From the Heart
Several years ago a wise man gave me a bit of advice. “Church lady, if it won’t make a difference or be remembered in five years it’s not worth worrying about.”
Yes, it was my dear friend Jay, may he rest in peace, Snider.
He saw that I had control issues. It did not take special glasses to recognize that. It just took a caring friend.
The truth is, I still struggle with it.
I want to make everything okay, with everybody, every day. Try juggling all of that.
It’s just the way I am wired. I am chuckling as I see all these wires in my head looking like a jumbled bowl of spaghetti, in all sorts of colors.
Thoughts colliding with feelings, tossed and served with a side of anxiety.
What needs concerned about the most? Do I worry about this or do I worry about that?
What if this happens? I play out all kinds of scenarios in my head.
What can I do to make this better? Is what I do enough?
The people pleaser in me is thinking, what are they thinking? Do I measure up to their expectations? Who is holding the tape measure? What if their expectations of me are not met? What are their expectations? Are they realistic? If they aren’t what do I do about it?
Sometimes my head tells me, “Relax, you are doing the best that you can possibly do,” while my heart tells me, “You are never going to win the approval of some people.” And yet, I get on that emotional hamster wheel and keep it running.
Then I get off the hamster wheel and jump on the guilt train because I’ve failed someone, somehow.
It is exhausting. For some reason between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. that is my emotional alarm wake up time. I wrestle with thoughts as I wrestle with the covers and often end up on the sofa figuring out the priority of the worries of the day.
I know I am not alone. I have several friends who struggle with the spaghetti in their head.
I think as I’ve gotten older the spaghetti has increased in volume. My mind forgets about the five-year rule. I don’t think my heart will ever understand that rule.
Now I wonder just what that spaghetti will look like in five years? Oh well it’s time for bed. I’ll worry about it at 4 a.m.