A long time ago I read the book Quarantine, by Greg Egan, and if I’m thinking of the right book (and that is called into question approximately once a year when I try to refer to the book and I get it confused with another Greg Egan book called Permutation City, which seems like the right name for the book I read but apparently is not—and in fact, just now, the way I recalled both titles was to say to Paul “What is the book by Greg Egan I actually read, the one I can never remember the title of because it doesn’t seem right?,” and he said “Quarantine,” and I said “And what is the book I always think is the one I’ve read, because the title makes more sense?,” and he said “Permutation City”)… …I have lost the reins of this sentence.
A long time ago I read the book Quarantine, by Greg Egan. What I remember about that book is that the plot revolves around a man who can do a particular trick: he can split himself into EVERY POSSIBLE TIMELINE, and then CHOOSE THE ONE HE WANTS. So for example! Let us say he wishes to break into a secured building. He splits himself into every possible timeline, and then he chooses the one where the security cameras happen to be malfunctioning at the exact moment the guards happen to be distracted by something in another direction, and where the last person to have left the building happens to have left the door just barely ajar so the lock isn’t engaged—and so he walks right into the building, just as if it were unsecured.
This is where we are starting: with the amazing concept of splitting timelines and choosing the one where everything goes right. (In all the others, he fails.)
A number of years ago, I was in a store with Elizabeth, she was about ten years old I guess, and she asked to go off to look at something on her own, and I said she could, and then after she had been gone longer than I felt comfortable with, I went looking for her and I couldn’t find her. I looked through what I thought was the entire store and I couldn’t find her. And what I was thinking, as my mind became increasingly detached from my body, was that probably I would find her—but that if we could split the timeline into all the possible timelines, there was at least one timeline where I would not find her. That that is exactly what happens to some parents: they think “Ha ha. She is not actually gone. It feels like she is actually gone, but that is because I am being extremely silly and I am panicking right now, but I will in fact find her,” and then they do not, and they never do; at some point they end up calling the police; the police come; that timeline continues in a surreal episode of what must feel like a TV show but is not. And after I found her, I continued to be affected by that realization: that the nightmare scenario that everyone thinks is ridiculous to panic about, is the same nightmare scenario that DOES IN FACT HAPPEN to some parents. It really does happen to them. That’s why the rest of us panic; that’s why it’s not silly.
I had another example of that this evening, when Elizabeth went out to pick up trash along the side of the road to fulfill a volunteer-hours requirement, and she said she would be gone an hour, and I almost offered to go with her but then I didn’t; and after about an hour and a half I realized it had been longer than an hour but I told myself not to worry, and then it had been about two hours and dinner was past ready and she was still not home, and Paul was starting to say he should maybe go out in the car and just sort of drive randomly up and down the streets looking for her. And part of me was telling myself not to panic, because everything was going to be fine and she would soon walk in the door and then we would eat dinner and I would feel silly; but part of me was seeing again the timelines, all split, and how some of those timelines involved her not coming home. She did come home. Nothing had happened, she was just gone longer than expected. She was fine, and I was silly to have worried. We ate tepid dinner. It was one of the good timelines.
It’s tempting in these situations to feel embarrassed: oh, I panicked over nothing, of COURSE nothing happened; oh, I over-reacted, I let my imagination run away with me; oh, I’m so silly, why does my mind always have to go to the worst possible scenario?? But it’s clear from the news every day why we do that: so many parents panic and then it’s not nothing; so many parents imagine terrible things that turn out to be true; so many parents end up living the worst possible scenario. We’re not wrong to understand that it’s an option. We’re not wrong to notice and be grateful for our lucky timelines.
I didn’t panic enough two weeks ago when we were in the ER and I chose not to have my kid admitted for psychiatric evaluation. I panicked just enough the Saturday before last. Now we’re in a holding pattern but it’s stable and I’m feeling very lucky and grateful.
I’m glad Elizabeth’s ok. I’m glad she’s home with you. May you continue to be so lucky. xoxo
I’m so sorry for all your kid and family are going through. It is so hard. My aunt is also hospitalized for a mental health crisis right now, and I’m her closest family member. I keep wondering in which timeline our society developed appropriate mental health resources, and how we can get it together in this timeline.
Wishing you all the best.
I hope it continues to be stable and eventually be good. the world is so tricky. all the time I think, but especially now, in this timeline.
Brigid, you made the right choice.
We are/have been in the same place. Reply if you need my email address to vent to a sympathetic ear.
Holding you in strength.
Thank you so much for writing this. It’s really, really hard.
I feel this so much.
Brigid, I have a very close family member who went through a similar sounding mental health crisis in high school. It’s decades later and he is a thriving happy adult. I tell you this because sometimes when I can’t imagine what will happen next, it helps me to hear from people who have been through the same and had a happy ending. I will be holding you and your family in my heart in these coming days and weeks.
