Worry. It’s a word with such a tense feeling. Why do I worry so much? And why do I worry about everything? I worry about the big things, and I worry about the small things. My husband even calls me Chicken Little. I try to relax and stay calm and talk myself out of the worry, but it’s just easier to think the scary thoughts instead for some reason.
I worry about Ava running down the sidewalk too fast and falling too hard.
I worry about what school will be like when Ava starts.
I worry about Ava’s feelings getting hurt.
I worry about about my parents if the day goes by, and I realize I haven’t heard from them yet today.
I worry about my high school niece Kelsey making the right choices.
I worry about my uncle and the cancer that he is fighting and winning. But still fighting.
I worry about my husband driving the expressway every day.
I worry about the health of all of my family members.
I worry about a friend and her early stages of pregnancy after a recent miscarriage.
I worry about my students and what some of them are going home to.
Where does all the worry come from? I NEVER use to worry before. Is it because I’ve been through some things in my life to make me realize I’m not invincible? Is it because I’m older? Is it because I’m a mom? Is it because I’m more aware of the world we live in? Whatever the reason, I need to find that carefree person I once was and find a balance of carefree and worry wart.
Because otherwise I’m going to drive us all crazy.