As my partner and I prepare for our long-awaited vacation—our first in two decades—I should be brimming with excitement. However, my mind has other plans. Instead of reveling in the anticipation, my thoughts are consumed by a whirlwind of anxieties, ranging from minor inconveniences to catastrophic outcomes. This is life as a constant worrier.
With just 48 hours until our flight, the typical excitement that others might feel transforms into a countdown of potential disasters. While I attempt to strategize my packing list, I’m also preoccupied with every surface I’ve touched recently. The news has been buzzing about a particularly bad flu season, and I can’t help but wonder—did I properly sanitize my hands after my last visit to the gym? Did I wipe down that shopping cart? What if we end up sick before our departure? More worryingly, what if our kids catch something at school? I can manage a cold, but a stomach virus? Our tickets are nonrefundable, leaving us no escape, but how would I leave my mother to handle a house full of sick children?
And speaking of my mom, she’s stepping in to care for our kids while we’re away. Sure, she has decades of experience in parenting and has successfully navigated her own children through life, but my anxious brain cannot quiet itself. She’s older now and has transitioned from the busy years of raising children to a more laid-back lifestyle. Will she have the energy to manage four rambunctious kids? Will they listen to her, or will their endless squabbling drive her up the wall? Have I prepared enough meals for the week?
Then, my thoughts spiral into melodrama. Sure, I worry about her ability to cope, but what if our flight encounters trouble? What if something were to happen to both of us, leaving her to raise our children? The mere thought sends shivers down my spine. What if my life were cut short, depriving me of witnessing my children grow up? Have I organized our affairs? Is there enough life insurance to cover their future, from college tuition to those pricey basketball shoes?
I envision our luggage tags drifting in the ocean, the last remnants of my existence, while my kids spiral into a life of turmoil and addiction after losing their parents. The anxiety intensifies when I picture family members rifling through my belongings and stumbling upon my personal items, which simply adds to the stress.
I know deep down that these scenarios are unlikely to happen, and my worries are largely unfounded. Yet, my brain persists, reminding me of the last victims of a plane crash who never saw it coming. It’s as if I believe that by worrying, I’m somehow preparing myself for the unexpected—like a bizarre form of insurance.
Despite understanding that worrying won’t change the outcomes, I still find myself trapped in this cycle of anxiety. It’s draining to navigate life under a constant cloud of potential threats, and often my mind races when the world around me is quiet. I recognize that I’ve become accustomed to this way of thinking, but I often wonder how much more fulfilling life could be if I sought help. Perhaps I’ll look into therapy once we return from vacation—assuming our plane remains safely in the air.
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In summary, being a constant worrier is a taxing experience that affects daily life. While it’s easy to get lost in a sea of anxieties, seeking support and understanding can lead to a healthier mindset.