Worrying

The art of worrying is a pretty crazy thing, and let me tell you, I have mastered it. My whole life I have spent worrying about one thing or another, and when I get over one thing, of course something else pops up. I have never been diagnosed as a hypochondriac, but I might as well be. If you knew everything I worried about, everything I have irrationally told myself I had, you would think I'm nuts. My worrying is so entirely irrational but I can't do anything to stop it. It truly doesn't matter how many rational people I talk to, my mind is always at the extremes. Today is no exception...

I am all alone this weekend...and while many people love that, I do not. One thing about living on a farm is that you don't have next door neighbors, you have neighbors that are 1/4 mile away. Well, when I lived in Madison, there were plenty of times where I would stay in my apartment alone, and it never bothered me. There were people everywhere. But here, it is just weird to me - a big house in the middle of a bunch of farm land. So, typically if Luke is going to be gone, I head over to my parent's house for the weekend, or drop by Luke's parents for the night. Unfortunately, this weekend, Luke is gone, and so are all my parents - mine on the way to Seattle, Luke's are camping up north. So, I'm left here. And, I don't think I'm doing a very good job keeping myself busy, because worrying is something I've been doing a lot of in the past 24 hours.

You see, it seems like when I am about to be tested (ie, staying alone), that a bunch of other stuff also has to go wrong so that I can really test my sanity. Last night, I had some family friends over to play games, and the daughters were staying with me to keep my company. When they pulled in, they were in a convertible! I wanted to check it out, and I was holding Banjo, the kitten, while looking at it. They were showing me how the hard-top convertible worked, and when he was putting the top up, Banjo freaked out and bit my middle finger, drawing blood. While most people would think "ouch," I thought "rabies."

Now, I do a pretty good job of covering up my worrying in the beginning. I rinsed out the wound with water, washed good with soap and water, then stuck my finger in some hydrogen peroxide until it stopped burning. Seemed good enough, and then I enjoyed a few games with the family friends. But yet, every second that I had a spare thought, it was about rabies. Banjo doesn't have a rabies vaccine yet, and that freaks me out.

So, I decided to text our vet, and hear her thoughts. She said it was "probably" nothing to worry about, and that I should just keep it clean and take some ibuprofen. While it was momentarily comforting, I still couldn't sleep most of the night. I decided I would call my friends at the Wildlife Sanctuary. But first, it was off to the Farmer's market, which I thoroughly enjoyed going to and not working at! As I walked through the market, I ran into the senior animal keeper at the Wildlife Sanctuary, so conveniently! After catching up, I asked for her opinion on the cat bite. She said that she has been bitten by many barn cats, and none of them were ever vaccinated. She also said that I shouldn't worry, but instead, watch the cat, and if I notice odd behavior, then go to the doctor. I learned that cats can't be carriers of rabies like a skunk can; instead, cats will die within 10 days of contracting rabies. So, if my cat was still okay in the next 5-10 days, then so am I. She said that since I play with the kittens every day, I would have noticed a bite or a bump on it, and that odds are more than great to say I'm fine. That made me feel better, when I had company with me. But, left alone to think, my mind wanders. I keep checking Banjo to see if his behavior is "normal," and am being totally obsessive.

It doesn't help that I don't have company to keep me occupied. The thing is, I know that I am being super irrational, but I can't stop it. I have talked to my mom, dad, brother, sister, husband, vet, senior animal keeper, and my family friends - all of them said it is nothing to worry about. But, yet, here I am. It is hard to stop, I'm hoping that writing about it will make me realize how ridiculous it is. But that's the thing about worrying, while it isn't rational, it is hard to stop. I know this from a lot of experience. A pretty crazy place to be trapped in is my mind, and right now, that is where I'm at. I know that if I want to live the farm life, then I have to get used to things like this and just move on - I guess I still have some work to do to get used to the farming life.