My Anywhere But Here Blog

Worrying

My brother used to say to us years ago, “You’re going to die if you worry, and you’re going to die if you don’t worry — so why worry?”

Yet that always seemed much easier said than done, especially in times like these, when so much in life feels uncertain — myself included.

How do we learn to let go of the stresses that come with the unknown and stop worrying about what is fully out of our control?

Today I had a doctor’s appointment. Yesterday, I mentioned to my elderly mother that I might find myself being told, “Go home and pack a duffel — on Tuesday you’re going into the hospital for tests.” I had been having a few concerning issues that raised my anxiety to just below panic level. By telling others, I suppose I felt that at least they were on alert — that maybe my worries would be validated, that I wasn’t wrong to feel so worked up.

I thought that by sharing my concerns, it might quiet the voices in my head — the ones whispering, Oh no… this is something worrisome, and you need to exhaust all your energy on it, because something really bad could be coming into your life tomorrow.

Those voices tend to appear whenever I allow worry to take hold.

Last night, when I left my mother’s home to go back to mine and attempt some sleep — minus a restless night of worrying about today — I closed her door and said, “My appointment is at noon. I’ll see you afterward, I hope.”

She replied, “Please, please let me know where you will be.”

“Of course, Mom,” I said.

When I got home, I crawled into bed. As someone who holds spiritual beliefs, I closed my day in quiet reflection, hoping that when morning arrived, my issues would have lessened and my soul would feel more at ease. Of course, being human, when I woke this morning my concerns were still at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about the what ifs.

What if I do go to the hospital?

How will my family handle it — my mother particularly?

And the biggest what if of all: what if this is far more serious than I even had an inkling of?

All morning, until my appointment, my mind could not wander far from worry. My blood pressure rose, my stomach tightened into knots, and I felt completely on edge.

Was it beneficial to spend that entire time worrying about something I had absolutely no control over until I heard the news?

Not one bit.

When I walked back into my mother’s home later, she looked at me wide-eyed and said, “Oh my, I have been worried sick about you. I’m so glad to see you walking through the door. I couldn’t even take my nap because you kept me up — wondering if you were going to the hospital. I can’t manage without you.”

And there we both were — exhausted by something that had not even happened.

In that moment, I realized something.

My worry had not stayed neatly inside my own mind. It had traveled. It had taken up space in hers as well.

I told her I had some good news to share and that we should just relax. As we sat there together, I could feel the room slowly soften. The tension eased. The air felt lighter.

So today I ask myself, what did all that worrying truly give me?

It did not change the outcome.

It did not soften the news.

It did not prepare my heart any more than quiet reflection already had.

What it did do was rob us — both of us — of hours we could have spent in peace.

Worry has a way of convincing us that if we think about something long enough, we somehow gain control over it. But the truth is, control was never really ours to begin with. We are only ever given this moment — this breath — this day.

Perhaps my brother was right all those years ago.

We are going to walk through life’s uncertainties whether we worry or not.

So why spend the precious in-between weighed down by what has not yet come?

Tonight, I choose to loosen my grip on worry just a little more.

To breathe a little deeper.

To trust life a little more gently.

And to remind myself that peace does not come from having every answer — it comes from allowing ourselves to rest in the unknown without fear.

Why die worrying…

when we can choose, instead, to live with a lighter heart.