The Amoeba Whisperer: "It's All Dog Training!"

[GoatGal]

And here's my brain, making mountains out of molehills again:

All GUBU REALLY said was:

"Please expect to talk in person tomorrow. ---GUBU"


All that says is he wants to see me in person.
Weird that he signed his name, he never does that except when he's being really weird and trying to make a difficult point.

I haven't seen him since Wednesday.
He knows something is "wrong" with me since I'm not out slaving away as usual.
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But my reaction to this: You'd think the Apocalypse was upon us, for Pete's sake.
(Who is Pete, anyway?)

I can see how I overreact to things.
Just a few words from him, I twist them around, and make myself nuts.

There is so much fear underlying things, I can see that now.

I get a handle on it and do well for awhile, but then it just starts again.

A tragic case of the "What Ifs".

I am my own worst enemy as far as my anxiety is concerned.

Funny how I was never a particularly anxious person prior to this.
Never needing reassurance or feeling threatened.

I don't like being like this one bit. A big wuss. Scared of a little convo!


It's hard to wrap my head around how this all affects me... never thought it could happen.

----------------Anyhow----------UPDATE---------------


I IGNORED his text comment about talking tomorrow.

Instead I asked about practical things, what needed to be done for the animals (he bugged out of here really quick without finishing anything, so...) and whether or not there were keys for the new basement door lock.

He answered quickly-- yes, there were keys, yes he had one.

I said: "OK. Great that you were able to fix that. Thanks. It helps with feeling safer here alone."

H:--no answer for a long time---then "OK".
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I figure to take Wonka's advice and sit on it for tonight.
See if anything else comes to light.

"Don't go off half-cocked", as they say.

See if he says or does anything else to give me an indication of his intent.

Send the email if I feel it's necessary.

Or just see him when he gets here tomorrow and test the waters, say what I have to say, then take a hike if he starts on some icky stuff!

He might just want to know that I'm not ill--he saw a letter from my OB-GYN, and I had a cancer scare last year at this time.
(Sadly, not that he cared at ALL, before, during, since.)

Who knows what's in that little single cell blob that passes for his brain nowadays? Not much empathy or compassion, that's for sure.
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So I am going to have a pasta feed, watch a Zombie movie, and be glad there is no wine here, because I'd probably drink too much of it and feel like crap tomorrow.

I'm feeling more centered now.

Thanks, y'all.

---GGG