Obsess: to haunt or excessively preoccupy the mind of

I tend to be a little on the obsessive side, and for that reason lose sleep for many varied reasons. Lately, the dark circles under my eyes have become quite pronounced due to my lack of sleep. I think I'm a lot like my dad, the late Rev. Rene Mendoza, as far as being a worrier is concerned. (That's why my friends call me "Whiskers"! Haha...)  I obsess about my weight.  I obsess about my hair.  I obsess about my son’s weight.  I also happen to, yes, obsess about his hair.  I obsess about minute details that nobody else seems to care about.  It's a little embarrassing, actually.  It’s a sickness, really, as the few friends I have left will tell you.  I obsess about things I have absolutely no control over.  I obsess about people I feel wronged by, then hear they feel the same way about me.  Then I obsess about who should confront whom, or if well enough should be left alone.  Then I start to forget the offense when it’ll rear its ugly head in the form of an email from an angry sister of an “ex-friend”.  It’s ludicrous, really.  I obsess about how friends, who promised on their own lives our friendship could never end.  I know people are human, including myself, but I obsess about the lack of mercy shown by those who have been given, and continue to receive, much mercy themselves.  I obsess about daughters who don’t have enough respect for their parents to give them (and their friend who vented to them) the benefit of the doubt or even question the ranting to said parent(s).  Instead, I find myself obsessing about how the same daughter, at the apparent urging of her husband, would print those very private emails off and give them to her father-in-law, behind her own parent’s back.  I obsess about how her father-in-law would accept said emails of MY rant, essentially accepting material known to be stolen, then use said emails to annihilate our few friends left by reading very limited portions of the emails. (Which, when taken out of context, sound much, much worse than actually were written, plus my apology to the parent was never brought up in these closed-door defamations...) Those friends have been encouraged to not "taint" their ministry by associating with us because "lots" of people are talking?!?  "Lots" of people, like who?  Like the ministry who should be praying, not talking?  I obsess about how my wonderful husband did not ask for ANY of this.  I obsess over the utter betrayal and under-handed techniques employed by people who profess to be lovers of God.  I obsess about how family members would turn their backs on us, based on egregious, blown-up extractions of what was supposed to be a private email conversation.  I obsess with how one  or many may actually be convinced my husband and I have any desire, much less the propensity, to hurt them after everything we have been through together.  Obviously, I’ve become quite obsessed and I apologize to those of you who may be very lost reading this.  It sometimes feels good to rant, as many, if not all, of you may do from time to time.  The problem is, when I ranted about what I still feel are quite valid feelings to a friend, my thoughts and discussion were stolen and are being used for character assassination against me AND my husband, who has truly been the victim here.  Yes, I’ve become quite obsessed with preserving a wonderful legacy of hard work, perseverance, and loyalty the McCorkles once held in our former parish that goes back further than ALL of the people there now.  Say about me what you will.  Some of the versions of “truth” I’ve heard and that have reached my family members all the way to Fresno, are quite hurtful.  I cannot change that.  I don’t obsess nearly as much about that.  It’s the fact that my husband is being lumped in with my absurdity that hurts and blows me away.  If you are TRULY hurt, why didn’t you do what it says in Matthew 18?  I guess I have a different Bible or something, but I REALLY, REALLY wish you would have come to ME first, instead of making the leap to naming us heathens, not worthy of your social graces or those of the people you have charge over.  If you were so hurt, WHY, oh, why didn’t you come to me and address your pain?  I would have quickly and whole-heartedly apologized for the pain I caused, but the pain you have caused as a result so much more outweighs my private thoughts. We have tried to clear up any and all discrepancies, but you won't hear it , so I'm reduced to airing all the dirty laundry for the world to see in hopes you may read.  I wonder what we would find out if your private thoughts, rantings, and vents about people you have to deal with were laid bare for the world to see and judge?