I have been thinking about worrying lately, and all of the stupid things that I worry about. I worry about whether the vegetables will rot before I have time to cook them. I worry if the dog's claws are too long and I need to clip them more often. I worry about socks and pens that disappear. Where are they? I worry about losing my cell phone. I worry about whether I locked the car door. I almost always walk back to my car to check. It is almost always locked.
This may seem surprising if you know me, because I am a generally exuberant and optimistic person. I think I worry less than a lot of people do. I have faith in the people around me to take care of things, and in my own competence, and in the general goodness and natural order of the universe. But I do worry, of course, like everyone.
Spring is the time when my worrying comes to a head. And not just about studpid things. In spring I worry about important things too. I worry about work. Will I get everything done in time for summer? (Hint to self: you have been doing this job for about 20 years. Every year you are ready when summer comes. You can do it.) I worry about my husband and the kids and the dog (not the cat, interestingly) and all of the things I could do for them if I had/made more time for them. Is everybody safe? happy? healthy? Are we making the most of our lives together? (hint to self: Maybe you are not always easy to be married to. Maybe you are not the perfect Mom every minute of every day. Most of the time your family is happy, enjoying each other. You all look forward to seeing each other. There is love and appreciation. Your family is better than okay, even though you have your own interests and activities. Your life is rich and full.) I even worry about trees. There are these trees that I drive past every day on my way to work, some of my favourite trees anywhere, in fact. This spring it seems like they have waited forever to grow leaves. Every time I drive past them, I worry: Are they sick? Are they dead? When will they green up? (hint to self: Look, today they have tiny leaves poking out. They are okay.)
The funny thing about worry is that it doesn't do anything constructive. It doesn't make the work get done or the people feel happy or the leaves grow any faster than nature intends them to grow. I tell myself that when I am trying not to worry. But I also think there must be a purpose for this emotion. I think maybe it's about loving and valuing. Worrying reminds me that some things are important enough to think about them in an intense and urgent way. If I didn't love my work and my family and the trees, I wouldn't care enough to worry about them. But I do love them, so I worry.
question: Do you think I have enough shampoo to make it to the end of the week? I'm kind of worried that I might run out. (OH! I must love my shampoo. ???)
mompoet - wooo-oooo-rrr-eee