Half

I dropped Husband off at the airport this morning. There were many tears (mine). It's been an emotional weekend, and saying goodbye felt like a lot to handle. I have a work event tonight, and then a busy work week, another phone interview, and a list of other plans, so it's not like I won't be busy between now and Thursday when he returns. It's just that I've gotten used to having him around, and I miss him. The apartment is so QUIET. I feel like something's lost, even though it's not lost, it's on Northwest Airlines headed to Minneapolis as I write this.

I'm terrified that something will happen to Husband, even though I know air travel is the safest kind. I can't help but worry about losing the people I love. It's not a recent development - I was like this as a kid. I remember one time when my mom went out, C was with a babysitter at our house, and I was at P's house (directly across the street) for a sleepover. Part way through the night I decided to call home to check on C, and there was no answer. I had P's mother (patient soul) bring me over to my house and it was dark. Suddenly, in my mind, I'd lost my sister and my mother in one night. Something horrible had happened to both of them, I was certain. If I couldn't see them, it had to be bad. I sat on P's porch crying and watching my house like a dog watches the coffee shop door - leash tied to fire hydrant - while its owner runs in for a quick latte. I doubt I blinked. Finally C and the babysitter drove up, returning from the ice cream parlor. They were fine. In fact C was better than fine - she was riding a sugar high. I'd wasted my entire night freaking out and was so distraught by that point that I was inconsolable.

Given that not much seems to have changed with regard to my separation anxiety issues since then, maybe I should schedule another visit with E. I'm realizing as I retell that story you're probably not supposed to have the same irrational fears as an adult that you had when you were eight.

Oh well, I'll settle for a quick fix for now: once Husband's plane is back on the ground I'll feel less tweaky. As for the larger neurosis underneath it, I'll deal with that another day. After all, my brain is still supposed to be on its post-exam vacation!!! And that vacation itinerary doesn't include a pit stop at the DSM-IV to look up the diagnostic criteria for "nutso."