I admit it. I’m a worrier. I always blamed it on my mom. She was a classic worrier and everybody knew it. She worried about everything.
I remember leaving her house one night a few years ago after a Holiday dinner, and as I thanked her for dinner and kissed her goodbye, she said in a low voice, “Call me when you get home.” I was 50 years old! It was snowing a little, very little, and she was worried.
I’ve recognized the fact that I do worry unnecessarily about things I shouldn’t many years ago. I mean, I’m not a blithering idiot or anything, I can go about my job and my life in what appears to be a normal manner. I am actually proactive about it. At a minimum I will try to take a few minutes and take some relaxation breaths each day. When I can fit it into my schedule, ( just an excuse) I have practiced meditation and yoga. The more I do, the better I feel. That’s not new news.
Recently I was having one of those days when each time the phone rang the news got worse. Not catastrophically bad news, just typical life’s hard sometimes news. So my worry meter was spiking. I needed advice on how to handle this, so I did what any normal person seeking medical advice would do. I went on the Internet.
That decision backfired. I Googled something like, “how not to worry about your kids” or something like that and for the next ½ hour read forum after worry forum and realized one thing. My mom wasn’t the only one. I have a lot of company. I didn’t read one thing that calmed me down. In fact, I learned that reading about people worrying made me worry more.
Then I started worrying about worrying too much.
I think tomorrow its back to Yoga for me.