When I was in the fourth grade, the teacher took me aside and told me I didn’t have to do homework anymore.
Sensing I was a worrier, and that homework stressed me out, she thought she’d put an end to the whole thing. “If you feel like it, do some homework. If you don’t, no problem. Don’t worry about it either way.”
Ha. Instead of taking this as a strange but miraculous gift from the heaven’s (as would any normal kid), I took this as yet one more thing to worry about. Why was I a worrier? Was it bad to worry? Were my parents worried about my worrying, and if so, how would I solve this problem? You get the picture.
It’s been almost 20 years, and not much has changed yet. I worry about the small, insignificant things. I worry about emails for days after they’ve been sent. I worry about word choice and tone. I worry that I’ve worried others by venting about my worries – and promptly call to tell them not to waste time worrying about me (oh, the irony).
And, naturally, I worry about my work. Not in a normal “Gee, I hope my boss liked my project, let’s go for a drink, shall we?” kinda’ way. In a “Gee, I hope that went okay. What if it didn’t? What if it went terribly wrong and I won’t know until tomorrow? What if I’ve single handedly destroyed the organization? What if people lose their jobs, and then their homes, and then their children are homeless?” kinda’ way.
Again, you get the picture. PS I know what you’re thinking – no, I am in no way important enough on the scale of life for all of that to happen so quickly (but as I type this, I worry that I’m jinxing myself and maybe am on some level capable of causing a disaster of that magnitude).
So tonight I asked my husband a key question: can a person care too much?
He was thoughtful about it, really mulled it over for a few minutes before he answered. “Well you care – sure. But if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be you, and that’s one of your best parts.” (ah yes, bonus points, but that’s a whole other post in itself).
With that in mind, we’ve spent the last 45 minutes brainstorming little ways I can care, but stop myself from snowballing my cares into worrisome cycles that turn into snowballs that eventually implode (usually while I’m on the train). He had some good ideas and I calmly jotted them down, worrying that if I didn’t, I’d forget them and be left helpless the next time I start to worry.
All that to say – yes, I worry too much. And yes, it has to do with me caring - maybe a little too much. But I can’t be the only person on the planet who feels this way. And that means you must have ideas for how to tone it down, too.
So please fill me in. How do you care, without caring too much? Me – and likely my fourth grade teacher - are desperate to know.
