I get a bit intense when it comes to caring for the ones I love most. The bundle of worry on my mind grows and grows until it’s so much that I simply start ignoring it, by laying in bed and watching How I Met Your Mother for the gazillionth time. But there are things I can’t let go, not even when the group is debating about whether or not the Playbook is completely sleazy and I should be laughing my panties off (don’t get the reference? Go watch the show, it’s hilarious), my mind keeps coming up with new problems to hide the old ones. Making life difficult for myself, because I care. A trait my mother passed on to me, or so I’ve gathered from the stories people have told me about her.
I’m a serial worrier for sure, and the fact that it drives me insane at times never really bothered me (“just who I am, bla bla”), but after a “Could you please stop worrying?! Nothing’s going on with me, I’m fine, it’s all in your head, you’re driving yourself nuts and you have enough shit to worry about already! Now go do your thing.” it became very clear that this may not be the healthiest habit to have. *
Working against yourself by stacking worry upon worry isn’t progressive, but rather a waste of time and energy. And if there’s something that worries me more than anything, it is wasting time (“Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted.” – John Lennon; needless to say, worrying isn’t enjoyable – I do adore the quote, though.). No more stacking, just dealing with the things right in front of us and letting go of all the bullshit that our minds come up with sometimes. It’ll be better.
*And also that I am not letting go of this man, but that’s a secret.