emergenpsych (v): To accidentally instigate mass hysteria
ex: Jane texts her boyfriend “OMG. Having a baby”. Realizes too late that part 2 of her message failed to send. Figures she’ll just tell her boyfriend on their next date that she meant to say “OMG. Having a baby aspirin. Pulled a Glute in Zumba class”. Wonders why boyfriend inexplicably moves out-of-state and changes his name.
A few summers ago I sat in the shade under a fan while Tom did yard work. He mowed and trimmed and clipped and dug and I determined that this domestic life is the life for me. Despite all this hard labor, I thought between pages of a yummy new book, it’s all so worth it. I courtesy called to the man in the dirt to see if he’d like some water or a break. When I heard no answer I walked to his place among the shrubs to ask again. And there he was. Dying.
I found Tom leaning crumbled over one knee. I asked what was wrong. He didn’t answer. His face twisted upwards to show a look of total pain. I stood there making nervous faces, asking over and over for him to just let me know this was a joke and maybe we could all laugh about it one day… many days from now when I’m not so pissed and devastated. Still no answer. Only the occasional groan. In leu of logic panic set in. Tom. Tom. Oh Gard. Oh Gard. Mother Gard. Tom. Tom. Tom. Oh Gard. My mind frantically danced in a hundred directions: Heart attack! Internal Combustion? Are the dosages on the Baby Aspirin bottle for actual babies? How can I carry him on my back to the hospital? Oh, I have a car. My name’s not on the car… or the lease. I’ll be a homeless single mother. I’m ill-equipped to do life alone! Oh Sweet Jesus, if you die, Tom, I will kill you.
When I’d come around to the 43rd stage of grief he muttered that he had a kink in his back. There was relief somewhere deep inside of me, but right there on the surface was mostly fury. I was outraged that he would emergenpsych me, make me worry for all those terrible minutes, not take a moment- between my fretting aloud about how to sign up for welfare assistance and crying over loss of life and life partner- to, I don’t know, maybe clarify that no death was occurring. I was incredibly glad that he was there, sour back but mostly healthy, but not before I was peeved that he couldn’t throw a sister a thumbs up or a small, handwritten note to explain the false alarm.
The only point of this story is to say I left you guys hanging, and I ought to know better.
I wrote a post about the inner workings of a recent funk. It was a long list of reasons I’d been frowning, explanations of why the world could suck the proverbial “it”, and extensive sorrows regarding my socks, all with holes in the heels. It was, by most readers’ accounts, whiny and out of character. Girlfriend depresses like she means it!
Then I mysteriously disappeared.
Weeks pass and nary an update or happy meme graced my page. Just this sad, sad post and silence. Observers might consider this the cyber equivalent of my giving away a beloved boombox. Many of you wrote me encouraging e-mails and included uplifting quotes, and it took the third mention of Kelly Clarkson lyrics before it occurred to me that my absence from the blog coupled with the ominous Last Will & Blog Post maybe gave you all the wrong impression. What doesn’t kill me does make me stronger, Madame Clarkson, but that’s hardly the point. I fear I emergenpysched you.
In truth my back is completely kink-less. I haven’t been sad. I’ve been lazy, loves. These weeks some of you’ve been fretting I’ve been napping a lot. Also there was some snacking. Add the occasional book read and mile jogged (OKAY. Walked). I forgot all about said funk.
Consider this a bill of good blog health, an apology for the emergenpsych of omnition. Thank you for the messages (sorry I responded with questions marks) and more thanks to you for the plethora of Kelly Clarkson wisdoms. She’s a regular old Pop Gandhi, that one. Now back to our regularly scheduled discussions of important stuff, happy stuff like “Guess Kim & Kanye’s Baby’s Birth Weight In Ounces of Swagger” and also some investigatory blogging like “Working Conspiracy Theory: Supermodels Have Found Fountain of Healthy Chocolate. Hide It From The Rest Of Us”.
And to the rest of you just now realizing I was gone, what’s wrong with you? I could’ve been kidnapped. Just kidding. I’m far too tall to fit in a trunk.
What have you been up to while I was sleeping?