Japan has just gone through a pretty strong typhoon this week, and I’ll be honest—I was terrified. I knew our home was sturdy enough; our real estate agent had reassured us more than once that it was reinforced to withstand both typhoons and earthquakes. Unfortunately, what it wasn’t built to withstand was my anxiety.

The wind slammed against the windows and rattled the outer walls all night long, leaving me curled up in bed while my husband slept peacefully beside me, blissfully unaware that I was lying there wide awake, shaking with fear. In a way, I preferred it that way. I didn’t want him to see me in quite a pathetic state and I can’t have him worry about me the whole night either.

So anyway, every time I thought the worst had passed, another powerful gust would arrive, louder than the last. By the time morning arrived, I felt more exhausted from waiting it out than worrying about the storm itself.

Eventually, the typhoon moved on(the sun was up at this point). The moment I finally convinced myself it was safe to sleep, the ground started shaking.

“Lindol(earthquake)…” my husband mumbled, reaching for my hand.

I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. “Can Japan please pick a struggle?”

That got a sleepy laugh out of him. At that point, all I could do was laugh too.

I don’t think I slept more than three hours that day, and I probably should do something about my crippling fear of the “what ifs”.