Worrying

Seneca said, "There are more things...that frighten us than injure us, and we suffer more in imagination than in reality."

Here's a dirty little secret: I worry. 

Okay, okay, those of you that know me can now pick yourselves off the floor and stop laughing.

I have news for you: it is a secret from the many people I know who think I'm calm.

Alright already, I said,  "Quit laughing!"

There are people out there - friends even, lots of them, who have told me over the years how calm I seem.

Really, I'm glad for all the rest of you who know me better than that, that I can provide you with so much fun right now.  I bet you never knew that I'm such a good actress.

But I have an even dirtier little secret: I really am worrying much less these days. I can - and do - turn off the worrying most of the time.

Gone are the sleepless nights where I stared at the ceiling, willing to see the future, with whatever concern I had resolved. When Harry was little and having all his medical and developmental issues, both Hank and I spent night after night, lying stock still next to each other with out worries for him wrapped around us like blankets.  I can still feel the tears trickling down the sides of my face as I cried silently for my son, who was constantly ill and weaker even than the preemie triplet I knew who had numerous heart surgeries as an infant. Gone are the fall nights when I wondered how the bills would be paid for the next few months, because for some reason, that was the time of year when we were always running dry. Gone are even the days when I worried over the playground politics, both for the kids and myself.

How do I know I worry less? The financial news for one: with Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy and the cautionary emails from our financial advisor coming every couple of days, I realized this morning that I reacted to the news with aplomb. No one really knows where the economy is headed. As long as we have a roof over our head and food on the table, we'll be okay. I finally understand that my worrying will not change Wall Street and what happens on it one bit. 

Likewise, Kit's MRI will show a problem with her pituitary gland or it won't (actually, I totally believe it won't), the pain in my heel will go away or it won't, my father-in-law will have to go back to the hospital or he won't, etc., etc. etc. 

That I'm not worrying about these things doesn't mean I don't care about the outcomes. Of course I do. But worrying will do nothing to insure that what I want will come to be. I want what I want. What will be, will be. Do-be-do-be-do. As an unknown author said, "For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe." I resign.

There may be things I can do to try to influence the universe to align for what I want. This is manifesting, which I mentioned very briefly a couple of posts ago. I'm not ready to write about that yet. This jury is still out on that. And this jury isn't worried about coming to a verdict either.

One last thing: I'd be lying through my teeth (or my phalanges) if I didn't own up to the fact that there is one thing I worry about. A lot. Meditation doesn't help. Logic doesn't help. Maybe a good stiff drink would help, but that might be illegal under the circumstances and it would certainly make me a really, really, really bad role model. I worry about being in a car driven by my sixteen year old son. And Harry, if you're out there, I swear it has nothing whatsoever to do with your driving....