Any one of you out there with an anxiety disorder should be able to relate to this story.
Background: I have PTSD, which means I spend a good portion of my day anticipating death and destruction. This is occasionally hilarious.
Sr. Olives and I were home alone at our in-law’s house for a few hours, so we decided to play Mario Kart on the Wii.
At one point during the game, the dog ran into the guest bedroom. The dog has recently had surgery and has one of those giant cone collars around her neck, so she can’t see anything and has been wreaking havoc wherever she goes (more so than usual.)
Anyway, she runs into the bedroom and there’s a loud crash. My logical brain thinks, ‘‘The clumsy dog just knocked something over.’’ But my amydgala is screaming, ‘‘Eeeee! Someone just broke in! Doom! Doooooom!’’
My husband saw the panic on my face, rolled his eyes and said, ‘‘It’s the dog.’’ He then walked into the bedroom and shooed the dog back into the hall, grumbling about what a PIA she is.
‘‘Whew,’’ thinks my rational brain. ‘‘Crisis averted. He’s right. Just the dog. I got a little carried away there.’’
But as Sr. Olives came toward me, his ear caught the customary ‘‘Bing. Bing. Bing’’ that signalled the race about to start, with (gasp!) nobody to man the controls!
So he rushed forward toward his own controller, waved his hands toward me, and with gleeful urgency, yelped, ‘‘Go, go, go!’’
I dutifully dropped my controller, jumped to my feet and bolted toward the door. I paused just in time to hear him say, through peals of laughter, ‘‘No, don’t go out the door! Go play the game!’’
You see, my amygdala, with its shrill voice of terror, had managed to pierce my rational defenses and ignore every shred of evidence that my husband wasn’t panicking. Nevermind the casual way he’d moved away from the door, or the amused expression on his face as he came toward me-- his words could mean nothing other than, ‘‘THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE AND WE HAVE TO GET OUT NOW OR WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE!’’
I skittered to a stop, looked around in confusion, and as soon as the true meaning of his words hit me, I fell to the floor in hysterical laughter. Oh man, we laughed until there was no more sound to come out. I have to wonder how fascinating it is to live with me sometimes.
So, my fellow high-strung Dopers… what hilarious ways have you scared the shit out of yourself lately?