As a teenager, I made most of my money babysitting. At least I did until I started refusing after dark
jobs, limiting myself to daylight offers. Why? My thoughts got the best of me. After I put the children to bed, every noise became a potential burglar; every passing car carried the possibility of a harmful intruder. My imagination of horrible-things-that-could-happen took over.
As a young pregnant wife, I revisited that channel of imagination, thinking myself into despair. Work took my husband away during the week. By Friday, I was overwhelmed with worry about him flying home, visualizing what could happen. By Sunday, just in time for him to leave again, I’d be in a tearful state of invented dangers and irrational fears.
Negative images of what I didn’t want to happen took control of my life, filling (continue reading →)
