Worry

Note:  This writing did not originally have two parts.  I wrote what is now Part I, thinking it might just be for myself and I would not post it.  I have done this with a number of writings.  However, I kept thinking about how I was really going to have to dig down deep and keep trying to get back to the me that had some qualities that I don’t want to let go; that I want to last a lifetime.  I always say my mind it no different than an incubator.  It needs time to really mull things over.  And that process I found particularly helpful this time.  Thus, Part II.

Part I

Recently we had a small group discussion about worry.  Interesting.  I have to say I don’t really “worry” per se, leastwise, not as I perceive others do.  And this was pretty much true before Natalia died.  But if it had not been, I would hope that my worry habit/s would have been changed for good.   

It has been my observation that when people talk about their worries, they refer to things in the future, sometimes well into the future.  Things that might never happen and about which they can do nothing. 

If I actually “worry” about anything, it is about getting lazy.  Yes, you read it correctly.  I don’t want to get lazy and I worry that I am on my way to becoming an apt illustration of just that quality. 

I’ve never been lazy.  That is about the only thing I would say has been a definitive and consistent description of myself.  Now?  I seem to have no drive or self-discipline to fight against that laziness; the laziness that is trying to consume me and alter who I am.  It’s as if I have ingested something that is keeping me continually lethargic.  Thank goodness not yet continuously lethargic, but I feel like I’m only a step or two away from being at that stage.  (I couldn’t remember the difference between the two.  But I did remember one of the high school English teachers thinking it was an important matter.  So I did do what they always told us, “Look it up!”  Wiktionary is a good thing!). 

I have often enough asked Allan his opinion.  He answers, no; that he does not think I am getting lazy.  This morning he said I’ve had a lifetime of self-discipline; what does it matter?  But I don’t WANT  to be undisciplined and lazy.  Ever. 

Last year I started saying that I was 61, I could do what I wanted.  (That only gave my daughter Trista another phrase / perceived idiosyncrasy in her repertoire of “Mom” imitations.  She always contends that, were she a comedian, I alone would provide a career’s worth of material.  This clearly shows you what a smart alec she is.  She takes after her dad, by the way.)  I decided that approach was okay, and perhaps appropriate, at this point in life.  But, I am now truly concerned that I am getting into that “all or nothing” mode I find totally unhelpful and try to avoid in most all areas of life.  I don’t want to do what I don’t want to do.  Period.  And I don’t see how that can be okay!?

Back to the “worry” idea.  Worrying about my current lazy mode will not all of a sudden make me want to do what I don’t want to do.  If so, I’d go on a worry strike!  So, I’ll have to find a way to handle the situation, won’t I?  Oh, if I only felt like I could do that!  It doesn’t merely seem like a pretty big mountain to climb.  It feels like I’m supposed to be an experienced rock/cliff climber and I’m heading off to one of the toughest climbs I’ve ever tackled.  And I’m a 62 year-old, wimpy, non-athletic woman with a tear in her back.  Oh dear!

Part II

As I explained in the “Note” above, I kept pondering the dilemma about which I had written.  I went on that particular day to make myself do what I had to and ended up being fairly productive.  At some point in time I realized that maybe this could be a good thing.  Not necessarily for me, because of the real effort I will have to constantly put forth.  BUT, maybe, if I write about the struggle, it will be part of a legacy for Trista.  I do pray she won’t need it.  However, what if she goes through some other really difficult phase of life and I’m not here to help her through it?  Then, perhaps reading about my striving will be a help to her.   

I have a friend whose mother left her some stocks and bonds.  Everything was in a safety deposit box.  Her mother had left little notes attached to the various documents telling her daughter not to waste any of it; to use it wisely.  My friend appreciated those reminders from her mother.  It indicated that her mom had been thinking ahead and wanting to leave her something tangible, but also some advice to accompany the gift itself.  Touching and comical.  I liked just hearing the story. 

So what if a collection of writings about my (a parent’s) struggle could similarly represent both a tangible gift and ongoing encouragement?  A gift that would provide mental and emotional support?  Or cheer her on to have courage and confidence to face whatever she must?  Or give her hope and help her keep going?  Any possibility that I could do that for her would make the difficulty worth it.  I did not get the choice to trade places with Natalia, which I would gratefully have done for my child.  But I can choose this path.  I can choose to record my “fight”.   I can pray that written account never be needed.  But should it be, I can pray it be of great benefit. 

Super interesting, I think.  I don’t know if I can now say there is a purpose, such as that for which I have been searching.  I do know approaching the battle in this way feels like motivation.  And I know the beneficial qualities are circular in nature.  My efforts will be devoted to the benefit of my child.  But just the exerting of that effort circles back to me and I am a recipient of the very thing I most need, motivation.  The strongest and most powerful motivation, the deep desire to help your child.  Wow!  I’m thankful to be getting the encouragement I need for climbing that rock mountain that seems to go straight up.  There’s not only a strongly anchored rope in sight, but a harness uniquely designed for just such a person as I.  You, know, the wimp I described above.  I’m going to grab on, buckle the harness and start up.  Maybe I’ll from time to time give an update on that climb.  If so, I’ll do it with the idea that I have looked over and seen you also climbing your own rock mountain.  And I want some way to cheer you on; to remind you that, just by living, we are all rock climbing.  It really doesn’t matter the size of the mountain, the slope of the mountain, or whether the mountain provides natural footholds or is completely smooth.  Maybe yours is an easier climb than mine.  I hope it is.  But I still see that as completely irrelevant.  Because, either way, your mountain might still represent the most difficult climb you have had thus far on your life’s path.  And cheering you on is what I want to do.  Again, I don’t know if that is a true purpose or not.  I do know I will more than settle for doing just that; focusing on giving someone else that “hand up”.