It’s no secret that I’m a worrier. I worry about basically everything under the sun: Will I get fired from my job? Will my KISA realize I’m too moody for him and end things? Will we be able to have kids? If we have kids, who should get custody of them if we die? Where will we raise them? Do we have enough water in our refrigerator should we lose power for multiple days and the water goes with it? Do we have enough gas in the car to escape if necessary? What if I have cancer and don’t realize it? Am I gaining weight? Should I see a therapist again? Does my boss’s boss like me…? You get the point. Sometimes my KISA complains about me worrying too much. At least he’s not having to listen to my mind.
The funny thing about worrying is that I’ve convinced myself that if I worry about something enough it won’t happen. So, if I worry about the world coming to an end I’m willing it to not happen. Almost like I can control it if I spend enough time thinking about it. And I am a control freak in addition to being a worrier; a deadly combination.
The hard part about disproving my hypothesis is that most of the things I worry about really don’t happen. Or else if they do happen then I tell myself that I’d spent so much time thinking about it and worrying about it that I was better in the end for being somewhat prepared. Plus it’s usually not as bad as I’d worried it would be. Therefore I can’t convince myself that it’s a bad thing to worry. Maybe if I worry about worrying being bad for me then everything will be ok.
Posted on January 6, 2014, in Life in 'Frisco. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.
OMG–this is me!!!!!!
Wait… if you, of all peolpe, worry about losing your job and your KISA, while I’ve witnessed first-hand just how great you are at your work and how strong your relationship is… what hopes to the rest of us have to stop worrying? I’m guessing, none? Oh, crap.
Btw, I need to say that I’ve developed two fresh new cold sores because I’m too stressed right now, as well as multiple pimples. Yay.