Worry Wart

I wouldn’t claim that I am a worrier, but I worry that I may be.

I fidget about timing a lot, should I get up an exercise before I go to work, or after I get home? I get my panties in a ruffle if drinking a bottle of wine a week by myself constitutes a prelude to some looming dependency. When witnessing a coworker toss a pop can in the trash, I imagine it wasting in a dumpster somewhere for thousands of years, right next to some outdate electronic game system, where they seep their chemicals into our ground water (Green Guilt Blows!).

A colleague said that “anxiety is the plague of the enlightened,” and for once I bite my lip, preventing a crack regarding the arrogance of such a statement. He graciously went onto say something like remaining peaceful, but being aware, is the key to a contended life.

Sign me up for whatever Buddist camp, you attended buddy. Sounds simple, right? Aware. I choose peace. I am peace. I own peace. Peace is my bitch.

Worry comes from an Old English word that means “to strangle” and ties back to the impulsive behavior of nervous wolves and dogs. Ugghhh…it takes the breath, the life source, directly out of the spirit. Religious scriptures warn that worry-ing is evil. Doctors assert that a worrier’s heart dangerously perches on bursting from high pressure. Old and new philsophers, like Eckhart Tolle, persist that worry strangles your ability to fully enjoy the present moment. and is a waste of precious nonexistent time…

The psychological authorities of worry note that one “should not worry alone,” supposing that sharing our worries with one another will help us come up to “creative solutions to them.” Hmmm…while it is always good to not feel like you are facing a challenge alone, I think it’s a little egotistical to be sharing my tiny worries with you (do you really care if I eat cabbage tofu stew or garlic shrimp?) In fact, the term worry wart comes from a character in a 1950s comic strip Out Our Way. Ironically, the character wasn’t the one who worried. He was actually ignorant of his problems, although he had many. No, the worriers were the people around him, perpetually up in arms over his tribulations…

So I worry that I shouldn’t burden you with these little thoughts. But an author, Tom Peters, The Pursuit of Wow, wrote that:

No, you don’t want to get a reputation as a prissy worrywart, but worrying
about details in private isn’t a bad idea at all. Truth is, process beats
substance. You may think you’re the world’s greatest speaker with a message of
the utmost urgency, but if the auditorium’s air conditioner is on the
fritz and the sound system is singing static — well, forget it.
Excuse me…I need to figure out if I should pack my fleece or a heftier winter coat. I am worried about the upcoming weather…

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