How to Be Ready for Any Potential Disaster, Like, Ever

Last night, as I lay in bed trying to sleep, I imagined my house burning to the ground.

In our carport, there are 2 bags of dry leaves awaiting transport to wherever it is one disposes of dry leaves. In my mind’s eye, it’s a field that reaches as far as the eye can see with small children frolicking in thousands of leaf piles, but I’m pretty certain that’s not right.

I wouldn’t know, for sure, because my husband does that kind of stuff since I’m too scared to back my car up to an offloading dock, which my husband assures me there is at this mysterious facility.

James was having a smoke, and I was having a vape (it doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?) last night before bed when I saw him flick off the cherry of his cigarette and then throw the butt into the dry leaves bag.

“GAH! What are you doing?” I screamed.

“It was out, don’t worry,” he stated casually. Much too casually if you ask me.

“I’m pretty sure I still saw an ember burning on that!”

Again, with the screaming.

“Lindsay. It was out. I’m not that dumb to throw a burning cigarette into a paper bag of dry leaves.”

You see, this is what my therapist might call catastrophizing. I note something worrisome, and instead of talking it out or using the logical brain to identify how one might rectify these angsty feelings, I instead internalize the whole kit and caboodle and play out every single horrifying scenario which may happen due to this one thing that is bothering me.

A healthy way to have resolved the issue:

Me to my husband: Hun, I trust that you are putting your cigarette out before throwing the butt in there but regardless, it will always make me nervous. How about I put an old coffee can out here, and then you can use that?

Husband: Sure, sounds good.

The End.

What actually happened in my beautiful brain stem:

Me lying in bed at midnight: Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen. The cigarette butt has been smoldering in that leaf bag for two hours now. Any second, it will burst into a hellfire storm of flames. My car is parked in the car park right now, so obviously, the heat and flame from the fire will make the gas tank explode. Jamie is in the living room, so he’ll be a fucking goner. The kids will be trapped in the basement, so I’ll have no way to get to them.

Except! I can climb down from my bedroom window. It’s a steep drop, about 10 feet, but I’ll be able to do it because I’ll have that crazy-ass mom adrenaline on my side. Then I’ll use one of the patio chairs to bust through Sophie’s window where I can superman into her room, grab her and Lars from their rooms and then crawl back out.

That’s when I realized that Lucy the dog would still be trapped in the house, but really, she probably would have become burnt toast with Jamie from the car explosion, so there’d be no point in trying to go back into the house for her.

What a tragedy to happen so close to Christmas.

And that’s about the time tears began streaming down my face as I lay in bed mourning the imagined death of my husband and dog.

Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

Every muscle in my body is as taut as my sphincter when I know I need to loudly fart but am trapped in a full queue at the bank.

It is a difficult life to lead — being ready to pounce at any potential danger. That’s why I need to teach you, dear readers, to do the same thing because maybe if we were all this hyper-vigilant, I wouldn’t have to take the world’s responsibilities on myself and could get some Goddamn sleep at night.

So, here’s what you’re going to have to do:

1. Ignore nothing! If you see something, say something. But say it silently to yourself — in the safety of your own brain. There you can decipher if the thing you’ve seen is really worth worrying endlessly over. SPOILER: It is. It ALWAYS is.
2. If during mid-horror-fantasy, you notice you may be on the verge of a heart attack due to an overwhelming amount of anxiety hammering down upon your chest, I find it helpful to take a breather. Deep breath in and out. Imagine yourself winning some sort of literary humour prize to give your brain the tiny hit of dopamine it needs. Then get back to the catastrophic event once your heart nugget has started beating somewhat regularly.
3. Bring as many of your loved ones into the horrific situation as possible because that’s just part of the ride, man.
4. Silently sob while tears run down your face imagining all the genuinely terrifying things your monster of a brain can conjure happening to those you love most. As my mom would say, “The dramatics with this one, I tell ya!”
5. Finally, at 1 AM, mumble, “Okay, I’ve gotta just check something,” to precisely no one, and walk outside your front door to ensure your carport isn’t ablaze.

Bonus Tip:

Don’t let people throw cigarette butts into leaf bags because even if you’re not worried about it burning your house down, I’m pretty sure cigarette butts and leaves don’t go in the same resting place at your local dump.

Or wherever that place is where people bring those sorts of things.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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