Weird may be hereditary

I know what it's like to have too many thoughts at the same time. Something my mother said made me realize I'm well on my way to becoming that which most adults fear — like their parent(s).  The old existential horror — "Oh no, I'm becoming my mother/father!"

 

My puppy has a vaccination scheduled. My mother's car is about to return from where it's being serviced. And a family friend called my mother and sought to meet up. The mater is now all jittery and anxious. She's worried about the mode of payment for the car servicing, the vet's unpredictable timings, and why the friend wants to meet. These are not things one needs to worry over. These are things my mother worries over. 

 

And I always dispense advice on how fretting over something where one doesn't have a hand regarding the outcome is useless. But I, too, worry about inconsequential things like this. If There's something to be done, I'll have a cannonball of anxiety in my stomach till the thing is done. I will have difficulty eating, or doing anything else. My mind is going to be a madhouse. Not only worrying about the outcome, but also about the process of getting the things done. 

 

Even normal day-to-day things, like going out to meet people, makes me think a lot. Friends set up a time to meet. And a venue. Then I will begin my process. I will fret over the route I have to take to get to the spot. Then I will calculate how much time it will take, followed by when I have to wake up to leave home at what time. Then what to wear. And how to get back home, or go on to work. Things with which people usually go with the flow. I don't. I actively fight the flow. Why? Damned if I know. I'd change it if I could. It'd make my life so much easier. Instead, I'm a neurotic mess. If I made enough money to get a therapist, the doc would become a billionaire.

 

Reading makes me calm. I think. When I'm immersed in a book, I switch off. I can't entertain conversation. Which makes my mom mad. She keeps asking why I don't want to talk. Who's going to explain to her that I'm all out of talk power? That I'm recharging? That I can't engage in conversation when I don't have the ability to process things at that point in time?

 

She's known me for my ever, but I think she's too close to look at the big picture. Or maybe she does understand, and it is me that lacks the ability to understand that she understands. Maybe she processes things this way? I don't know. Everything gives me a headache these days. 

 

The core difference between us, I think, is like she put it. My mother, who thinks she's lazy (I laughed out loud at that), says she needs to get things done as soon as possible because she knows if she takes a break, she'll lose interest and not do the things that need doing. In my case, however, I simply don't do the things that need doing because I don't usually have the inclination to do so.

 

I despise routine. But I am more-or-less destined to keep one. Keeps me sane, somewhat.