I over-analyze everything. Absolutely E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. I mean, it's like a sickness!
What? You want examples? Hard-core proof?
Okay, here's one for you.
Last night, my friend Tabby and I are leaving a meeting together, and she's all, "Hey Megan, did you know your driver's side headlight is out?"
And I was all, "WHAT!?!? I just replaced the dang thing! Why is it out!?"
Tabby was just doing me a favor, which I appreciate, but I immediately started analyzing why the headlight went out. Forget the fact that I just took a 600+ mile round trip and any manner of crap could have flown up and rendered it "unworkable." Nope, I've got to turn it over in my head a million and one times to try to figure out why it happened ... now.
Yes, there are people starving all over this world, and I'm freakin' about a now defunct headlight. I have not missed the irony in all of this, trust me.
I've not slept all that well in probably a week and a half, and I know what it is. My mind is working through a particular situation that I've been stuck on for a while now. One of those issues that's not Earth-shattering ... it's not going to solve world peace, but it nags at me ... and as long as I internalize it, no harm - no foul. The problem is that since I seem incapable of just letting it go and working itself through to its inevitable conclusion, I've worked out a million and one impossible scenarios in my head ... improbable scenarios ... stupid as crap scenarios.
This morning, after being awakened by my inconsiderate neighbor, who I swear if he doesn't buy a leash for that stupid dog ... after being awakened from a fitful night of sleep to begin with, I had a break-through, and this is that my mind works like an author, cuz, well, like, I am one! Apparently, for me to work through the twisty-turny by-ways and highways of life, my brain has to create stories ... possible beginnings, middles, and ends. And maybe that's okay, as long as I realize, real life, it's going to run its course, on its own course, whether I like it or not.