worry

OOPS — WRONG LINK to the 7/24 Newsletter — Here’s the correct one!
Sorry about that!

I grew up in the days of Alfred E. Newman’s freckled face peering out at me from the cover of Mad magazine.

I thought Alfred E. was on to something when he asked “What, me worry?” because I was a kid with not too much to worry about.

When I got a little older I got the first inkling that maybe Alfred E. was…oh, I don’t know…a smirking smart-aleck.

There were plenty of things to worry about! Grade point averages and algebra tests. What to wear to an upcoming school dance. Spring play tryouts.

Worry and I became well acquainted.

As I got older, I knew Alfred E. Newman was truly full of it because there were more things to worry about than ever.

Scholarships, relationships, getting into graduate school. These were things that NEEDED a good worrying.

I comforted myself with the idea there’d be a time “someday” when all worries would be behind me, and I’d make my way into some sort of magical worry-free future.

But that never happened.

Getting a job, making ends meet, scary neighbors in the apartment next door, buying a car, and, and, and….

As soon as one worry dropped off the bottom of the list, three new ones took a prominent spot at the top. There was always something.

Then…a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.

One night I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. I stewed and fretted. Worried and filled myself to the brim with anxiety.

Later that day, in the warm afternoon sun, I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I’d been concerned about the night before.

Seriously!? I’d lost a night’s sleep and couldn’t even remember why!

What’s that about?!?

The next time I took a walk down Worry Lane, I took a turn down Memory Lane instead,

I asked myself: “What exactly were you worried about last week at this time? Last month? Last year?” (And no guessing “money” or “health” or something generic.)

Again, I couldn’t really remember anything specific.

Now when the worrying descends, I play a rousing game of “So What Were You Worried About Last Week/Month/Year at This Time?”

This exercise pushes my brain out of an endless loop of stewing into a more objective and rational mode of thinking:

What day of the week is today?
What’s the date?
What happened on the 17th day or the third Tuesday of June?
What was I doing last year at this time?
What could I have possibly been worried about?

Sometime I even look back at the calendar or a journal to see what I was doing then, and each time I can’t remember, it reminds me that George Washington was right: “Worry is the interest paid by those who borrow trouble.”

Did you catch that phrase — “interest paid”?

Taken in the most obvious sense, there’s a clear monetary context, but taken another way, “interest paid” also refers to the attention paid.

Worry pays attention to things that may, and will in all likelihood, never happen.

And if I can remember what I was worried about?

Well, then — CLUE TIME!! — chances are it’s not an abstract “worry” but a real dilemma to solve…but more about that next week!

I remember an old Garrison Keillor line — something to the effect that his mother never looked back at the house as she pulled out of the driveway because she knew the house was bursting into flames behind her. I can relate to that.

I probably stew too much (and that’s something else to stew about, right?). It’s those garden variety worries that go with the territory of momming, owning a business, and homeschooling.

When friends and relatives hear you’re planning to planning to leave a secure job with benefits to become self-employed, you’re probably going to get the skunk-eye. When people hear you plan to homeschool, some of them jump on board with you and say, “That’s so terrific! You’ll be wonderful at this!!!” When you hear that…remember them (maybe even in your will) because people who activity support your commitment to being self-employed or homeschooling are absolutely worth their weight in gold.

Because there are, unfortunately and inevitably, the others.

The ones who feel compelled to say horrible things, as if it’s their moral duty to stick their noses in where they don’t belong. Why this is, I’m not sure, but they sure as shootin’ can’t keep their mouths shut.

When we talked to one family member about my leaving my career in academics to join Rich in his fledgling design studio, he said, “But what does and artist actually…DO? Why would anybody pay you for that?”

Upon hearing that we were considering homeschooling for our son, another relative told us “homeschooling can be really damaging to kids. They have trouble socially. You really ought to rethink that.”

(Hmmm…let me think for a second…. Nope! DIDN’T ASK YOU!)

I worried. Sure, it’s easy to say “blow it off” or “ignore them,” but sometimes at the end of a long day…those comments would echo in my head.

Whoosh! There I’d be…worrying!!!

What if we go after this business and go broke in the process?
He’s an only child! What if he never makes friends?
What if, what if, what if…

All those “what ifs” are something to worry about! Really! Right???

Actually, maybe not so much.

During the last umpteen years we’ve homemschooled, and the even longer list of years we’ve been self-employed, something amazing happened.

We didn’t go broke. Instead, we’ve built a business that allows us to keep the lights on and live life on our own terms.
Our son has made friends and been on sleepovers. He’s spoken in front of groups, performed alone in front of huge crowds, and won and lost during competitions.
Most of the what ifs never happened, and the one that did turned out to be problems that were quite surmountable.

Over the years, I’ve trained myself to pay attention to what’s going on around me.

Remember the client who emailed saying, “Thank you so much for your help. You make us look terrific, and it’s always so easy to work with you.”

Remember the sheriff deputy who said, “Oh, I remember your son. He asked a really insightful question at a presentation I did.”

Somewhere along the way, I realized that most of what I worry about never happens. And I don’t want to let worry about an uncertain tomorrow be a thief of today’s joy.

What, Me Worry?

Something to Stew About…Or Not…