Usually not the big things. I am strangely adept at just ignoring or fabricating an elaborate explanation as to why that guy never called or why something I really, really want to work out really, really isn't. Once (actually in the pages of this blog a few years ago), I managed to convince myself that just because my boyfriend was sleeping on the couch, avoiding me, and ignoring my phone calls didn't mean something was wrong with our relationship clearly it was far more obvious that he "liked" the couch, was really busy that week even if it was exactly the same as all other weeks, and well, his phone clearly was spontaneously getting bad reception, etc. Big things no problem. I studied at the Donna Kinion school of if I don't want it to exist it just won't. She has denied the existence of my tatoo after seeing and touching it (eventually we got her over that, she might even like it now).
Small things can make me just crazy. These small things I usually make up. Like on random event will balloon in size in my mind until it is the hugest most enormous harbinger of impending doom. Clearly most of the world's woes are caused by my forgetting to brush my teeth in the morning or misfiling a file or because I said something flippant that may have been much more hurtful than funny. Today, I have been slowly torturing myself. Well not all day, just this afternoon. Later there will be snuggling with the boy. That will make things better.
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