Worry Is Like A Rocking Chair

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It's nothing major.

I haven't had to visit the local food pantry since November.

My rent, utilities and student loan payments are current.

I have a job.

Cam and I are both healthy.

In the grand scheme of things, I have no room to complain. None. I know that, and knowing that evokes waves of guilt.

I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread.

One paycheck. Hell, two unpaid sick days, and it will all collapse. A minor car repair will send me into financial crisis. Summer camp registration is looming and resources are slim.

I am tired. Tired of living life this way - the threat of ONE.MORE.THING crumbling the house of cards. The anxiety - the constant worry - I'm not as good at hiding it as I once was.

Cam said to me the other night, "Mom, you always think of the absolute worst outcome, even when there is no probability it will happen!" He's right. I do.

I do this because I've convinced myself that somehow, if I can just predict the worse possible outcome, and then it should happen, it won't catch me off guard. I'll be able to handle it because the element of surprise will be eliminated.

If it doesn't happen? Well? Then I'll be pleasantly surprised and even if the outcome is undesirable, it won't be as bad as it could have been. Viola! It's a win either way.

Of course, spending all of this time "preparing" myself for Cam's cab to crash on the way to school, for my employer to fire me for one too many mistakes, for a direct deposit not to hit my account on time ... all of this "preparing"? It keeps my brain from doing what it needs to do. I am constantly distracted - when driving, when working, when walking through the grocery store.

"Just stop it" doesn't work. I cannot (if you prefer, will not, since everything is under my control, right?) just stop. Trying to stop gets me right back to that place that evokes those waves of guilt.

I should be strong.

I should be grateful.

I shouldn't worry.

I think I'm ready to admit that maybe this is bigger than me and the fifth of vodka that has become my constant companion.

~*~*~

What? Me Worry

~*~*~

Life is funny sometimes, giving you what you need to hear when you need to hear it.

Just last week I was talking about worry - how much I worry - the ridiculous life changing things I worry about.

Then down from the cyber heavens an NPR article, 5 Worries Parents Should Drop And 5 They Shouldn't, lands in my lap. Considering it's been quite some time since anything landed in my lap, I got a little excited.

According to the article, most parents are worrying about all the wrong things.

Based on surveys Christie Barnes, mother of four and author of The Paranoid Parents Guide, collected, the top five worries of parents are, in order:

1. Kidnapping
2. School snipers
3. Terrorists
4. Dangerous strangers
5. Drugs

But how do children really get hurt or killed?

1. Car accidents
2. Homicide (usually committed by a person who knows the child, not a stranger)
3. Abuse
4. Suicide
5. Drowning

Barnes insists that it would be easier on parents if, "every news story came with a little warning at the bottom that said, 'Even though this is very tragic, this is 1 in 10 million, 1 in a million or 1 in 20'. "

Damn media! You mean they sensationalize things??

This unnecessary worrying, Barnes argues, is detrimental to parents, causing health issues and negatively impacting parent relationships with other adults. Not only that but focusing on rare dangers distracts parents from the dangers that matter. *gasp*

Now, I do take issue with one of the items that didn't make the real list - drugs (and alcohol). I think it's likely that the survey data was from parents of the under 10 crowd ... because we know I would never worry about some psycho picking up my 14-year old son, in a van, on the first day of school and taking him to parts unknown ... but I do have concerns about drugs and alcohol.

What does Barnes suggest. She says that according to her research, making kids wear protective gear and buckle up in the car cuts kids' chances of death by 90 percent and their chances of serious injury by 78 percent.

Hmmmm ... I think I'll go out and stock up on duct tape and bubble wrap so that I can focus my worries on homicide and suicide ...

~*~*~

Worry Wart

~*~*~

Back to school ...

Major calendar events like the first day back to school afford the opportunity to reflect - to analyze success or failure of the previous time period - like summer break.

I was dreading Cam's unsupervised time this summer. The events of last summer were still vivid memories. Fortunately, the combination of two weeks of camps, vacationing with a friend for a week, an XBox 360 in the house, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of maturing over the past year,kept Cam out of trouble. In fact, I'd even say he had a very successful summer.

Summer anxiety has now been replaced by school anxiety.

I continually remind myself that I have done a "decent" job of giving Cam the skills he needs to make good choices, while remembering that making choices for him gives him little opportunity to refine those skills. It's difficult to allow Cam the freedom to make bad choices, but I know he needs to feel their wrath, to see what doesn't work, so that he can know better and do better the next time. Cam's return to school - a school he will remain at until he navigates the path of good choices - brings a new set of challenges my way.

Cam's school performance these first two days has been less than "stellar" (I hate that word). How do I know? Well, every day Cam is given a Parent/Teacher Communication Form outlining his day - both positive and negative behavior, effort and academics. Yes, it reeks of the communications used in daycare centers for babies and toddlers, and Cam hates that I know this much about his day, but it holds him accountable and keeps me in the loop. Both good things.

But I worry ... boy do I worry! I worry that Cam is not grasping this school placement as an opportunity to succeed. I worry that Cam will never take his education seriously. I worry that the teachers and the staff at the therapeutic day school will tire of Cam, feeding his distorted expectations of adults in his life (they always give up on him). I worry that Cam's performance and behavior in school negatively reflects on my parenting. I worry that I don't know as much as I think I know about his challenges and what he needs to be successful. I worry that a day will come when I have no longer have the "strength" to keep trudging through the muck.

I worry ... boy do I worry ...

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