The Recovering Pessimist

Helping pessimists see the bright side of life without losing their "half empty" roots.

Public Service Announcement: “Good Morning” Texts

Aug
22

The Recovering Pessimist: Public Service Announcement: The "Good Morning" Text -- I love getting a "good morning" text from someone I like/love. However, when that's the beginning and end of the daily conversation, there's a problem. And that problem is HUGE! | www.therecoveringpessimist.me #amwriting #recoveringpessimist #optimisticpessimist

There’s something about waking up each day to a “Good morning” text message from someone you like/love. It makes me smile and (briefly) warms the frigid borders of my heart. Gives me all the feels. Puts a little pep in my step.

However, there’s a catch to the “Good morning” text, and it’s rooted in motive. When sending a “Good morning” text, two questions should come to mind:

  • Am I sending the text because I care?

OR

  • Am I sending the text because I feel that I’m obligated to do so?
Winnie the Pooh/giphy.com

Winnie the Pooh/giphy.com

Once you work out the motive, you move to the second phases: the follow-through. Once you send the “Good morning” text, make sure to do the following:

  • Ask him/her how he/she is doing.
  • Tell him/her to have a good day/evening/night.
Winnie the Pooh/giphy.com

Winnie the Pooh/giphy.com

If you care about someone, it should show in your actions. Click To Tweet

Also, when someone shows you who they are…even if it’s in a text message, believe them. If they don’t care enough to make text messages count, do you really want to invest more time and/or energy to get to know this person?

Barack Obama/giphy.com

Barack Obama/giphy.com

Until next time,

MsWalton

 

#XD30-Chapter 18-Blood, Sirens, and a Text Message

Jun
18

I run out of the bedroom, towards the living room. Susan is screaming bloody murder, her body stiff as a board.

“Stop screaming!” I yell, grabbing her shoulders.

Suddenly quiet, she points down to the sofa cushions. There’s nothing there. I’m confused. I sit Susan down on the sofa and grab a glass of water from the kitchen. I hand her the glass and watch her take a very long sip.

“I…I…don’t know what’s going on with me. These dreams are really fucking with me. I swear I saw blood on the sofa right after I saw Yelena staring at me.”

Yelena? Blood? What the hell is she eating before she goes to sleep?I can’t take four more months of this.

“You’re going to the doctor and I don’t mean the OB-GYN.”

Susan cocks her head to the side.

“A head doctor? Really?!?! I’m not crazy! I know what the fuck I…”

She faints. I elevate her feet and grab her phone to dial 9-1-1. As I speak to the dispatcher, she comes to.

“Don’t move. An ambulance is on its way,” I instruct.

Refusing to listen, Susan attempts to sit up. As she puts her left leg on the ground, I notice that there’s blood running down her right leg. With my free hand, I aggressively push her back down on the sofa.

“Lie down Susan!!! You’re bleeding!!”

I can hear sirens outside. I call the concierge to let him know that the ambulance is coming. I check on Susan. Her forehead is hot, she’s sweating, and a blood-stained spot  is forming on the sofa cushion. The concierge and paramedics are knocking on the door. Opening the door, I step aside and watch them tend to Susan.

“Ashley, grab my purse, laptop, and phone,” she instructs with the oxygen mask on her face.

Ignoring her, I quickly text my mother and Susan’s mother to let them know that we’re going to the hospital. Susan’s not going to be happy, but if she won’t see a stranger, perhaps she’ll talk to her mother.

“Hello? Did you not hear me?”

“I have your phone and purse. Work should be the last thing on your mind when your health is at risk.”

Once Susan get situated on the gurney, everyone heads out towards the emergency elevator. As I follow them down the hall, the notification light on my phone is blinking. It’s a text from Yelena.

“How’s Susan doing?”

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