Hello, my name is amanda janaan and I am a psycho-caller. I once called my mother a record 28 times in a row when I went to meet her at the airport. I called; she did not answer; so, I hang up and call again. My husband used to joke about it when we were dating. He would say, “Baby, you CAN leave a message. I’ll call you back”, but I can’t. I must call again, if only to know why you did not answer the first time. When I call someone I need them to answer.
Husband and I spent a LOT of money on a holistic doctor when I was first diagnosed with UC. They took tests on everything from my spit to my poop and the only thing of interest that I learned is that I am incapable of reacting appropriately to stress. I don’t produce enough cortisol. This totally explained why I don’t get shaken up and all crazy when things go bonkers. This is why my husband says he never wants to be in a situation that relies on me having a quick fight/flight response. However, if you want to see me get as close to a panic response as possible, don’t answer the phone. The only thing worse is when my babies are sick.
Let me tell you why. I was in the 10th grade. I spent the night at my best friend’s house. I called my house the next day and the phone rang and rang, but nobody picked up. The answering machine did not come on. I called again and the phone rang. This was not like my nosy father who always answers or my overprotective, slightly obsessive mother who to this day likes to know my every step. I called off and on for hours. Finally, day turned to night and I got a call that my father had had a stroke. At that moment (and even now as I type and read the words to myself) I felt my world go quiet. I heard my mother explain and I understood, but nothing penetrated deep enough to cause alarm. She told me she couldn't answer because they were at he hospital and she must have done something to the machine. My first reaction as usually was calm as I processed what was going on. My only real concrete thought was, "Oh, that's why they didn't answer the phone."
Things are the same way now, but the minute someone does not answer the phone I go into “Oh my God, they must be dead!” immediately. That is what happened today when I went to drop off my children, LoLo Monster and Suga Booga, at my parent’s house. I had been calling since 7. Alarm bells went off in my head, but so as not to alarm LoLo who was awake we made calling a game. I called 4-5 times back to back. My original question of whether to make a bottle for Suga faded to the back of my mind quickly. I called again as I drove around the corner to their house. I arrived and rang the bell like a crazy person. My parent’s bell is so loud you can hear it through both doors as clearly as in the house and got no answer. I peak in the window and the lights are off. I officially enter FULL BLOWN PANIC.
I wonder if someone broke in. I wonder if they both collapsed. I wonder about carbon monoxide from leaving the oven or gas stove on. I wonder if I should call the police. I get so crazy that I call my husband 4 consecutive times on his first day of school. (**For the record: My husband is an adult male teacher, not a middle school or high school student.) I called knowing he was probably in a meeting, but he is the only one who knows the code to their garage and I have got to get in there. I send him a text message. I call again. Then I finally snap and begin to debate between calling my sister and the police. I decide to call the police first and my sister second because I will need her to watch the babies. I flip over the phone to start dialing 911 and hear a click. I turn and it is my mother opening the door in her night gown. I am elated, relieved and furious all at the same time. “How long have you been out here?” My reply, “I was about to call the police.” She apologizes and explains that she overslept because she took a nighttime headache pill. I march my troops into her home, make sure she is ok and leave. I get in the car, look in the mirror and realize that I don’t look any worried at all. I am not sweating. I don’t have a hair out of place. I even spoke to a neighbor walking by. The only proof of my madness is the call log.
I am a psycho-caller and this was my morning. Next time you see my number, answer the phone.
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