The Overthinker

It’s 7:30. I tap my foot on the linoleum floor of my kitchen incessantly, unknowingly. I keep telling myself to go find a task; go finish up the dishes or grab that load of laundry out of the dryer and oh, there’s also that blog post I’ve been wanting to put the finishing touches on. But my eyes are magnetically drawn to the black cat above the kitchen table, her head poking out of the top with an old fashioned clock for a belly. Her tail is swishing beneath too and fro in line with the seconds that continue to tick, tick, tick by. 

The warm smell of dinner fills the space. He should have been home 30 minutes ago. The shop is only 5 minutes down the road. There were exactly 4 stop lights between there and here that could have delayed his arrival, but 30 minutes? Something isn’t right. 

I pick up my phone, and look at the message I sent to him earlier. 

“Where are you?!” 

I keep stealing glances at the clock, her cheerful cat eyes gleaming back at me, as I ponder whether that text properly displayed my sense of urgency. He knows how I work myself up, he knows that my mind likes to spin its own little stories in the empty spaces. So surely he would not intentionally leave me here falling down the rabbit hole like an anxious Alice. The little gray text below says ‘Delivered’, so why hasn’t he replied? Something is most definitely wrong. 

What if he’s working late? 

What if he needed some time to himself? 

Why would he need that? 

Is he angry? 

Did I do something to make him angry? 

ALEX, breathe. My inner voice lets out a shaky breath. 

“Please answer me, I’m worried! WHERE ARE YOU?” I feverishly type the words out as my heart races with anxiety. I look at the clock again, her Cheshire grin that sits just above the clock face mocks me, it’s only been two minutes. Phone still in hand, I decide to open Facebook to try and pass the time. Mindlessly scroll until something big enough grabs my attention to distract me from these intrusive thoughts invading my head. 

At the top of my newsfeed I see Barbara, she’s engaged again. Barf, is this husband number 3? And only 5 months after her last divorce. My plan is working, I’m already thinking about Barbara and how this new short and stout man looks an awful lot like husbands number 1 and 2. You could say she definitely has a type. 

Scroll, scroll. Aw, that’s a cute picture of a puppy. Scroll, scroll. Ugh, there’s Debbie with another political opinion. Scroll, scroll. Oh, locals news! This says there was a pretty serious accident in my area. When was this posted? My fingers are trembling slightly. 45 minutes ago. 

Oh no, 

OH MY GOD,

This is a disaster!!

I’m frantically scrolling through the comments. Please, someone, damnit, GIVE ME A NAME. Who was in this accident?! We live in a tiny town of less than 5,000 for God’s sake. 

Lots of sad face emojis. Lots of people tagging other people they knew and saying things like ‘omg, can you believe this?’ But no name. I let out a frustrated scream that perks the interest of my teenage daughter in her bedroom down the hall. She pops her red head out from the door frame. 

“Everything okay, mom?”

“Yeah sweetie, everything’s just fine! Sorry to disturb you”

“I heard a scream”

“Oh… I just stubbed my toe. But it’s okay! Really, don’t worry.”

I’m calm, cool, collected, at least I’m pretending to be, but the upturned nostril and the quirk of my daughter’s eyebrow tells me I’m not doing a very good job. 

She shrugs her shoulders, breathes out a ‘whatever’, and disappears behind her bedroom door with a slight bang. 

I look down at the glass of dark, red wine that has been sitting on the kitchen counter collecting dust, patiently waiting for me to exit my head and step back into reality. I briskly pick it up and throw back a sip.

Sure this collision happened two stop lights down from his work, in the opposite direction from our home. But this was just too damn close for comfort!! No way am I overreacting. 

What if he went to Jerry’s house? 

What if he was going to surprise me with Taco Bell? 

What if he went to the bar downtown?

Not only has my husband NEVER frequented the dive bar full of bikers and cigarette smoke after work in his 10 years with the same business, but none of these questions justify why he hasn’t texted me. SO MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS! I begin to pick and bite at my nails without realizing. 

Before I consciously register what I’m doing, the phone is back in my hand. I’ve got the article for the accident open and my eyes are 3 inches away from the screen, examining the dark and grainy photo at the top of the page. Could I make out the vehicles? Was that one green? It was a little small to resemble his 2012 Toyota 4Runner, but what if the accident had been that severe, that it had reduced the size of the car? 

OH MY GOD. 

If that happened, there would most certainly be no survivors, it’s a fact. My phone clatters to the ground as my hands begin to shake, spilling red wine all over my sleeve out of the glass I forgot I was gripping. I abruptly put the wine glass on the counter, spilling a little more on the light brown surface around it. My fingers are sore when I finally release the stem. 

Tears are running down my face. When did I start crying? What if he’s dead? The tears start pouring and a sob gets trapped in my throat.

“ALEX, stop telling yourself stories that are not happening” I whisper to myself, just like Shelly, my therapist, taught me when I find myself in episodes like this. 

The stories can feel overwhelming, once I get sucked in. My mind puts together a whole narrative, like a puzzle, and by the end I’m left feeling that there is no way possible that this narrative could not be true, it makes so much sense! Shelly said this is because I have past experiences that ring true to the feelings I’m experiencing and they dictate the way I view my present. My husband is home late from work by 30 minutes (actually, 35 minutes now) and I am tumbling through emotions like i’m being abandoned all over again. 

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and my inner voice speaks:

“You are not there anymore. 

You are not being abandoned. 

No one will abuse you anymore.

You can handle whatever is coming.”

I’m taking deep breaths, in and out, more smoothly now. I feel the calm slowly beginning to spread through my chest. The black and white image from the newspaper pops into my mind. I feel a prick of anxiety at the back of my neck. I quickly force my attention back to my breath. 

In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out.

My shoulders begin to relax, I can feel the tension subsiding. Keep going. 

In 

And

Out

In 

And 

Out

The door opens. I half jump out of my skin as I see his fiery red curls clear the doorway. My heart leaps. 

“Hi honey.”

“HI!” I throw my arms around his neck a little tighter than comfortable. “Where were you?!? You’re late and I tried texting but you didn’t answer and I was so worried!” 

I feel him take a deep breath as my head rests against his broad chest. 

“I’m sorry, there was a huge accident down the street from the store and it caused a huge backup. I felt like I was sitting in traffic forever and my phone was dead, I left my cord back at the office. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

He kisses the top of my head, and moves to place his briefcase he was clutching on top of the counter. 

“Dinner smells great! What’s cooking?”

I’m still riding the waves of leftover anxiety born out of situations that only existed in my mind. “Shepherds Pie! You’re favorite. We can eat whenever you’re ready.”

He smiles and moves past me to make his way to the bedroom to change out of his clothes. I take another deep breath and the exhale feels like the real first sign of relief. I let out a small chuckle as I take another sip from the glass of wine sitting on the counter. 

“Well, that was dramatic.”