For someone who hates to waste time as much as I do, I sure do spend a great many hours worrying. It would be quite easy to blame this absolutely useless habit on my mother (aka The Intergalactic Queen of Fretonia), but I’m past the age of 25 and no longer entitled to attribute my poor habits to parental influence.
I’ve learned to do a fairly good job of hiding my worry, but I confess that I worry about everything. My job involves—nay, requires—that I worry about a great many things: did the students all submit their applications on time? did the students meet all the requirements for student teaching? did I order all the transcripts I need? did the corporation office receive the student teaching applications that I sent them? did all the necessary parties sign the student teaching agreements in all the right places? did the students complete all the necessary paperwork for the school corporation where they’re student teaching? The litany of worries does not end.
Despite my skill in masking my worry, I do indeed worry about everything. No concern transcends my worry—no potentiality is too great or too insignificant to escape my mental preoccupation: will I be able to wake up early enough tomorrow to make it to the gym? will I have enough money in my savings account to for the next über-expensive car repair that I know is lurking around the corner just waiting to foil my holiday plans or my secret desire to finally buy myself a laptop computer? will I be able to complete my revisions in time to submit this article for publication? will I have enough milk left for my coffee in the morning? will the hot guy get voted off Survivor this week? will I have enough time in my life to read all the books and watch all the movies and TV series that I want to?
OK—you get the picture. So here’s my strategy—in order to become the (Relatively) Worry-Free Me I Could Be, I am going to attempt to divide and conquer my worry. First division: worries about what other people can/should/did do vs. worries about what I can/should/will do. Once I cudgel my brains enough to convince myself that there is absolutely nothing I can do to control what others will do (free will is more than just a philosophical construct), I will have sliced my worries in half. Then I can devise some way to divide the remaining worries. I’ll keep you posted.
My worry hamsters usually attack at night, just before I go to sleep. My weapons of choice are a notebook and pen. I list all my worries or things I have to do and then sleep like a baby. Try it.
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