I wish I knew why, or what, or where, or why not. I don’t do well with uncertainty.
It doesn’t matter what part of my life the uncertainty is centered in, it infiltrates everything.
Uncertain about how you did on a test? Everything is terrible because you don’t know how you did until the results come in and until then you just have to assume you did terribly. Uncertain about how that first date went? Just assume they hate you and spin into a pile of tears because obviously you’re unlovable and you’re doomed to be alone forever and you’ll choke on a hotdog alone in your sad tiny studio apartment and no one will find you for years. Waiting for a call from the doctors? Sit by the phone listening to the clock ticking constantly to assure you that time is passing and the wait has to be over eventually, right?
I don’t know when it started. I have vivid childhood memories of being labeled as impatient, as fidgety, etc. But was I really impatient? Or was it anxiety about the uncertain? Fidgeting because of everything running through my head that I just had to have the answer too.
I can’t recall not craving the cold hard truth of certainty. Yes, the bell rang and school is over for the day. Yes, two plus two equals four. No, you cannot be sucked down the drain in the bathtub.
Why do I need such solid reassurance? Why do I just need to know? Even if the answer isn’t one I like, just knowing calms me down. Why? The scariest part is that’s the biggest uncertainty for me; not knowing why uncertainty scares me so goddamn much.