[ Gorgeous photo by Pablo Hermoso Guerrero. ]
I know the feeling.
BELIEVE ME.
I am a chronic worrylady. I am a worry machine. A worry factory.
Further, I come from a proud, paralyzed, whole FAMILY of worriers!
My mother worries. My father worries. Their cocker spaniels worry.
(Actually, false. They are happy-go-lucky little fluffballs. Foils to the default.)
But here’s the thing. Three, in fact. Repeat them to yourself, the way I do.
1. It’s not helpful.
Picture someone cooking.
They’re running around the kitchen, trying to get a meal together. They are in progress, whirling, collecting ingredients, taking steps in sequence, making sure that everything is done the way it’s supposed to be. (Or… close enough, if it’s me who’s cooking. Let’s be honest.)
Now picture a needy dog.
Following that person back and forth, weaving around their legs, begging for scraps, yelping pitifully when the person inevitably steps on their paw.
Worry can be like that sometimes.
You’ll be doing all right, getting into a groove, starting to make progress…and you’ll get tripped up in your own thoughts — sidetracked, and left feeling bad about even the few steps that you’re taking toward getting something done.
And hey, I like dogs!
(See previous blog post, with handsome old pupper at the end.)
Does that mean that I let my dog hang out in the kitchen when we’re in the middle of cooking? Nope. Sorry bud, it’s for the best that you stay OUT of the way when we need to be running around and getting stuff done. It’s not his fault, he’s just not the helpful hand that we need when we’re making food.
When you feel worry creeping in, picture it as a goofy little well-meaning dog.
Say to it, “No, not now. You are not helpful now. Good dog. Go lie down.”
If at all possible, wait until AFTER you’ve gone and done the thing, and then allow yourself to worry, if you still feel the need to do so.
Put some baby gates up in the rooms of your mind.
And I know, it’s hard to do that. Hence:
2. Action is the enemy of worry.
The enemy of doing things…is not doing things.
I do not care WHAT it is, do something. Get working toward your goal.
The more time and energy you spend wondering about the exact right way to do whatever-it-is that you want to do, the longer you are leaving the barn door wide open to the worry-wolf.
If you’re really petrified about making a misstep, take comfort in the fact that even failure is an opportunity. As you learn what does not work, you learn what not to do in the future.
Have you ever heard that great old Samuel Beckett quote?
