Skip to main content

How many worries are in your worry queue?

I'm a worrier. My mother was a worrier. My kids are worriers. It's been going down the line. But the other day while riding in the car with my daughter, son-in-law and their kids some potentially worrisome topic came up and my daughter commented "I have too many other things to worry about. I don't have room for that one." And then my son-in-law said "Your worry queue is filled." An image immediately came into my head of a line-up of worries stepping into my head until my head was full and the rest of the queue simply had no room to enter. Like "queuing up" for a bus and the bus arrives but it's crowded and only a few people can squeeze in.

And I got to thinking that it would be quite a relief to turn my head into a mini-car rather than a bus. There would be so much less room for worries. And if ever there was a time, I thought, to limit the space in my head for worries it would be now. Worries take up too much space and I feel as I get older that I need that space for more productive thoughts. The way I see it, space is limited. You give too much of it to worries you simply limit the space for anything else.

No one is worry-free. Nor do I think we should be. But I do believe that idle worries are a waste of precious time. I want to try to keep my worry queue limited to worries that I can do something about. I want my worries to lead to actions that will resolve the worries. I want those worries that will get me nowhere and simply take up space to get off the queue altogether. Go queue up on some other line.

I'm trading in my bus for a Mini Cooper. Anyone care to join me???


Popular posts from this blog

My friend asked me to pose nude for her...

The other day C. called. She has always been an avid photographer and she's really good. I have one of her photos on my wall. Anyway, she told me she was going off for a weekend course in how to photograph people in the nude. Older people. In particular, older women. I waited. I didn't have to wait long. I had my "no" at the ready. When she did ask me if I would pose for her I thought it would be rude to just say "no." What I did say was that the day I can get dressed facing the mirror rather than with my back to it, I would consider it. Notice, I was careful not to say anything definitive. Here's the thing. Like plenty of you out there I have a hang-up about my body. It's not a bad body, especially given that it's an older body. And I'm not going to list the various parts of my body that I particularly have a hang-up about because...well, it would be a long, boring and familiar list. But I really wanted to show my support for C.'s

Thank God you can pick your friends!

My husband and I are about to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of very special friends. We met Ted and Deanna 36 years ago and we've stayed strongly connected through a number of moves (ours not theirs), illnesses, life's many ups and downs. We've shared sad times and joyous times. We've traveled together, spent wonderful visits at each others' homes. I'm sure we must have shared thousands of meals together. Thousands of laughs. They've always, ALWAYS been there for us and we have always tried to be there for them. History. We have a deep and meaningful shared history. J. and I are  truly blessed to have a wonderful group of close friends and we value them all. But there are very few couples I've known and loved longer than this very special couple. You can't pick your blood relatives but thank God you can pick your friends. From the very first time we all met, J and I picked them. We were couples with young families. We were in the first dec

You can take the girl out of The Bronx, but...

Well, you know the rest. I have to confess for a long time I really tried to get rid of The Bronx. For a long time after that I thought I had. And for a long time I felt good about it. I'd escaped. No one could tell by my speech, my look, my style, etc. I used to love to hear, "You're from The Bronx? I'd never have guessed." And it's more than that. It's escaping a past that didn't fit in with my fantasy of who I wanted to become, who I wanted to be. It was an escape from a certain social class, an escape from parents whose customs, manners, interests felt alien to me - or maybe the truth was I wanted them to feel alien to me. I wanted to be my own creation!  But deep down I knew the truth. I knew it and it bothered me. I felt like there was really no escape. Not from The Bronx. Not from the lower income class that shaped me. Not from a mother who loved a bargain more than almost anything. And it bothered me. But lately something has changed. It&