Worry

Worry

I am a worrier and have been for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if it is a deeply ingrained habit learned through childhood experiences, or part of my genetic makeup. I suspect it’s both. As I child I worried obsessively about making mistakes, whether at home or at school. I would worry about whether or not I had hurt someone’s feelings, or worry that I might have left the gate open and therefore let the cows get out. Or maybe I forgot and left the faucet running when I gave the animals their water. I worried that I would die in my sleep without having said my prayers, or that something would happen to my parents or their marriage. I worried about going to hell. As a teenager, I worried that people didn’t like me. You name it, I worried about it.

Today I worry mostly about the people I care about the most – my husband, my son and daughter-in-law, and my aging parents. I want to know that my husband will always be there for me and love me even when I’m old. I want my son and his wife to have a long and happy marriage. I worry about whether they know enough about life’s pitfalls to make wise choices. I worry that they might get in financial trouble like so many young couples do today. I wonder if I can bear watching them go through the hurts and disappointments that are a part of every life. I worry about my son’s desire to get a motorcycle.

I worry about the health and safety of my parents living two and a half hours away. I wonder if I should be doing more for them. They want us to move up there when my husband becomes eligible for retirement in a couple of years, and I worry about whether or not such a move would be wise and if we would be happy there. I worry about what will happen if something happens to Daddy and I am left as the executor of his estate. Will I be able to handle it? Can my sisters and I agree on what should be done? And what about Mama?

I worry about retirement and having enough income when the time comes. I worry about whether or not I do enough to serve God.

Over the years, many people have tried various ways to help me with this problem. Well-meaning Christians have told me that worry is a sin because it is a failure to trust God. I would continue to worry, only then I felt guilty on top of being worried, and worried that my faith was not strong enough. My husband often dismisses my worries as “silly.” That makes me feel lonely and misunderstood – and like there’s something wrong with me, which I guess there is. Other members of my family have teased me about being a worrier – not helpful at all.

A friend of mine will sometimes make a “W” with his fingers when I say something about my concerns. I don’t know how helpful that is. On the one hand, I feel like he’s making fun of me and not taking my concerns seriously enough. On the other hand, it is a reminder that I do tend to worry too much and should stop and realize that I’m doing it again.

Probably my mother used to help me more than anyone else could. She always listened and took me seriously. She showed compassion, knowing that my worries, imagined or not, caused real pain for me. After hearing me out, she would always help me to see the bright side of any situation and show me a more positive way of looking at my life. She reminded me of all I had to be thankful for. I honestly don’t know how I would have made it through my teen years without her. She was the one person I could talk to about my darkest thoughts. I guess being a worrier herself, she understood.

Sadly, I have a hard time talking to my mother about such things today. She is hard of hearing and gets things confused, forgetting what I’ve already told her. Besides, she has enough concerns with her health problems. Thankfully, I have a dear friend that now serves as a very good listener and encourager.

Most people consider me a fairly intelligent person, and I often try to reason with myself when I get consumed with worry. I tell myself it is a huge waste of time and energy. Chances are good that what I am worried about will never happen. In that case, I would have made myself miserable for nothing. And if it does happen, I can worry about it when the time comes. Worrying about tomorrow steals today’s joy. I tell myself that right now, this minute, as far as I know, things are good. So why not be happy and enjoy the moment? I try to ignore the little voice in my head that’s saying, “But what if there are things you don’t know about?”

What I always do when I find myself unable to shake a worry or fear is pray. When I lie down at night, my brain goes into overtime, thinking of every negative possibility. That is when I start praying. I visualize walking down the aisle of the church, carrying my worries like bundles and laying them on the altar. Then I say, “Lord, here, you take these; I can’t carry them any longer.” Then I turn and walk back down the aisle, empty-handed. I often fall asleep at night while praying this way.

Quite honestly, I give God all the credit for the fact that I am still here and reasonably sane after fifty-some years. I can’t imagine going through the ups and downs of life without Him. For me, going to church on Sundays is necessary for my mental and emotional health.

As the cliché goes, there are two kinds of people in this world – those who worry and those who don’t. The two do not understand each other at all.

I often think that people who don’t worry are simply lacking imagination. There’s nothing wrong with my imagination! At night, I will sometimes imagine something happening to someone I love. As my dog neared the end of his life, I imagined taking him to the vet to have him put to sleep. The whole scenario played out in my head just like a movie, in Technicolor with Dolby surround sound. The scenery, the script, it was all there. So vivid was my imagination that before long, real tears were streaming down my face. How sick is that? Eventually I would stop and say to myself, “This is stupid! I’m crying over something that hasn’t even happened yet!” Then with great effort, I would turn off the movie and shake myself out of the gloom I had created. That’s just one example. My movie library is well-stocked.

To be honest, I sometimes think that people don’t worry simply because they are either ignorant about the state of the world we live in, or they don’t care. Yesterday, after solving the world’s problems with my friend over lunch, she said, “Do you ever wonder how so many people just go through life never giving much thought to any of this stuff?” Yes, I do wonder. I read a lot, and, frankly, if some people knew the things I know, they would be worried. I guess other people know, but they are able to just “forget.” And truly, some people really don’t care. The world can be going to hell in a hand basket; it’s not their problem.

No doubt, some people never worry because they are unwilling to face reality. They tell themselves that everything is going to turn out ok even when they make choices that are leading to nothing but trouble.

I have a sneaky suspicion, however, that many people don’t worry because they are mentally and emotionally healthier than I am. They are strong enough to control their own thoughts. They realize that even if the world is a mess, there’s not much they can do about it – so why worry?

Clearly some people are stronger in their faith than I am. They don’t need to be reminded that no matter what happens, God is in control. They have peace amidst the storm.

It goes both ways. Non-worriers don’t understand worriers, either. People who seldom worry about anything think the rest of us are just “nuts” and being around us is a real downer. It’s funny that people have compassion for those who are in physical pain, but feel like the worrier’s pain is “all in his head” and therefore isn’t real. Their solution to our problem is to just snap out of it. They don’t understand that we would give anything if we could. We are who we are, and we can’t be anyone else.

Therefore, I dedicate this post to the non-worriers among us, in hopes that they might, at last, understand.