Champion of Worry

Worry seems to be a popular topic for me.  I spent a good part of Saturday sitting in urgent care.  Lower abdominal pain and some distressing symptoms made a visit the logical choice.  Since I'm a champion worrier, this was like the Worry Olympics for me.  I think I took home the gold.  In any case, my worry fest is not yet over and I have some lovely tests to look forward to.

 I spent the remainder of Saturday in a panic, whirling in a worry tornado.  In addition to bridges, demonic stuff and clowns, I am also pathologically afraid of cancer.  Of course, no champion worrier worth their salt, avoids blaming themselves for causing the things that happen to them.  I was totally freaking myself out, albeit quietly.  No need to panic everyone else in a 1 mile radius.  At least one good thing about my quiet worry fest, I prayed a lot that day.  Turning to a higher power seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

I don't know if it was the praying or the fact that my champion worry skills allow me to accelerate the worry storm so that it passes quickly but by Sunday I was almost back to normal.  I still read the Sunday paper obituaries and noted the ages of the dead.  Three were only 55.  This seems to be the age of facing my own immortality so I've been rubbing my nose in it for the last few years. 

Actually, as I think of it now, my innate ability to worry, (Genetically, I come from a long line of champion female worriers.) is directly linked to the hyperactivity of my mind.  On one end of the spectrum lies intense worry.  At the other end, lies a deliciously, creative mind.  Some might call this mind a bit crazy. Of this, I will provide evidence. 

Yesterday evening, we played games together as a family.  (Yeah, quality time!)  During the course of a normal game, I blurt out what's rattling in my head.  First, I came up with two new wacky sports, underwater aerobic golfing and underwater roller derby.  After my amusement started to wane, I got carried away with my dislike of gnomes.  That, too, I found very amusing so I decided to link the two ideas and created an Underwater Gnome Dome for my new sports.  Maybe if I were writing a cartoon like SpongeBob, there would be some use for my ideas.  That's not the case.  These zany idea are almost useless except that they did a wonderful job distracting me and totally delighted my equally zany kids who often find me hilariously funny.  I can be, although my husband might not always agree.  Sometimes, he just finds me annoying.   Sometimes I am, but that's a topic for another day.

It would appear that my capacity for worry is inversely proportionate to my capacity to be zany.  I think I can live with this curse/gift until some natural occurrence takes me out of the game.  Since no one gets out of life alive and middle age is a minefield of potential death, it would seem infinitely wise to get used to the idea and learn to live with a little worry now and again.  But right now, I'm going to give my Underwater Gnome Dome some more thought.