Is It Tomorrow Yet?

A long time ago, Brad asked why I always went directly to the worst case scenario (If he was 20 minutes late getting home from work without calling, I would immediately begin planning his wake). My answer? Because the worst case scenario had happened, and I didn’t want to be caught off guard again.

It reminds me of Connor and Vivi’s conversation in The Divine Secrets of the Yaya Sisterhood:
Connor: I don’t know what the hell she’s so afraid of — it’s like she’s always waiting for the bottom to drop out.
Vivi: You know why she thinks that, don’t ya, honey? Because it did. It always did.

Despite, my validation and excuses for worrying and catastrophic thinking, I read once that worry is an arrogant emotion…as if by worrying we are exerting control over situations instead of putting our faith in God. My mom is a HUGE worrier, and looking at her life, I understand why. Many times worrying was probably the only way she felt any sense of control over situations. She so frequently called the hospitals asking if they had any patients named Swan, Bell or my sister’s last name, that she and the operator (before automated systems) were on a first name basis.

But I’m progressing. I get many opportunities to practice. Brad calls an hour later on his way home from work, Chloe doesn’t text me from 4:00 p.m. until the next morning, Peyton or Lily has an unexplainable headache, and on and on. Normal, daily family life. But, when you indulge in catastrophic thinking–as I sometimes still do–those normal occurrences could turn into daily panic attacks. And although I worry less about things, sometimes I fail and revert to rocking in the old comfortable worry chair.

When I opened my eyes on February 5, 1989, I had no idea that my life had been forever changed. Before that day, it never ever occurred to me that my brother, the strongest, most vibrant person I knew could die. When he did, I was devastated beyond understanding, and some primal part of me decided that going forward I should be prepared for the worst and prevent feeling that kind of heartbreak ever again.

I know now that no amount of worry or preparing for the worst can lessen the pain you feel if the worst thing you can imagine actually happens. However, every minute spent worrying about the unknown will certainly lessen your joy.

One of the best coping mechanisms I learned was in a group therapy class when the facilitator asked regarding anxiety over a situation, “What is the worst that could happen? And what if it did?” We’ve all lived through bad things, and since life doesn’t offer any get-out-of-pain-and-suffering passes as far as I know, the chances are pretty good that we’ll live through more.

I’ve been trying this crazy technique lately of actually feeling my feelings and being with them. Normally, I immediately judge them, “Why do you get so angry about stupid things? What’s wrong with you?” or distract myself from them, “I’m really worried so I think I’ll watch Parenthood and not think about it,” or stuff them, “Well, I’m just going to bury this sadness underneath a healthy dose of anger and maybe some cookies and then I’ll project it onto the next stupid thing that happens.” I know I belong on a couch.

Anyway, you know how in meditation you acknowledge your thoughts–that was a thought–but don’t get caught up in them? That’s what I’ve been trying to do. Today, that has amounted to a lot of acknowledging sadness and crying, which is okay, because I know eventually I’ll stop crying. Still gonna skip mascara today.

Have you ever tried that? I’d highly recommend it. The next time you’re worried or stressing about something, stop and ask yourself: What is the worst possible thing that could happen? What would I do if it did? Let me know what happens.

Have a beautiful day! xoxo

21 Days: Day 12

Well, about 50 of you are hanging in and reading this every day. I’ll send you all thank you notes when it’s over–most of you probably already got or are getting one though. Today was a spectacularly average day sprinkled with some fun little interactions … impromptu chats with friends, a phone conversation with a much-missed soul sister, a snowy walk with the dog. Good stuff.

1. My day didn’t start so great though. The dog woke me at 4:00 a.m. alerting me to how I’d be spending my morning — i.e., scrubbing carpet. But, there were still plenty of blessings to count, and I had plenty of extra time to count them.

2. Historically, I’ve been a worst case scenario thinker. I worried about bad things happening to people I love. In the past few years, however, my life shifted to a degree that I learned to surrender and trust that everything is going to be all right.

For example, Chloe lives in another state. She traveled to two different countries last year. I don’t see her very often. Sometimes I don’t hear from her before I go to bed. Sometimes, I don’t hear from her for almost a whole day; I do start to freak out a little bit when that happens. But mostly, I know that she is okay. I remember my dad telling me, “No matter how old you get, you will always be my baby,” and that is the truth. But I am blessed that I get to have an awesome grown-up relationship with her.

Then there’s the fact that Brad travels frequently for work. Twenty or so years ago, when I was super jealous and possessive, it would have made me crazy not to know exactly what he was doing. The ladies love that guy. And although he has never done anything to make me mistrust him, there is that shrew-y little voice that sometimes suggests he could be getting into all kinds of mischief. I told that voice not to even go there with me. Once, I surmised that he had a perfect job to have an affair, if, in fact, he wanted to have an affair. He gave me the squinty-eye and reassured me with, “You’re silly, baby.”

I realized today, as my daughter headed off to New York City, that I didn’t even get a little bit of a pit in my stomach. I didn’t tell her to be careful or lecture her on all the hidden dangers that could be lurking. She’s been lots of places and knows about the dangers. In fact, she is far more worldly than I am. The only thing I felt was genuine excitement for her knowing that she is going to have an amazing time.

Acknowledging that I no longer have to worry about every little thing makes me extremely grateful for the way my molecules have been rearranged.

3. I have to buy more thank you cards. That is all.

I’m writing early because our afternoon and evening are filled up with activities, but today, I’m going to post it instead of messing around thinking, “Oh, I’ll edit this later…” because that blew up in my face yesterday. 9 days left, kids. I ate a half an avocado and two carrots for breakfast. The crazy thing is: I enjoyed it.