A day late and a dollar short

I worry a lot. I will overthink every situation that comes my way. As an example, if I think I have said something that may have offended one of my good friends, I will stress about it for hours, days, even weeks maybe. Then, the next time I talk to my friend, I will bring it up, only to find out they have no idea what I’m talking about. Part of my “life after cancer” is to learn how not to worry quite so much, since I’m convinced that over worrying may have led to this whole situation to begin with. My dad doesn’t worry about many things at all. My mother usually worries double for him. I obviously inherited it from her side of the family.

I’ve decided it must be a control thing. I worry about the things I cannot control. I can be somewhat of a perfectionist, and no, it’s not a good thing all the time. It serves its purpose when it comes to certain tasks. But it carries over into other aspects of my life where it has no real purpose, and becomes more of a hindrance than an attribute. My friends are aware of my neuroticisms. They love me anyway. It’s not that I’m bossy, it’s more like, I know what needs to be done, and how, and I know it will be done right. In fact, I’m reciting the serenity prayer right now, in an effort to let it all go. Because, guess what... I’m again worrying about something that is beyond my control and I know it. At least I can now recognize the signs. They say acknowledgement is the first step to recovery.
I’m working on it. Sometimes it sneaks up on me though, and I find myself fretting over something I can’t really do much about, like earlier today. Part of my conscious effort is to try to imagine the worse case scenario and how it might play out. It seems to be helping. So far, no worlds have exploded regardless of the outcome. But old habits die hard.

I cry more these days than I recall ever having done in my past adult life. I laugh a lot harder when I laugh though too, I think. I embrace them both. Hell, just yesterday, I started crying in my doctor’s office while talking about my pain. Not like snotty nose, boo-hooing, but more like as-I’m-talking-tears-start-coming-and-I-can’t-seem-to-stop-them kind of way, with no apparent reason. And just a minute ago I busted out laughing rather loudly while sitting in the hospital waiting room and didn’t care. I’m just more emotional these days, and it doesn’t take much to set me off one way or the other. I can cry and laugh within the same thirty minute time frame, and often do. And just because I’m crying (or laughing) doesn’t mean I’m sad (or happy). But more like, I seem to feel every emotion I go through in a day’s time more deeply, and I don’t consider that a negative. I guess it’s all a part of Jennifer’s home therapy. Because a portion of that therapy is embracing who I am. The core of me. The good, the bad and the slightly neurotic. And being more aware of each moment as it’s happening. It’s never too late to change the parts of you that need improving. It’s also never too late to accept who you are fundamentally and embrace those quirks that make you so damn, well, you.