Yeah, I am a worrier.
Growing up my parents used to call me a “worry-wart”. I don’t know if this is a Midwestern colloquialism or whether it’s even something others say. But they took note of all my worry.
Worrying about grades. Worrying about being prepared for band. Worrying about having my lines memorized for a play. Worrying about my times in swimming. Worrying about my weight. Worrying about being bullied. About being gay. about my parent’s marriage. About nuclear war. About being a disappointment.
You name it- I worried about it. It’s amazing I didn’t get an ulcer.
The older I’ve gotten, I’ve really tried to adopt a zen approach to things. Be in the moment. Don’t worry about things beyond your control. Trust in others. Things like that.
For the most part it has worked and I have de-stressed my life considerably. Until recently.
Shit with my mom and her failing health. Starting a new job. Training that I need to pass (for said new job). My own health. All this crap is pressing in me and I’m finding myself worrying again.
I’ll wake up at 4 am and my mind starts racing with work thoughts. Or I find myself worrying about mom every weekend. I’m working out a lot to try to de-stress, but it only works to a point. Overall the worrying is making me tired and irritable. I’m reaching a burn-out point.
Mom gets released from skilled care this Friday. I’m really hoping she’s ready to be on her own again- at least for awhile longer. I’m heading down after my exam on Friday to be with her this weekend to smooth her transition.
I really need to get her taken care of so I can focus on mitigating the stressers in the other areas of my life.