Fretting

I’ve been thinking a lot about fear and worry these last few weeks for a variety of reasons.

I’m generally thinking about them at 2:20 in the morning. 😉

My dad was a worrier. So much fear and worry. Some justified, some not.

As I’ve grown older, and the longer Dad has been gone, the less judgement I feel and more understanding.

Worry is a way to feel in control. It’s a maladaptive way; but it is about control.

Dad, unconsciously, thought if he did all the worrying, he could think of every possible horrible outcome of each fearful scenario for all the people he loved. Once he had thought of all those terrifying outcomes, he would worry about them. If he worried about them, and thought about them, he could somehow protect us from them.

It may not be logical to you, but I understand.

If I can think of each item that could go wrong, the ones I can actually impact I can try to prevent.

Life doesn’t really work that way and there is so much out of our control that worrying about things really does absolutely nothing. Other than take up space in my brain and cause me emotional labor that could just as easily be spent feeling joyful. It takes me away from this moment.

Ahhh, and there’s the rub.

Another leftover from Dad.

Feeling too much joy might somehow anger the universe. Rejoice with exuberance and something bad will surely follow.

The goal is to never soar too high, hoping to stave off having to feel too much of a low.

I’m trying to not live a life of fear. A life with joy and sunshine and then when the rain and sleet show up, the emotional reserves are so vast, the stormy weather can pass through causing little harm.

And yet, there’s something satisfying about the worry.

It feels so good when it goes away.

When the burden is lifted and you realize how anxious and fraught you’d been feeling, that feels so light and lovely.

“Why are you hitting yourself?”

“Because it feels so good when I stop.”

It happens with depression, too.

I know doing a workout would make me feel better, but I don’t deserve to feel better today.

The cycle seems simple and the exit sign clearly marked, but it can be endless.

I wasn’t mature and empathetic enough to help Dad carry his burden.

Admonishments of, “You worry too much.” and, “Stop worrying about it.” are not just useless, they are quelling. He told me more than once how afraid he was and how dark and long the nights were. I was so wrapped up in my own life and sunshine I could only hug him and tell him it would be okay.

Now I would know to sit by his side for awhile and let him feel heard. Go for a ride together as a distraction, even if it only worked for awhile. Share his load with love and kindness. (We did suggest counseling or prescription options to help deal with what was likely long-term depression, but he was of an age where that wasn’t an option he even knew how to consider.)

I didn’t do any of the helpful things. I know better now.

I am trying to learn from his lesson. Learn to listen to my own heart and those of loved ones who share their fears with me, but not letting the fear set up a tent in my brain and get comfy.

So it’s working out the way he hoped. He’s keeping me safe and making me feel loved though his days of worrying over me are long gone.

I dug up some photos of him during light-hearted times as a reminder of the sunshine days he did have.

Letting go of fear and worry seems impossible, but to honor Dad’s legacy, to honor what he truly would have wished for those he loved, it’s worth trying.