If there is nothing to worry about I'll dream up something. I'll drift further away from family, friends and the usual. I'll think about asteroids hitting the earth or the sun losing its heat. Yeah, really bad I am. I come by this honestly because my mother was a first class worrier when the three of us were little. She would have kept us all tied to the stove and thereby " safe" if she could have.
Just recently in our weekly chat, she was recounting how she worried so much about my brother having a bicycle and had said no he wasn't going to have one. Finally, my father put his foot down (not very hard being my father) and said every boy should have a bike...besides he'll just borrow his friend's if he doesn't have his own. So my brother got a bike and survived. But she had a laugh retelling this story which was so typical of her caution.
Daughter sent me this on Facebook one day because it is so me.
After talking about this in a post several years back, my sister sent me this book for Christmas, Worrying by Francis O'Gorman. Very interesting and who knew there is a history of worrying as a topic. I enjoyed reading it and not just because he says worry is the mark of higher intelligence, lol.
The futility of worry is familiar to me. It is such a waste of good energy.
The other thing is since retiring I've made my various hobbies into my "work" and sometimes let the same sense of urgency I applied to my workweek creep into my time. I've had to remind myself there is no timetable, no deadline, no one waiting on me for anything. Anything I engage in is all of my own choosing, the doing and finishing completely up to me.
In other words,
I can totally suit myself.
It struck me last week when I was fretting about how long a couple of my latest projects have been taking with the cross stitching and hand stitching. I realized really who cares. As long as I'm still pleased with them myself and enjoying the process. Who the heck cares. NOBODY
So my new mantra
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