A day out with ‘A’

As I grow older and wiser (why is there laughing in my head…) I’ve started to realise that I avoid a lot more of the situations I use to just think ‘Just do it!’ (Not a Nike promo)

Going out is alot more like a Rocky Balboa montage of prep, blood, sweat and tears, and screaming at the top of my lungs from mountains, table tops or wardrobes.

Reminiscing over the days where I freely walked out the house without a care in the world. No ‘A’ giving me what if scenarios, no sweating, hyperventilating or stomach cramps. (I miss those days!)

Roald Dahl said it best:

Easier said than done right? I’m the biggest what iffer there is!

Worst case scenarios are my comfort zone, aslong as I know the worst possible outcome I’ll be prepared….right?

What usually happens is I stress and worry over the worst, most horrendous scenario, really taking my body through a disaster of emotions, then of course the horrendous scenario never happens but at least I was totally prepared….right?

I know what you’re thinking, I’m totally wrong, I’m causing myself such stress for nothing. I know this, ‘A’ knows this, even my sister’s dogs, cats, fish knows this, yet I still do it!

It’s like an addiction to me, I can not stop. It sucks alot of the time but there have been times it’s actually helped me because once I realise the world isn’t going to end I actually feel relief and start to enjoy myself.

If you have a hitchhiker like me you’ll understand that it picks certain concerns for you to worry over. (If you haven’t read any of my other posts my hitchhiker is called ‘A’, which stands for asshole…haha opps…i mean anxiety)

For me ‘A’ makes me fear throwing up, shitting my pants or fainting in public.

Have I ever experienced any of the above in public? No. (I’ve never shit my pants period, incase you were wondering)

It means I can’t take public transport because I freak out over the above mentionables, it means that wherever I go I have to scout out the toilets, (know where every single service station is in a 250 mile radius if driving), a soft patch of land or grass to fall on if I faint or a nice concealed bush with minimal critters. (Exhausting right?)

I don’t discuss this with anyone for fear I’ll end up alone with 17 dogs, 5 cats, a parrot and a pet pig, with a rep as the creepy lady in the corner house that everyone avoids like the plague.

For all my hitchhikers bad points it has ONE good quality (I am not drunk!!), with ‘A’ comes obsession, granted it’s unhealthy obsessions controlled by fears mostly but I also have other obsessions.

Fluffy animals

The fluffier the better! Alive or stuffed (as in teddy bears)

I particulary love dogs, yes I know many people do but I LOOOOOOVEEEEE dogs, I can not refrain from hugging any dog I come across, I greet dogs before I greet humans and the love I feel for every single one sometimes causes me to cry uncontrollably (whilst I’m in the midst of hugging a dog) because it’s just too damn cute and fluffy. This can then cause the dogs human to quickly become very uncomfortable and start tugging the cute dog away, there’s normally restraint on both sides and everyone leaves feeling abused. I give zero fucks about this. My reasoning is ‘A’ made me do it.

Do I have the potential to turn into Lenny from Of mice and men? MAYBE…

I get tagged daily in posts, videos, pics and events all involving fluffy animals and I love it. Society seems to be able to accept my weird obsession with fluffy bums so I roll with it. I show them ‘A’ in the form of fluffy overloads.

Overthinking

Don’t get me wrong now, there is a side to overthinking that if I could, I would lock up in a box, attach extremely heavy weights to it and throw it out to sea never to be seen again. Those nights of lying awake watching the time tick on as you over think about the way the neighbours squirrel never buries it’s nuts in your garden. Why? Did I offend it somehow? Does it think my mud isn’t good enough? Should I re-do the garden with new mud? Maybe every squirrel hates me, what if all the squirrels in the world are in cahoots to murder me in my sleep?…and so on.

That side of overthinking is complete torture.

The other side however I think is endearing. I care a lot, I put a lot more thought into my feelings and that makes me a very loving thoughtful person. Do I border on the side of stalker at times? Yes. Does everyone enjoy it? No. Am I too much for some people? Hell yes.

If you are lucky to be in my very small circle of trust you will be in safe hands, you will have someone watching out for you and someone who gets you the most amazing presents, presents you never thought you asked for but that I picked up on. You will be loved unconditionally and I will do absolutely anything for your happiness. I will always be there to listen and support you and I will remember every single detail good and bad.

Do I ever ask for the same in return? No.

Over the years I’ve tried to suppress my unwanted hitchhiker, I’ve tried to body slam depression and blindfold grief but what I always fail to see is that my hitchhiker makes me unique in many ways and it makes me warrior. I am trying to accept it because the more I ignore it the louder and louder it screams at me.

Lately ‘A’ and it’s sidekick depression have been kicking my ass and I don’t like it. I want to be able to sit down without a pain in my ass, I want to be able accept me for who I am which includes an unwanted hitchhiker.

If the world can accept my obsession with fluffy bums surely the world can accept ‘A’ to? Right?

I’m going to try and obsess over the things I love about myself, not the things I hate. Have you ever tried that?

Wish me luck…..

Author: incompanyofa

I'm just a girl trying to survive a war with her hitch hiker.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s