True Confessions of an Overthinker

The text message I received triggered my outburst of  angry words and frustrated ramblings, then defeated sobs. All this because a friend simply asked "How's your mom doing?" No, I am not a drama queen by nature nor do I indulge in tantrums on a regular basis. Being the overthinker, and part-time junior psychologist that I am, I think I understand what happened now. This was about an unknown storm that had been brewing inside of me that apparently needed to escape. I do tend to hold things in and I've known for years that I am a delayed reaction person. Right or wrong, it's just how I deal with my stuff. My life has been in transition for a few months. I'd been caregiver to my mother-in-law for several years, but she recently moved into a nursing home. It was something we hoped would never happen, but her medical problems made it necessary.  It was very difficult and sad. I am very close to my Mom-in-law. For thirty years, she has called me the daugh...

I have another life lesson story to share with you.   This one is on the lighter side. Perhaps I'll reveal my darker secrets in that lurid expose' I plan to write someday... This true story happened when I was about eight. I was staying at my Grandma's house, as I often did.     I had taken one of her old-fashioned metal ice trays from the freezer. I loved popping ice out of it, even though my little hands could barely pull the lever back.  I am not sure what I was doing or what I said, but I do remember my grandmother's warning "Now be careful! Don't ever put your tongue or lips on that, because you will stick to it!!" How did she know that I really wanted to lick that white frost off the side of the tray? Was she a mind reader? You can predict what happened. I just had to find out for myself! Of course I waited until Grandma was on the other side of the house. The next thing I knew, my tongue was stuck and I was stifling panick...

I was walking into the grocery story the other day, and happened to get right behind the cart-pusher guy doing his job. He had just wrangled a chain of carts from their metal cage. You know, many carts linked together are very heavy! He was getting his OOOMPH going, for the needed momentum to push them the distance to the store entrance. Just as he puuussshhed them with all his might, his baggy saggy jeans fell down to his knees! It was hard for him to stop the rolling carts with his pants restricting his movement. But stopped them he did, and then turned around to see if anyone was watching as he pulled his jeans up. I was standing right behind him.  He turned red and laughed sheepishly, "Oh, sorry." I said "Well, It's okay. I have a son who is a few years older than you. He went through the baggy jeans phase, but I don't think his ever actually fell off. Oh, and nice boxers." He just laughed again. I did too. I added "You might remember...

It's that time of year again...graduation!     When you read my title, I'll bet you thought I was talking about us older folks being naughty. I am over fifty now so I am considered a senior citizen in some places. No. I'm talking about high school Seniors, and I have a memory to share. One morning in May of 1981 (my graduation year), the faculty and staff were having a meeting in the library before school started. The library was situated in the middle of the building, the halls and classrooms formed a big square around it.  It had double doors, the kind with big, open handles that pull open outwards. The entire front entrance was glass. A few seniors realized that ALL the faculty and staff were in the library. Someone found a long board and stuck it through the door handles, which made it impossible to open them from the inside. Totally gnarly!! We had imprisoned our teachers! There was that unforgettable moment when our authorities realized that th...

Let me tell you about how my friend Blob made me feel better recently. So did Blib! There were other caring angel-friends too. This story is a closure to my last post. It's my final one for now about my eye surgeries and ongoing recovery. Please hang in there with me, because this is about so much more than medical problems. I posted this on Facebook during the first week of April: "Well Friends, I had another "first" yesterday since my eye surgeries. I was paying for my groceries at Walmart. The check-out young lady said "I don't mean to offend you but what is that thing in your eye?"  I explained that it's scar tissue from a recent eye surgery. Yes, my bleb shows. It will probably always show. I'm not too thrilled about that, but at least it has a funny name. Bleb. Things could be so much worse though. " Here are a couple of responses that made me laugh initially, then inspired deeper thoughts... Friend One : " I just had...

I had an experience in the check-out line at Walmart last week. It brought up conflicting emotions. I should have been able to laugh it off. Well I did laugh a little, but I cried too. I sensed that I was being watched as I got my bank card out of my wallet and swiped it in the little machine. When I looked up, the young cashier said "I don't mean to offend you, but what is that thing in your eye?" I said "Oh, it's okay. That's scar tissue from a recent eye surgery." She asked if it would go away as the eye heals. Nope, it's not likely. The thing she saw in my eye is not really scar tissue. It was just easier to say that than to explain that the raised white patch on the upper part of my iris is a filter for eye fluid. It's called a bleb. Then I would've needed to explain that I have advanced glaucoma in that eye. I'd continue to tell her that I had a tiny valve implanted in that eye (left) on December 17th, because three p...

Hi Friends, This is a "note to my readers" post instead of my typical storytelling. In January of this year, I posted a three part story, which chronicled my vision problems, from early childhood to present. It was entitled "A Guinea Pig's Perspective". Like many writers, I often work through my difficult issues by writing them down. I had just had an eye surgery a month before I wrote that story.  I knew at the time that I had a second surgery scheduled for the next month. I realized a couple of weeks after I shared those posts that I'd missed the purpose of this blog. It was very good for me to write it because it helped me, but I decided it was better to keep for my eyes only. It was more like a personal journal entry. My medical situation is not something that applies to most of my readers or the general public.  And you busy people ain't got time for that! However, I've since discovered a magazine that wants to publish non-fictio...