On being irrational.

There’s many reasons I don’t go out much alone or on my own with the kids.  I have naff all direction sense, seriously, and panic about getting lost.  I panic about something bad  happening to one of the kids or to me. Everything is a twisted, tangled, gnarly knot of panic, anxiety and what ifs.

Like what if my (crappy) ankles give way on me.  Again.

Sometimes he understands or tries to.  It’s hard because it is  ridiculous.  I know this. It’s all so bloody stupid.

Othertimes it’s open season on my crapness as he points out how stupid it all is.  It exasperates him.  It exasperates me too so I get it. I really do.

He’ll tell me how unlikely it is that things will go wrong.  How irrational it all is.

Like my (weak) ankles going.

And then we go out.  All of us together.  And one of my ankles gives way.  In the woods.  Over a mile from home. 

Maybe my fears aren’t so irrational after all.

It’d be funny if it wasn’t so painful.

Sometimes it sucks to be right.



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