Woe is Me

I’ll be the first to admit it it.  I am a worrier. 

And I worry most especially about those for whom I care deeply.  But sometimes, I worry about people I don’t even know.  Like the elderly woman at Goodwill yesterday, who was unjustly reprimanded by an insensitive and overly zealous clerk for taking her cart into the dressing room area and then having more than three items to try on.  (Seriously?)   I, in fact, anguished about that woman the rest of the afternoon, hoping her feelings had not been too hurt, or her day completely ruined, by the experience.  (Mine probably would have been.)

Of course I worry about Amy.   And as the time of her leaving nears, I expect to worry a lot more.  I can’t help it.  Will she get enough sleep?  Get along with her roommate?  End up with pneumonia (again?)  That sort of thing.

If only I could be assured that in the end, life, weighed in the balance, would be found to be more kind than not, I could stop.  Most importantly, that nothing so terrible as to hurt or jade my impossibly beautiful and tender-hearted daughter would ever happen. Then I’d stop worrying. 

But for now, I simply am not equipped with an off switch.

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8 thoughts on “Woe is Me

  1. Oh Valeria I worry about my girls to this day and I understand with Amy away all that runs through your head. She is going to do fine just like my girls did just like you did when someone was worrying about you . Getting to be an adult is harder on the Mom’s than the kids I think.
    That is very sad about that older lady that would upset me too. Take care and try not to worry you will end up with white hair like me. 🙂 Hug B

  2. I am worrier. It’s part of my chemical make up. And like you, I worry about other people, that woman would have stayed with me all day too.

    I understand that kind of urgency.

  3. I loved how you ended this post about the “off switch.” That’s exactly how I feel. I don’t call myself a worrier anymore though, even if I am. I decided I needed a replacement word, which I found in “fret.” For me, it’s more fun to say “I’m a fretter” or “I fret a lot.” :~)

    Kids always take up a lot of fretting time. There’s no escaping it. Of course, eventually you get old enough, like me, that your kids start fretting about you!

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