The difference between someone who is actually screwed in the head and me is… Well, there is no difference. I’M A PSYCHO when it comes my family. I know how weird what I’m about to tell you sounds. I know I’m a basket case, but I’m telling you this in the hope that I’m not alone.
You see, we’re looking at houses to buy at the moment and we just came across one my husband and I both fell in love with, in the gorgeous Adelaide hills. It’s a stunner. It’s the perfect family home, it’s everything that I love; big rooms, floorboards, gorgeous views of Stirling, massive open plan kitchen, it’s the bomb.
Most people would think, “How exciting, let’s make an offer!” I, on the other hand, think, “Is this the house that I’ll be in when I find out my husband has been killed in a car crash on the way up the freeway?” Yep, you read that correctly. The fear of my family dying is stopping me from buying a house.
I am the most morbid-happy person you’ll ever meet.
My fears and worries stop me from doing things and enjoying “the moment”. People always tell me, “Just enjoy the moment, don’t stress,” but it’s easier said than done. Do you think I WANT to have these horrific thoughts about my family? No. I’d do anything for them to go away. I’ve tried talking to a phychologist and adjusting my thought patterns, but nothing seems to work.
The thing is, I’ve experienced what it feels like to lose a family member and I know I COULD NOT go through that again. Maybe if I didn’t know what that feeling was like, I wouldn’t worry so much, I’d be blissfully unaware.
Am I alone? Is anyone else a little bit bonkers?
Ps But, seriously, how stunning is Stirling?