OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD

I am a worrier
I am a worrier. I come by it naturally; my mother was a worrier. And, she told me my father was a worrier too. He never showed emotion but the ulcer was one clue.
I never heard my mother say she was depressed, or afraid or angry, but I often heard her say she was worried. So I firmly have a predisposition to worry.
Now, I’m not neurotic. I’m not constantly worrying and I never worry about things completely out of my control, like the weather or the government. I keep my worry to personal and important issues like: Did I turn off the stove? Did we lock the doors? Wasn’t there something I was supposed to be doing today? How come I haven’t heard from my daughters recently?
My coping skill for all important issues has always been that I go to a worst case scenario first. By accepting the worse possible outcome of any worry, I then work backwards showing how I would deal with the situation, trying to ease the worry. Okay, left the stove on. Worse case, it fills the kitchen with gas, explodes and leaves the house in semi-ruin. Who do I know that can do the repair work? Figuring out how to deal with a worst case scenario then makes any lesser scenario easier to handle. Or, so the thinking goes. Or, maybe it is more accurate to write, “So the over-thinking goes.”
The problem is now, as I age in life, there appears to be more to worry about. For one thing, I am beginning to accept the fact that my body is failing. The things I once did effortlessly now require real effort. One quick example; not that long ago I re-shingled the roof of a house we owned. I carried every bundle of shingles from the ground up a ladder and to the roof. No problem.
The other day a friend had a stray bundle of shingles in the way in his garage. It took the two of us just to push that bundle. We found ourselves on hands and knees pushing it. Yikes. So, realizing my body ain’t what it used to be gives me one more worry issue on my list. With each twitch or pain or sore muscle I start seeing myself being rushed to the hospital.
I try and find ways to better deal with this worry issue. Worry beads are nice. I rubbed through two pair last year.
I tried prayer. In the quiet of the night while in deep prayer I did have a voice came across the astral plain loud and clear. It said, “Stop worrying.” I became worried that this might be like when seriously disturbed people say they hear voices. I told the voice I would stop worrying and it stopped talking. But in the morning well, you know, I went back to being me.
It’s not a debilitating problem, often I’m too busy to worry. And it never takes over my existence or intrudes or prevents me from doing anything. I like to think of it as a little cautionary protection.
Of course, I exaggerate for effect. But, the point is, I worry. But when I stop and look closely at just about anything in this culture, it’s hard not to worry.
We are all such a complex mix of genetics and experience. I believe we are who we are. We can modify our behavior or attempt to control it but never really change it. I have tried to learn who I am, accept it and use who I am to navigate my path through life. Then I worry, is that the right path?
Gabriel A. Fraire has been a writer more than 40 years. He can be reached through his website at: www.gabrielfraire.com.