Day 3538: I will never get over this

I will never get over how great it is being back at Disney World, where I saw this yesterday:

I said to my niece Laura that I didn’t expect to see “I will never get over this” — which I immediately associated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder — at the “Happiest Place on Earth.” However, I realized that it’s very possible to never get over wonderful experiences, too.

Apparently, I will never get over catastrophizing (imagining the worst case scenario), especially when I’m stressed. Yesterday morning, when the Lyft driver showed up earlier than I expected to take me to the airport, I rushed out the door and then worried that our cat Joan might have gotten out and been attacked by the coyote that was on the street. During the drive to the airport, I tried to talk myself out of that very far fetched possibility.

I will never get over how the mind can make up unlikely scenarios even when there is little evidence or data to support them.

I tried to get over this by texting my husband Michael at home.

I will never get over this: I wish my wonderful late parents had been able to meet my hilarious and adorable husband Michael.

Here are the rest of my images for today’s “I Will Never Get Over This” blog post.

I will never get over how many National Days there are & I will never get over how it’s also World Ampersand Day.

Here’s what I find when I search YouTube for “I will never get over this.”

I will never get over my gratitude for all those who help me create this daily blog, including YOU!

Day 1469: Rubatosis

Yesterday, I read here, in “23 New Words for Emotions That We All Feel, But Cannot Explain,” that Rubatosis means “the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.”

My regular readers  — especially those who experience sonder (“the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own”)  —  may have the unsettling awareness that I’ve been having rubatosis since my open-heart surgery on September 21. And awareness of your own heartbeat IS unsettling, especially if it intensifies when you’re trying to sleep.

I’m now experiencing jouska (“a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head”) about vemödalen (“the frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical  photos already exist”).

I shall now overcome any monachopsis (“the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place”), kenopsia (“the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet”), exulansis (“the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it”),  and occhiolism (“the awareness of the smallness of your perspective”) to share this song.

 

I am not feeling mauerbauertraurigkeit (“the inexplicable urge to push people away, even close friends you really like”), so I invite you to make a comment with no fear of anecdoche (“a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening”).

While I may have rubatosis,  I also have the comforting awareness of gratitude in my heart for all those who helped me create today’s post and for you — of course! — no matter what emotions you’re feeling but cannot explain.