One of my favorite songs by Pat Benatar is “Anxiety” from her
album Get Nervous. Seriously, you should be listening to it while you
are reading this. Not that it has anything specific to do with this blog; I
just like the music.
Some fantasy novels or movies are based on the premise of
turning back the clock. The hero has the opportunity to go back to when they
were a child or when they were in high school, returning them to the simple
carefree days of their youth. If the djinn in the bottle offered the same to me,
I think I would say, thanks but no thanks.
I remember what those days were like, and there was nothing
carefree about them. Now, I don’t want you to think I had a terrible childhood.
I had good parents and siblings. I never wanted for anything important. But it
seems to me, I was worried all the time. When I was a little kid, I worried
about getting shots. If I was told I didn’t have to get another shot for five
years, then that was the beginning of my five-year worry plan. If I was told at
the beginning of the school year that we would have to give an oral report at
the end of the school year, I had a whole year to worry about it. Teen years
gave me more things to worry about (you have no idea how terrified I was at the
prospect of taking my driving test). Stressing about some future event gave me
many sleepless nights.
Anxiety is a two-edged sword. Too much of it is harmful and
debilitating. But it is also a useful tool. From an evolutionary aspect, when a
creature is anxious, there is usually a good reason, and it is time for fight
or flight.
The Buddhists tell us to live in the present moment, not to
dwell on the past or future. Jesus said, don’t worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow
will take care of itself. But worry I did. I still do, though not as much as I
used to. There is something about growing up that teaches you how to deal with
things.
Somehow, I got better. I don’t focus as much on the what ifs
like I used to. I try to live more in the moment and less in the worst possible
future than can be imagined. The reality is that it is not going to be as bad
as you imagine it will. And even if it is bad, the worrying about it has done
you no good. It does not help you cope with it, it just makes it worse. I still
worry, but I am much better now than I was as a teen. Whatever happens, happens.
Que sera, sera.
. . . get nervous, get nervous, get nervous
Star Liner. . .
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