So I was awake last night thinking. Actually, I was asleep and then I woke up; and since everyone else was sleeping, I just laid in bed with my eyes open, my ears alert, and my mind running a marathon. I thought I would let you wonderful blogger friends hitchhike a ride inside my tilt-o-whirl mind. These were just a few of the thoughts I had last night that I could remember today.
I’ve decided I’m not ok. Not even remotely. Too many things are not ok for me to be ok. Are our minds more fragile than they were a century ago or are we just more aware of our imperfections? Are we completely spoiled and therefore break more easily? What were people like when they went into battle before we had guns, airplanes, or bombs? Did PTSD exist when men had to kill other men with their bare hands to survive? Could I kill someone with my bare hands? I don’t think so because I can barely step on an ant without throwing up a prayer for little red devils.
I might be more likely to kill someone if they were about to hurt someone else, especially my daughter. What was I thinking getting pregnant and having a child? She is the best thing about my life but what if I am not raising her right. What if she can’t take care of herself, or handle money, or marries the wrong guy? What if I am doing something tragically wrong but I won’t know until it is too late to fix it? What if someone hurts her?
Some guy chased down a man that took his little girl into a wooded area and was about to rape her. I think he killed him. Good. I have PTSD hearing those stories. Just the thought of something happening to my own child makes my heart speed up and induces angry fear and I have no doubt homicide would be the result. I am definitely a momma bear and all reason or logic disappears when someone is in danger.
I have to check on my daughter, to make sure she is ok. She is beautiful and safe at the moment and that calms me. I want to always keep her safe. I wish I didn’t have to work because I would stay with her 24/7. But, she would grow up and I would forget how to live without her. I can’t think about that now. I was dreaming when I woke up…what was I dreaming? Hmmmm I was dreaming something bad but I don’t remember. I have to pee. “Where are you going”, hubby murmurs as I walk by his side of the bed. “Jeez hun it’s late” he mumbles as he snores before I can answer. I feel sick. Oh that reminds me of my dream…ugh it was awful.
I dreamed my daughter’s nanny called to tell me my daughter’s arm had been accidentally cut off. I woke up because I can’t handle dreams like that. What would I do if that really happened? Would I drive her or recommend someone else drive because an ambulance would take too long? What if the nanny didn’t know where the entrance to the emergency room was and had to search for it? I should lay here and figure it out in case it really happens. But I can’t because I am crying and getting myself worked up over something that isn’t likely to happen. Right? Right???
How did people deal before we had medicine, doctors, hospitals, or cures? Was dying and death different in those days? Did they live fuller lives because death was around every corner? Or is everything relative? I just can’t even imagine being the first person to cut open a dead body to try to figure out how we work. I think we are all different kinds of mentally ill nowadays. I think our minds have been tampered with. We are the victims of a large scale experiment with fake-sweeteners. I hate my addiction to sugar. Potatoes are evil…evil little roots out to destroy us all. I have the thighs to prove it. I need plastic surgery. I want to be Mrs. Potato head with interchangeable parts.
I wonder if my husband would like that. Here honey let me put on my small boobs to go out for sushi. Dang, I have been married so long I think he has forgotten I even have parts. Sigh…
The rest was a bit R rated so we shall end it here. And yes my mind is a sometimes a morbid place and I hate it.