This has to count as therapy

Hi. My name is Mandie and I have two firmly held beliefs: that the world is going to collapse all around me, and that I am going to be informed of said collapse through text, email, or facebook.

Now, this is not a completely groundless belief, because I have received a lot of really bad news (some expected, some completely out of the blue) through the magic of technology and social networking, especially in the past year or so. And I have also always kind of believed I would be the first person to know about the end of the world. Maybe ever since I was 10 or 11 and my great-uncle gave me a Monet calendar. I think it was one of many subtle attempts by my great-uncle and great-aunt to make me smarter, or maybe calmer, I don't know. At any rate, I understood that the calendar was not intended for regular use so much as it was intended to remain in pristine, museum-like condition on my wall to send out waves of intellectually stimulating and psychologically soothing microparticles that would infest my belongings, body, and brain like so many a superplague.

So imagine my shock when I turned to the September page in my revered, barely-written-on calendar and saw the word "apocalypse" written on September 19.
It didn't matter that it was written in pencil, crookedly, and grotesquely misspelled. That calendar had been in plastic wrap when my great-uncle gave it to me, PLASTIC WRAP. If it hadn't still been sealed, then MAYBE I could accept that this was a prank played by some errant child, but as it was I had to face the fact that this was a poorly spelled divine prophecy.

Yes, I admit I lived through that September 19 and many more after that, but it doesn't really affect my belief system. This could have just been God testing me. To see if I was alert. To see if I would heed His warning and edit His spelling. See, God also decided I would want to be an editor when I grew up. (In which case, God really does not like me.)
Now, I'm not a pessimist in general. Yes, I kind of do expect disastrous tidings to await me every time I check my email or my text messages...

The longer the actual message is delayed, the greater my sense of impending doom, the higher my heart rate, the more likely I am to burst into random weeping or chug a bag of Raisinets to comfort me. You know, come to think of it, the same thing applies when verbal messages are delayed. If you say that you have news, or that you have to talk to me about something, and I don't get to find out what it is right away, I will probably get so stressed out that I won't be able to focus on anything and may lose feeling in one or both sides of my body.

EXAMPLE: This summer I came home and Corinne and Staci were waiting for me, looking as if they had something to say.
Corinne: Mandie. Cirena and Nathan called. JUST called. And they told us... it was like five minutes ago...
Staci: Or so... maybe ten...
(the conversation about the exact minute of the phone call went on for 30 seconds that seemed like 30 minutes)
My hyperactive brain: OH MY GOD, CIRENA AND NATHAN DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT. WHERE WAS IT? WHAT INTERSTATE? TALK, DAMN YOU CORINNE! IS THERE STILL TIME TO SAVE THEM? CAN I DONATE ANY ORGANS? OUT WITH IT!!!
Me: What?????????????
Corinne: Um... they invited us over to watch a movie, but I know we were going to go to the wine tasting so I wanted to see what you thought?
I know it's not good for me to get stressed out this easily. Especially now that I have a new phone. When I got a text message on my old phone, the name of the person texting me would pop up on the screen. With my new phone, the name does not show up, just the first word or two of the message, and in order to read that message, I have to click read, wait 58 hours while it deducts half a minute (I bought unlimited minutes but it still feels the need to go through that motion), and then wait 160 more hours while my message loads. So, for those 218 hours, I don't know who texted me or what they said, I only know the first word or two of the text.
This. Is. Awful. Here's a sample of what my life is like now:
Text: Don't
My hyperactive brain: DON'T EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN YOU *****
Text: I just
My hyperactive brain: I JUST GOT MAULED BY BEARS AND AM USING MY NON-MANGLED HAND TO TEXT YOU FROM MY DEATHBED
Text: We are
My hyperactive brain: WE ARE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE AND I AM BURNING YOU IN EFFIGY TONIGHT. P.S. YES, YOUR ASS DID LOOK FAT IN THOSE JEANS
I should really calm down when I check my text messages. After all, it's not the end of the world.
But what if one day it is?
I mean, God has unlimited power. So I haven't completely ruled out the possibility that one day I and every other cell phone owner will receive the following text:
Hai earth! It's God. I hijacked ur phones lol. Time 4 armageddon :-O

And when that happens, I will throw back my head and into the collapsing sky I will scream with my final breath, "CURSE YOU, CLAUDE MONET!"