I admit it. I'm trying to control the weather with my mind. Not that I'm the first person to do this; but based on the fact that I can in no way, shape, or form do this with anything even bordering on success, I know that, logically, I should just try to stop worrying an get on with my life. Granted, I'm getting on with my life and trying to do things are need to be done; but at the back of my mind is that stupid screaming voice that wants every ounce of my attention, commanding me to worry.
Unfortunately, by trying so hard to ignore it that I start talking about it is also a strange form of giving it power. Bizarre, perhaps, buy still true.
So I'm trying to look out the windows, soaking in the sunny skies and denying the thought that somewhere out there, something potentially scary is headed this way, I'm trying to take the perfect blueness of the morning and the fluffy white clouds as a sign that we're going to coast on through this Coastal threat. I'm trying to be optimistic and not worry that this is literally just the calm before the storm, that this will amount to nothing beyond a short-lived bust of panic among the locals.
This is the part of the year I hate––those six months of tenuous Tropics, when I avoid weather reports like the plague and wish like crazy that I could bury my head in the sand until December officially shows itself.
Alas, I cannot, so I have to face reality and try not to give in to my inner worry wart and just breathe. I stay aware, but try not to brood. After all, I can't control the weather––but I can do damage control on my internal tropics. God is the weatherman––the key is to remember that.
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