I feel like this is the definition of anxiety – being able to see all the timelines. My husband thinks I’m insane when the Dr tells me I have a 1% chance that my cyst is cancer and I worry about it. Yes, if it was a 1% chance of rain I would not bring an umbrella, but I’m sure as hell going to have that cyst removed. Makes no logical sense but here we are.
Reminds me of the movie Sliding Doors.
I don’t separate from my kids in stores much due to “what if”. I’d prefer to be together if the worst happens. Yet another thing gun violence has taken from us, another steal of the kids freedom.
Thanks for writing.
My 17 yr old daughter set off on her first official interview at a cute little local bookstore. We are a small suburb outside of a big icky city. When she had been gone 75 minutes, my senses spiked. I tracked her phone – it showed the bookstore. But my mind went in every different direction (Maybe she was kidnapped and they dumped the phone in a dumpster outside the store? Maybe something nefarious is happening DURING the interview? Maybe they hired her on the spot and she’s working!) I was *this close* to doing a drive by to check on her or pop into the itty bitty store and frankly I am shocked that I didn’t. My husband agreed it was off, but didn’t reach panic mode like me. So yes, my mind went to allllll possible outcomes – good and bad. She was gone for over 2 hours and 15 min. HIGHLY unusual for a little pt bookstore gig. (She didn’t get job bc she couldn’t start that exact weekend due to other plans made. The shop owner was quite awful toward her about that and in the end I think her behavior toward my daughter and the 2+ hour interview were red flags.)
Thanks for writing this. These two sentences are gold: “We’re not wrong to understand that it’s an option. We’re not wrong to notice and be grateful for our lucky timelines”
I’m usually not a worrier, and usually keep in mind the best outcome but the other outcomes are always in the back of my mind. Sadly, five months ago we had one of the unlucky timelines with my stepson and we so much wish he had decided not to go out, and chosen the lucky timeline. We definitely need to listen to our gut, and we need to worry and we should always be grateful for the lucky timelines.
I’m so sorry, whatever happened, that you bumped into an unlucky timeline.
This is so well said, Swistle. ❤️
So True! I often am grateful for my lucky timeline. And then I give a bunch to charities that assist with unlucky timelines. I’ll have to do that today.
If you’re wondering things like: abortion funds, healthcare for the homeless, food banks, raices, world central kitchen…..
It’s so hard to find the balance, isn’t it? Because I think most mothers (I typed parents there… but then I thought actually in my experience, no. It is MOTHERS) live our lives with that ‘what if?’ anxiety hanging over them. But then… what if we let the ‘what ifs’ get in the way of enjoying our lives and letting their kids enjoy their lives?
I feel like every time I hear a horror story (kid found in washing machine, elderly not-safe-behind the wheel driver kills children, choking incident, car accident, etc) I add an avoidance strategy to my daily life – double check everything, kids always on the inside of the pavement, littlest rear-facing in the car as long as humanly possible, blueberries cut in half, etc etc. But of course a lot of the terrible timelines are things you could never foresee or imagine, or have any control over at all. So maybe the healthiest option is to control what you can, and use the rest to remind you how precious and tenuous it all is, so you don’t take it for granted? The jump from there to TOTAL ANXIETY SPIRAL seems…. small, though? And I have yet to even face the concept of older, more independent children.
Talking of which, one thing I don’t have to factor in, living in the UK, is that the highest cause of death for children in the US is gun crime. I don’t have to feel anxious about a timeline in which my 7 year old could be a school shooting victim, and that’s the biggest reason why (my husband is American) we won’t ever move to the US.
I do think it’s fathers, too. At least, in my personal experience, I (a mother) almost always assume the best possible outcome and my husband is on high alert about certain possibilities. My husband’s brother is on high alert all the time about everything, while his sister is by far the most relaxed of the siblings.
My personal experience – which is of course just that! – is that it’s not that the men in my life care less, they just seem to live in the present more and not be in the constant risk-assessment mode that most of the mums I know exist in. I think my husband (and my dad and brother in law) probably aren’t plagued as much by the ‘what if?’ I’m sure you’re absolutely right and that’s not a universal thing though.
Yes, in my marriage my husband is definitely it Ely the more anxious and risk-averse one too! I know we may be in the minority. (Though also in my experience, dads tend to have less of what I call “toddler antics immunity,” so the moms I know tend to be more relaxed about the behavior and safety of young children whereas the dads tend to have less “contact hours” and thus stress more about run-of-the-mill kid stuff. Maybe that’s a slightly different category.)
What an excellent essay. Thank you.
Just when I think I’ve found the right blend of rage and despair to get me through life in a country where too many of my fellow citizens are in love with guns, some blogger makes me sniffle
I wish I had screen shot it, but a fb friend posted a poem that basically said “Thank you for ordinary days and boring check ups and traffic and regular stuff.” It basically said if the day is memorable it could be for bad reasons so we should appreciate the forgettable.
This reminds me so much of that.
