Anxious mutters

There was a huge chaotic bustle trying to get Kiki and Link out the door. They were being taken to The Stadium of Fire by my Dad. After the chaos of shoes and jackets and directions, they finally piled into my van and drove off. I turned from the window and asked Howard if it was silly of me to be anxious. He said it wasn’t, but I still felt silly. Logically I knew that they would get there fine, find parking, have a great time, and come home safely despite horrendous traffic. But I worried. I worried about each of those steps. I worried that Link would be frightened by something and I wouldn’t be there to talk him through it. I worried about even more unlikely things. But the potential good from the experience far outweighed the unpleasantness of my anxiety.

I sat in the kitchen and sorted through my anxious thoughts. I addressed them individually with logic and stowed them away. Under all the layers it came down to the fact that sending my children off to a major public event with my father isn’t something I’ve ever done before. The very newness of the event made it outside my comfort zone. It is hard to let go and let the kids fly, even when they’re ready. The anxiety sort took me about 20 minutes. Then with all the anxious thoughts tucked safely away, I proceeded to have fun lighting off small fireworks with Howard, Gleek, Patches, my mother, and some neighbors. We had a good time. Kiki, Link, and my dad had a good time. All was well and none of my worries came to pass.

It seems like I have to go through this kind of process frequently. I come from a long line of worriers. They seem to have bequeathed to me a voice which mutters darkly about all the worst possible scenarios. That mutter can be nerve wracking. The only solution I’ve found is to yank the voice out into the light and to require it to speak to me clearly. The articulated worries often become obviously ridiculous. Then I can dismiss them. If I can’t dismiss the worry outright, I can still create an action plan based on the possibility. Then I file the worry and action plan where they’ll be ready if I need them, but where they don’t have to clutter my conscious mind.

My brain is as noisy and chaotic as my house and in as much need of decluttering.