Waves

My boyfriend tells me if worrying were an Olympic sport, I would have more gold than anyone. This is true;  however,  the things I worry about are irrational compared to the world around me. First World problems,  I guess.

Things that keep me up at night (in no particular order):

I wish my hair were longer.
I really need to be more financially responsible.
How much were those shoes I saw today at DSW?
I really should go to the gym tomorrow. This 15 lbs isn’t going to lose itself.
I wonder if I still have a piece of chocolate left?
I forgot to pack my lunch,  more money gone.
I need to budget for Lea’s birthday.
Justin wants a new hat.
I need to write more, watch tv less.
Read my new book. 
I wonder what John Grisham’s new book is about? 
Christmas is coming soon.
I need to get up in time to get coffee. And cook breakfast.
I need to fix my hair in the morning.
I wish I could find a really good conditioner.
Maybe I could get extensions? 

It took me so much longer to type that out, than to think it. I realize most of these are very trivial;  but, then there are nights where the big things hit, tears flow,  and I have a restless night when I finally do drift. Things like:

My granny and daddy have congestive heart failure.
What if my granny never meets my children? 
When something happens to her,  I don’t know how I will make it.
What if I don’t have kids?
What if I never get married?
Am I wasting time?  Valuable time?
Do I even want children?
What if my daddy isn’t there to give me away?
I miss my grandpa so much it physically hurts some days.
How does my mom do it all?
Is she disappointed in who I’ve become?
I know my sperm donor was disappointed in me for everything.
I have some of his characteristics. I hate it.
I wonder if we will ever speak again?
God knew what he was doing when he introduced my parents.
My daddy is a remarkable man.

I’ve almost cried typing it up. I guess I’m sharing this to lead up to a post I saw on Facebook today.

image

When I saw this I stopped breathing. I am an Olympic worrier, and I need to trust in God’s plan. Not my own. This is hard,  for a contol freak and  chronic worrier. So, for those who follow, read,  happen up on me and this blog, take a moment to reflect on the above image. Also a prayer or two wouldn’t be minded at all.

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