I'm certainly a worrier to the point that I wonder if I'm neurotic sometimes. I seem to worry on a regular basis about all sorts of things that I shouldn't even be thinking about for long stretches of time. I worry about my son....will he have a safe day, a good day, is he content, does he enjoy his life, will he get hurt at practice, is he eating enough or too much, does he get enough exercise, is he a bully or is he being bullied, does he really think I'm a good mom...the list goes on and on.
But wait, that's not all! I also worry about my thoughts, my dreams that I keep to myself because they don't fit with the life I've created, the chores I haven't completed, if I have bad breath, how my body changes as I age, if my sister thinks I'm cool, if my son thinks I'm cool, if my mom thinks I'm a good daughter, am I a good wife, am I the best mom I can be, do I have food in my teeth or enough lipstick on, are my pantie lines visible, are my teeth white enough, how much will I shrink in old age (because I really can't afford to lose much height), that I need to work out more, give back to the community, pray more, listen better.... Ok, I'll shut up now.
Why do I do this to myself? I have to correct myself mentally all the time when I find obsessive thoughts invading my head. I have to tell myself that I'm thinking irrationally and to move on to better things. Are other people this way? I remember hearing from several parents over the years that something happens to you when you become a parent; that worry takes over in all kinds of ways. Is that when my thoughts changed, when I became a parent? I don't remember being this crazy when I was pre-maternal. Maybe I was crazy but I just thought that I was cool and whatever I thought up was brilliant. Who knows....
I do know that it seems to be getting worse as I age. When I was in my twenties I thought that when I turned thirty that this wealth of wisdom would fall from the sky and I would feel so calm and knowledgeable about so many things. Well, that was a few years ago and I'm getting more neurotic and vain as the years tick by. I guess I'll try to focus on the rumor that when a woman enters her forties she becomes carefree and comfortable in her own skin. Ok. I'm counting on this to take place. I'm going to see if I can make it happen sooner than when I turn forty. The thought of having to worry about my worries for another six years just might push me over the edge for good!