Thanks for this perspective. The last few days my head has been switching between rationalizing about my loved ones’ relative safety (plentiful food, safe home, low average statistics for violence) and worry. Its a disheartening place to be. I’m going to wallow for a bit and then gather strength to fight the good fight…
Coincidentally I was talking to a good friend over dinner last night about my father’s unexpected death in January. I worried to her that I was maybe coming across as super-weird by being able to say dry-eyed in conversations that my dad dropped dead in January (which he literally did). But the thing is, despite being 84 he had NO known health issues other than some heartburn he took a daily med for. He didn’t have heart or cholesterol problems or anything, he was very active and fit, and he did a full medical physical every year to maintain his pilot’s license so it’s not like he was just sticking his head in the sand. He even had that extra genetic testing for genetic markers of inherited conditions when he did the ancestry DNA stuff and he had zero genetic susceptibilities that could be tested for.
So (finally getting to the point), I told my friend that I feel like the timeline split when he had this freak health fail. It feels like the real timeline has branched off and continued along without me and I’m stuck in this offshoot that’s the wrong timeline and it doesn’t feel real.
I am so sorry to hear this Shawna. We, too, went through the entirely unexpected death (aortic dissection) of my otherwise perfectly healthy, active, 78 year young MIL. Your line captured it perfectly – “I’m stuck in this offshoot that’s the wrong timeline and it doesn’t feel real.” 5 months later I’m still crying A LOT.
I’m so sorry for your loss too HL. For what it’s worth, your reaction probably comes across as more “normal”. I’m probably not crying enough.
We don’t actually know what happened (perhaps adding to the surreal feeling), as the local authorities declined to call in the coroner / perform an autopsy because of my dad’s age. It was almost certainly a cardio-vascular event, though my money is on something bursting vs something being blocked, given his previous clean bill of health and lack of any known issues.
ON a practical note, you should turn on location sharing with your kids. It’s a lot easier for me to feel comfortable about Gabriel running late and not responding to my texts when I can see where he is on a map.
Yes! I have location sharing with everyone in my household so I don’t have to worry when they’re not where I thought they’d be. And it cuts down on annoying my husband with too many “Have you left yet?” or “Are you almost home?” texts. Plus I have sharing with my senior mother who gets lost very easily while driving. It is so handy to be able to know where she is so I can direct her to where she’s trying to be, and when she broke down I could tell the tow truck driver exactly where she was.
I feel like since I had a baby I have doubled the amount of people that I get existentially worried about. I really should have seen this coming… it’s exhausting!
Thank you so much for this post.
This is so true and well written and harrowing. Thank you.
Extended family had the “Driving along the streets looking for the person who was past due home but is surely just delayed for some logical reason” situation two years ago. It ended in the “this can’t be happening” alternate timeline that included two solemn police officers showing up at their door with the worst kind of news.
All that to say, I’m so glad your situation ended up in the way more common, good timeline. But, you described so well the partially controlled panicky thinking that precedes the point where the timelines split.
As usual, you’ve articulated something that I’ve only ever felt dimly (except that part about the book titles – that is perfect, and something I have experienced). I once lost Angus at a little vegetable stand where the only setting was a sandbox and then a wide open field and a forest, so while I was running over to the sandbox I was thinking this isn’t actually possible, but also I was thinking ahead to calling the police and my husband to let them know that I lost our child to a super-fast kidnapper who whipped out of the forest and back while dragging a boy. Angus was hiding in the little castle because he didn’t want to leave the sandbox. In this timeline, anyway.
Thank you for your wisdom and your timing. I have found myself pondering on this post ever since I read it. Since I am forever refreshing your page in the hopes there is a new Swistle post, I read it within minutes of it being posted *humble brag*. (Side note: I can not properly explain the joy I feel every time I realize there is indeed a new Swistle post. )
Since the initial reading, I found myself sharing your ‘lucky timelines’ ideas with others including my spouse. The first time I shared it with him, it was because I considered myself in a fairly lucky timeline. But then, we unexpectedly veered off into an unlucky timeline (fortunately, it was not the unluckiest of timelines and we are still figuring out the consequences) and I found myself comforting myself with the idea that there was another me out there who was oblivious to the unlucky events I was facing.
On January 2nd my family was eating dinner in a restaurant with my mother, her boyfriend, my sister and her boyfriend, my husband and my two teens. In our unlucky timeline, my mom choked on a bite of steak. And for 3-4 minutes, while she turned blue and lost consciousness, a coexisting lucky timeline had a firefighter at the table next to us. He performed the Heimlich and then cpr while I sat stunned holding mom’s hand, my kids cried, and my sister yelled for help. And in this unlucky timeline with lucky parts my mom lived. And my sister and I, both mid-40s, are still not right. We still sort of live in that timeline of almost what-if. These timelines are real and not real and I think that’s what makes those of that can see them all that much more full. Of caution, but also of gratitude. And the occasional wild eyes when teens are home late.