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This is for you...the worrier

  • Writer: becca
    becca
  • Feb 4, 2020
  • 5 min read

If you're anything like me, you worry...a lot. Mostly about irrational things that you have absolutely no control over. I wasn't always this way, or at least not to this extreme. But I don't exactly have a turning point that I can pinpoint, either. It's like it's just gradually gotten worse since college.


I always like to reference this story to describe how much of a worrier I am in comparison to my eldest sister, Rachel:


I was still in college at the University of Missouri. It was the summer after my Freshman year and I was staying in Columbia to "work"...:). I was living in a beat up...and I mean BEAT UP house on East Campus. My parents were going on vacation (can't remember where now) and they asked me to watch our family dog, Tess. Of course, no problem...love that dog to death. So they bring her over to me and everything is going perfectly fine UNTIL...


I thought I legit killed the best family dog in the entire universe.


A little backstory before I continue:


Rachel, my eldest sister, was still living in Columbia as well. She was a fairly new mom, having had her first daughter, Ellie, about a year before this...incident. And when I say that Ellie didn't like to sleep...I mean Ellie HATED sleeping (if a one-year-old could hate sleeping). The girl would fight it 'till death. MAN that girl could SCREAM. :) So, getting her to sleep every night was quite the battle.


Back to the story of me *almost* killing (not actually) the best dog on the planet:


Like I said, everything was going perfectly fine until...


I look down at Tess's face and there are these giant bubbles popping up all over the place. She looked like she'd been stung by a bee or bitten by a spider a hundred times. Her entire body was starting to swell. So, what does my rational (HA) mind do? I put the dog in my car and drive over to my sister's house...at around 2 o'clock in the morning, mind you.


With tears in my eyes, hands shaking, I knock on the door until someone answers. Rachel answers and looks at me with these bloodshot eyes like, "WHAT is going ON???". Probably thinking, "DAMNIT, BECCA. I literally JUST got Ellie down". Though, of course she'd never say that to her sister who was CLEARLY freaking out. I bring Tess inside and start blubbering about how I THINK I KILLED HER...WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???...HOW AM I GOING TO TELL MOM AND DAD???


Here is where the difference in Rachel's and my rationale lies...


What does Rachel do in this CLEAR time of crisis? She googles. Pulls out her phone and googles something along the lines of, "dog's face bubbling up" or "dog allergic reaction". And immediately finds the answer: give the damn dog some Benadryl. She gives Tess some Benadryl and, literally, the swelling goes down immediately.


I tell you this story because:


1. It perfectly describes/narrates the difference between Rachel and I. Rachel = cool, calm, collected, rational. Becca = panicky, dramatic, irrational.


And,


2. Because I want you to know that it's also okay to be the panicky, dramatic, irrational one.

It's okay to be that girl (or guy). But I also know how annoying it can be, even to yourself. Like, for example, we were in the middle of watching You on Netflix (if you haven't watched it and plan on it, maybe skip forward a paragraph or two). And this guy is CRAZY, ya'll. But the creepiest part is that you don't know that until he's like...ready to kill you.


So every morning, the dogs wake us up at around 5:30am. It's still dark outside, but I go and let them out until we're ready to get up for work at about 6:15am. And when we would watch this show the night before, I'd feel like someone was watching me every time I'd let the dogs out. So much so that I'd hurry up, let the dogs out, lock the door and literally RUN back to bed (making sure to quickly pick my feet up off the floor 'cause you know monsters always hide under your bed) and pull the covers over my head.


Like...I'm 27 (almost 28) years old and I still believe monsters are hiding under my bed, ready to grab my feet at any moment, pulling me into the abyss.


Who knows why some of us are such panicky, dramatic loonies when those we're directly related to are so calm and always have their ISH together. It's not like we were raised by two separate sets of parents. Maybe it's because Rachel was the first child and, therefore, my parents did enough worrying for her. By the time they got to me they were like...meh, she can take care of herself. ;)


JK, mom & dad..love ya


It's hard to control the worry, isn't it, worriers? No matter how many times you tell yourself, "Becca, you're being crazy. That is NEVER going to happen to you. And even if it does, there's ZERO point in worrying about it until it does. You can't control it.", you STILL worry. The thoughts still pop into your mind on the daily. It is part of the reason why, though, that I started my mindfulness and spiritual journey; the journey to find my faith. If I could get to a point where I could trust with 100% of my heart that God has control and that it is literally up to Him (the Universe, the Spirit) what happens to me in this life...that would be such a relief.


I'm getting there. I'm working towards it every day. But when you're the "worrier", it's a constant battle. The every day anxiety that comes along with being a worrier is a lot to handle. And it's a snowball effect that leads to health concerns, both mentally and physically. But the reality of it is that it's never going to get any better until you can give up trying to control the things in your life that you have absolutely no control over.


Isn't it silly that we try to do that? Control things that we cannot and never will be able to?


And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. - John Muir

Work every day to give it up. Give up your fight to have control in all things. Trust that He has it. He's got your back; He's got you covered. Yes, if that thing (whatever it is you're worrying about) happens to you, it's going to suck. But you're going to survive, you're going to get through it. How? Because He's there. He's always there.

A place to be #unapologeticallyme

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