I am a worrier.
I worry about what people think of me.
I obsess over things I’ve said or done. Completely innocuous things.
I watch my kid like a hawk when we are out. (That may not be accurate. Hawks have amazing vision and I’m blind as a bat. Except bats aren’t really blind and pretty much know everything that’s going on. Maybe I watch my kid like a bat?)
I have a hard time falling asleep at night sometimes because my brain kicks into overdrive thinking of all the things I might have forgotten.
I fret about the things I write. About it being good enough. About someone hating it.
I have a mental map of how to escape my house in case of fire or secret ninja attack.
Ok, maybe I don’t worry about ninjas.
But probably something equally silly.
Some of the worry I can’t help. Issues with anxiety aren’t that straightforward. It’s not always something you can control. (I worry about that. Ha.)
But some of it, some of the time, is in my control. Some of it is about letting go.
I was staring at this photo from a few years ago. It was a rare moment since having the first kid that I went for a stroll by myself. While on vacation with my parents I decided to take some photos at sunset.
Everyone else was settled in for the evening. I worried about leaving the kid with my parents and the hubs. Because that’s what I do when leaving my kid with perfectly capable people.
But I ignored the irrational voice and the what-if’s and went for a walk.
As I walked toward the water and looked out at the horizon, I could see storms in the distance.
Oddly, I love storms. As much as they should make me worry, I find they have a calming effect on me.
I took my camera out and started snapping pics of the sunset, mostly blocked by the clouds.
In the water were two figures. I couldn’t make out anything more than their silhouettes, but they seemed absolutely unmoved by the oncoming storm, or the threat of darkness. They looked peaceful.
With rays streaming out above the clouds, and bold color peeking through underneath, why wouldn’t they? Who wouldn’t enjoy the serenity of sitting in the warm Gulf waters, watching the constantly changing painted sky above?
I don’t know anything about those two people, but I doubt in that moment they were plagued with worry.
They probably had stresses like anyone else. Things they could be obsessing over, reasonable or ridiculous. But they were enjoying that moment instead.
And I want to remember that. Whether it be the madness going on outside my doors, within my home, or inside my head, sometimes I need to let go of the “what if” and “what’s next” and enjoy the now.
To all my readers: May your weekend be one of enjoying the things in front of you, rather than worrying about what’s ahead.
And welcome back. I missed it here.