Terminate

I used to worry when I wasn’t worried. Without worry on my mind, I thought I was being negligent, forgetful, or that I was guilty of slacking off.  Worry changed my life, but not for the better.

By the time I was fourteen, my relationship with Worry was established, reliable, constant and familiar. As a naive teen, Worry, like a drug, convinced me that without it, I’d never make it in life. So, I let it have its way with me because I thought it knew better than me. But, the more I let it have its way with me, the more it wanted from me. 

First of all, Worry was a tyrannical taskmaster. It made me work hard. Worry is not known for its kindness. Worry is not easily pleased. “The job is never done,” is one of its precepts. “There is always more to do,” is another one of its laws. Worry continually raised the bar, never allowing me to feel the sense of a job well done.  

Additionally, Worry demanded the impossible. “Always keep your ducks in a row.” Worry does not believe in taking vacations and makes you feel that if you are not hyper vigilant, then you turn into a loser. Worry always wanted me to think ahead, never allowing me to enjoy the moment. “You have to prepare for all the ‘what ifs’. You don’t want to be blind sided,” It told me. 

So I practiced predicting the words and behaviors of others, envisioning possible scenarios with them in order to always be prepared. Adding to that, I could never stop any projects until they were perfectly completed. It was an exhausting way to live. 

In addition to working overtime during the day, I also had to make room for Worry in my bed at night. Worry does not believe in giving anyone a good night’s rest and I’d often jolt awake, feeling an elbow in my ribs if I slept too soundly.  

After years with Worry, I grew tired of its ways. I wanted it to leave me alone. At first, I was nice about asking it to go away, but Worry does not respond to the soft touch. So I gave up being nice and instead began telling it to “shut up,” even though I was taught never to use those words. 

“I don’t know,” was something else I was told never to say but, when Worry badgered me about making sure I had things planned out for the day, I began replying with, “I don’t know how the day will unfold.” It felt good to be honest.  

But what really sealed the deal for me to terminate my relationship with Worry was the day I saw it carting off some of my joy, peace and patience.  

We had a confrontation. “How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

“Doing what?” It muttered.

“Taking my stuff.”

“Ever since you let me into your life.”

I was grateful for its honesty, but I told it, “It’s over. I’m done with you. I don’t want you in my life any longer. Get out of here.” 

Why Bother? 

Why bother terminating our relationship with Worry? Since I now know Worry’s true identity is that of a thief, and having given it the boot, I’ve gained back my joy, peace and patience. 

P.S.  I wrote the story of my journey to forgiveness for those who, like me, know they need to change, but are not quite sure where to start. You can find A Heart’s Journey To Forgiveness at Redemption Press and Amazon.