Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The scariest stories...

...are the true ones.

Or at least the ones with a kernel of truth in them. The ones you can identify with.

So I've said over and over if I know you, you will eventually end up in my blog. Either a true story blog or a fiction one. I've talked about that moment in a conversation with someone where you just know what they said is going in a story and you are trying to decide if it would be rude to open your phone and make a note of it right then or if you should excuse yourself to the restroom so you can do it there.

Today it was my turn. (Mid-week fiction)

Okay, yeah, technically I'm always in my blog. They are my stories after all, but the fiction piece today was me.

Sunday we went to the movies and I really did have what I would call a mild panic attack. I just had that awful feeling that something bad was about to happen. I felt like someone was watching me. From the right side. Just that skin crawling feeling of "this is not good" that happens sometimes. And there was a late rush of people who came in to the theater as the previews started and it did make my palms sweat and my heart race. It was not great. But it wasn't a full blown "Oh my god I have to get out of here" panic attack. It was just a really unsettled feeling. I have no idea what caused it. It wasn't as bad as the woman in the story, but it wasn't great. And part way through it I thought...this is going to be a story.

That's normal right?

Maybe not.

But that's what happened. Even as I was still in the middle of the unease I started to wonder how the story would unfold. Would it be true? Would there have been a reason for the panic or would it be a false alarm? Or would there be a twin someplace else having something happen to them? Because an evil twin story is always good...

So then I took that attack and I wove in pieces of my life. Made it a full on story. No, I'm not losing my mind, but I do tend to forget things. There have been more times than not where as I'm telling Brent about my day I have to say, "I did something else too, but I can't remember" and I do tend to tell him I did nothing with my day, though that really is shorthand for nothing different than normal. But that's not new. I've always been like that. I forget everything that I did during a day because some things just don't stick. They either happened too fast, or I was distracted while I did them, or I just moved on to other things and forgot. Teflon brain. But it's normal for me. Like not sleeping is normal.

But as I thought about the panic attack and the story I wanted to write, I thought, what if that wasn't normal for you? What would you think if it just started happening? Who would you tell? Would you tell? Or would you just pretend like it never happened?

And then this morning I was watching an HBO documentary on domestic abuse and it was just heartbreaking. I was moved to tears. And as I cried part of my brain fired on the story again. What if you started crying and had no reason? What would that do? Would you think there was something wrong?

And I am sick again. I am pretty sure I've spent the entire month of October fighting off a cold, having a cold, getting over a cold, rinse and repeat. And I am just tired of it. I've got a fever today and and feeling sorry for myself. Whiny sick is what we call it in my house. So then I thought, what if that worked in to it as well?

And boom...story.

Nobody is safe. Everyone ends up in the blog. Even me.

Not a big deal. Not really.

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