My partner and I are gearing up for our first vacation in two decades, and while most people would be thrilled, I find myself battling a whirlwind of anxiety. My thoughts are racing as I mentally compile a list of potential disasters, ranging from minor inconveniences to catastrophic scenarios. This is the reality of being a chronic worrier.
With our flight just two days away, others may be counting down the hours with excitement, but for me, it’s a countdown filled with dread. Those 48 hours are a window for everything that could possibly go wrong.
As I jot down my packing list, my mind spirals into a frenzy. I recall a news segment about the flu season intensifying and wonder if I sanitized my hands after my last gym visit. Did I thoroughly clean the shopping cart during my last grocery run? What if we catch something right before our trip? My children are exposed to so many germs at school—could they get sick? I can handle a cold, but a stomach bug? We have nonrefundable tickets, so there’s no backing out, but how could I leave my mom to manage a house full of sick kids?
Speaking of my mom, she’s agreed to take care of our four children for an entire week. Despite her decades of experience in parenting and the fact that she’s never set the house ablaze, my anxious mind doesn’t let me rest. Sure, she’s raised us well, but she’s also transitioning into her “cat-lady and book-club” phase. Will she have enough energy to keep up with them? What if they don’t listen to her? Have I prepared enough meals in advance?
Then, my thoughts take a dramatic turn. I worry not just about my mom managing the kids, but what if something were to happen to my husband and me during the flight? What if we don’t make it back, and my mom has to step in as their guardian? This thought spirals into an overwhelming fear of missing out on my children’s lives—all because we wanted a brief escape. I can’t help but wonder if our affairs are in order. Do we have adequate life insurance to support their future aspirations, from college tuition to those pricey basketball shoes?
I imagine my luggage tags floating in the ocean as the last remnants of my existence, while my children struggle through life, becoming lost souls due to their parents’ untimely departure. I even envision family members sifting through my belongings and discovering my personal items, sending me into a cold sweat.
I know deep down that most of these scenarios are highly unlikely. Yet, my mind insists on reminding me that the last victims of a plane crash likely never believed it could happen to them. Somehow, I convince myself that if I fret over every possible outcome, I’ll be better prepared to face it. It’s like my own twisted form of insurance.
I recognize that this incessant worrying doesn’t make life easier; in fact, it adds unnecessary stress. I could develop ulcers or even heart issues from all this anxiety! Yet, the worry persists.
Living with this overactive mind is exhausting. It forces me to navigate life under a constant cloud of imagined threats. It’s a perpetual state of fight or flight. Often, these thoughts keep me awake at night, as my mind tends to run wild when the world is quiet. I’ve grown used to this way of living, much like one becomes accustomed to enduring discomfort. But I can’t help but wonder how much better life could be if I sought help. I plan to look for a therapist once we return from vacation, assuming our flight remains uneventful.
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In summary, living with a constantly anxious mind is a daunting experience. It can transform everyday moments into a series of what-ifs, making it hard to truly enjoy life. By acknowledging these fears and considering seeking help, there may be hope for a more peaceful existence.