Narcissism

Have you ever Googled your own name? I have. In the past, a search for "Lea M. Booth" always yielded results for some dead radio announcer and erstwhile college athlete. These days, this blog comes up, along with this sweet article published yesterday on Military.com. I sound almost as though I know what I'm talking about in it. It's narcissistically gratifying.

How about searching for someone else? Someone who's not famous, notorious, or well-known--just a regular person. Perhaps the guy you like, just to see his name in print, or turn up a photo of his sweet face. I did that today. And the results were pretty amazing.

You can call me crazy or obsessive if you want to. But it was comforting, in a weird way, to see those links on my laptop screen; like a confirmation of his existence at a time when my own knowledge--or proof--of his existence is at best a shaky foundation, and all the time, energy, and emotion I've invested in him might as well never have happened at all.

Everything Google turned up, though, was that much more evidence of what a great guy he is, at a time when I am trying my darned-est to be mad at him.

What is it about relationship stress that overshadows every other kind of stress? There is so much going on in my world right now that should be so much more important than this. So why is it that thinking about this man is like my number one cognitive priority?

I can't explain it, and I can't make it go away.