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Anxiety

 


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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