I was talking to my mom today and she said, "Ever since X brought that gun to your house you live in the one percent." I had to think about it for a minute, but she's right. I go through life now expecting the rare, the unforeseen, the weird accidental mishap.
A situation recently came up where a friend was trying to work out what do with their kiddo(s) while they went out on a late date. The original idea was to leave the teen home alone. Most likely everything would be just fine. Realistically I understand this. However I started to worry. Then my mind went to all the "what ifs" that could happen. And being me, I had to say something. I just couldn't let it go.
What if there was a fire, not even at their place... but next door?
What if she had to be evacuated for a gas leak, or some other area disaster?
What if the dog got out and the kiddo had to try and chase her down when it was dark and a busy body neighbor saw, and then called the police to complain?
What if there was a prowler or someone decided to mess with the vehicle left there?
What if, after the fact the kid was sort of bragging to friends about getting to be home alone and a concerned parent decides to pass judgement and make trouble? Or if the child says something in ear shot of a teacher who does the same?
Two years ago I lived in the 99%... I always thought these things happen to other people. I never had encountered any kind of significant violence at the hands of someone I trusted. I hadn't ever really been surprised by someones choices and behavior. Then my estranged husband brought a gun to my house. He did something I would have never expected.
My mother, Ethel, and my sister in law were all telling me to get a restraining order. I heard, "most likely nothing will ever happen, but you need to be safe and cautious. You need to take care of yourself." I didn't listen.
The 1% chance that my X would lose it came to pass. And now, as a result, I find myself living in that one percent. I find myself going to worse case scenario. If I have a quarter of a tank of gas and I run into traffic I start to feel all panicked and convince myself that I'll run out of gas out of cell phone range.
If the dog throws up I start thinking it's going into liver failure. If I smell smoke I think fire... never burned popcorn....I understand why, I just don't know how to deal with it. I'm not proud of it. It's certainly not something I enjoy.
I see a self help book in my future...