Worry's Kryptonite

I'll explain this at the end. :)

If you've read much of this blog over the years, it will come as no surprise to hear that I worry. I worry a lot, about just about everything. When one concern expires, another always rears up behind it, reminding me that worry is inescapable, that--no matter how exhausting it feels--it always seems to have power over me.

As the New Year turns, I've been thinking about resolutions. An educational consultant I follow shared this thought in a recent newsletter: "A few years ago, I switched from yearly resolutions to choosing a word for the year and that has helped shift me to a healthier place of manifestation." What a novel thought--not focusing on something to change but, instead, on something to center oneself around.

For the past few days, I've been vacillating between worry and... I'm not quite sure what. Mostly just worry, I suppose. Worry about a sick and aging cat, about keeping up with friends as I enter my busiest season at work, about being a good enough parent and wife, about preparing to finish one semester course and begin a new one, about whether the car is making a funny sound that needs to be checked out, about if I'll be able to complete the 10-miler I signed up for in April, about why the front burner on the stove isn't working right... you get the idea.

Often, the only thing to put the brakes on the speeding train in my head is getting out of the house and moving, which usually means a morning run but which, over this break, has more often meant a hike with my family or walk with a friend. When I did just that today, it was with a well-known Corrie Ten Boom quote at the forefront of my mind: "Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength." I've been ruminating on this idea for a couple of days now--on the idea that worrying today about what the cat's labs will reveal tomorrow cannot change what they will reveal; it can only make me miss out on today. And today has been pretty great: Lily's neighborhood hot cocoa stand on this last day before break ends, the joy of a walk with my best friend, the comfort of the cat sleeping on my lap with all four of his paws in the air.

For some people--perhaps even for many--the opposite of worry is "hope," and perhaps that's the word they'd choose to focus on for the year. Merriam-Webster offers me a wealth of other options for antonyms: "calm, content, ease, peace, quiet, sereneness" and even (the awfully unhelpful) "unconcern." But I don't think any of those words oppose the kind of worry I experience. My worry is not about trying to feel differently; it's about changing the reality in my head. And, so, here are my words for 2020:

"Reality check."

When I'm worried, my new task for myself is to fact check the reality of that worry. Sometimes worry is real, and that's not a bad thing; I can acknowledge that when it's the case and make a plan to move forward. But when the plan is already in place, when the vet appointment is already made, when Jeff is already planning to call about the stove, when we've just played a family round of Go Fish, when I have a syllabus ready to go for the new course this spring, then all my worry is doing is stealing today's strength.

And guess what, Worry? You don't get to steal my strength. Because, if I let you do that, I miss out on all of this.

Lily's first time skiing

(Rocking Horse Ranch, December 2019)

Lily's first trail ride

(Rocking Horse Ranch, December 2019)

Watching Lily fill her nature journal with new discoveries

(Riverbend Park, January 2020)

A New Year's Day family hike on the Potomac

(Riverbend Park, January 2020)

As for that picture at the beginning, worry can't steal today's small moments either. My favorite dressing just came back in stock at our local Giant after being out for months, and I'm elated! If I'd worried about it every day, would it have come back faster? Sure wouldn't. But you know what forgetting to worry about it gave me? Incredible joy the day it returned!

Worry, you've got a new kryptonite.

2020, we got this.