Welcoming Worry

Am I going a little crazy? Maybe. Maybe not. As a lifelong worrier, I’ve fought hard to avoid worrying. And I’ve tried many anti-worry methods: aerobics, meditation, jazzercise, yoga, chocolate and binge watching on Netflix.

Many of the methods were healthful and helpful. And what’s not to like about chocolate and binge watching, “Bones”.  But none of them made the worry go away for good. 

Maybe it’s in my genes or jeans?

As a child my great Aunt Mae told me, “Susan, don’t worry about worrying. You come from a long line of worriers.” I didn’t understand her then but I do now. 

First off, worrying about worrying is definitely not helpful. It’s like a dog chasing its tail. And while the spinning might give you a little exercise, it also keeps the worry circuit fully charged. That said, I’ve spent quite a few hours chasing my worries anyway, perhaps hoping the exercise would help my jeans fit better. 

What’s there to worry about anyway? Really?

The world ending tomorrow? Trump getting re-elected? A plane crashing into my house? Falling meteors? A chocolate shortage? Ok, I know some of these are silly. 

But we all have worries that are very real to us. From birth to death, we work to survive. And with all that work comes success and failure. And the worry follows. I worried I wouldn’t graduate. Or find a job. Or an apartment. Or a boyfriend. Or a home. Or have healthy babies. 

Remembering my worries now about my sweet, small babies, I smile. Both of my babies were considered ‘small’. I fed them and changed them and rocked them all the while worrying constantly. Were they eating enough. Would they gain enough weight. Would the grow up and be good, strong people. 

Now 30 years later, I see my ‘small’ babies are strong, healthy, beautiful adults. They are fine. They are talented. They are working. Now they have babies of their own. And, you guessed it, they worry. 

They worry their babies are too small. That they aren’t growing and learning and eating well enough. That they’ll never learn to sleep through the night. Will they grow up to be good, strong people?

Worry was not what I really wanted to pass on to them  But then, I remember my great Aunt Mae and I say to them, “Don’t worry about being a worrier. You come from a long line of worriers.” 

Maybe the best we can do is welcome worry. 

Maybe welcoming worry won’t make it go away, but it will perhaps, make it a bit lighter. Shining a light on it as a guide to tell us what we truly love and care about. Helping us understand what we need in our life that may be missing. Maybe it’s a part of ourselves that thinks survival depends on being prepared for catastrophe and the only way to do that is worry. 

I’m not sure. And I worry about that. 

But one thing I do see clearly: my worst worries never came true. So now, I’m going to work on welcoming my worries as part of life because I come from a long line of worriers. 

No Apologies.

Back in my 20's, I vividly remember another female coworker bumped into her chair and said, "I'm sorry." I also vividly remember being appalled because she just apologized to HER CHAIR! It was just so ridiculous to me, really think about it, the chair has no feelings so why in the world would she apologize to it?

Unfortunately, many decades later, I understand. 

As a red-hot, young feminist, I saw her behavior as a flaming example of what not to do. But after years on this planet as a woman, I have to admit, I've done it too. Ok, maybe not to a chair. But I've said those words to plants, dogs, cats, spiders, and strangers everywhere. 

Just this week, I caught myself apologizing for: trying to get down a crowded grocery store aisle, needing help to reach items on a high shelf, a dirty window, silver glitter on a store conveyor belt, getting a parking space in a crowded lot. In NONE of these situations did I do anything to 'wrong' anyone else. I was even told by a cashier that the conveyor belt was already littered with glitter from OTHER customers. 

In other words, I had no need to apologize at all. 

Here's something I'm asking myself now: What would a guy say? What could I say instead? Or better yet, do I need to say anything at all? Really, how many times do you or I really do anything that needs an apology. 

If I've decided to do or not do something that is in my own best interests for my health, wealth or well-being, I do not need to be sorry. Just because someone else wants me to choose otherwise, I do not need to apologize. I need to remember making a choice that is good for me, is my right as a human being on this planet. Even when it comes to simple things like getting a jar of peanut butter in a crowded grocery store aisle. 

Guilt free, new words. 

Here are a few phrases I'm going to start saying instead of, "I'm sorry."

"Hi, there. I need to get the peanut butter."

"Oh, look at all that glitter."

"Look out, coming through!" Or better yet, just navigate around the crowd. 

"Oh, look. A great parking space!"

"Oh, it was a miscommunication."

"Hi, I have a question." or "I'm looking for ______. Do you know where it is?"

And most of all, "I can't make it." Or "I can't do it." Or "I'm all booked up."

Or, "No."

I know, the 'n' word is scary especially for women as we are not trained to say it so boldly or simply. But, let me be bold, and say it's time to stop saying sorry. Say No. No apologies necessary. 

Faith In Fun.

L

It's Spring Break in my neck of the woods and for many that means taking time off school or work.  Since I work for myself, asking myself for a vacation can get a little awkward. And, unfortunately, the conversation doesn't always go well.

Artist me to Boss me, "Ah, it's Spring Break, so I was wondering about taking a few days off?"

Boss me to Artist me, "You don't need a Spring Break. You're an artist, you play everyday."

It's true.  I am an artist.  I do use clay and create fun, functional ceramics, masks and sculptures.  I love what I do, most of the time.  But just because I love it and create whimsical, fun pieces doesn't mean it isn't work.  I have schedules and meetings and deadlines, too.

When my kids were little and had school breaks, I knew I wouldn't get any studio work done. I didn't fight it.  I gave into the rhythm and spent the time coming up with creative things to do for and with my children.  If they wanted to go skating, we did it.  A new game to play?  A movie?  Sure!  

Why do I find this so hard to do for myself?

Guilt? Shame? Fear? Sure. I fear that my clay will all dry out.  My pieces will not get finished and I'll waste my life.  If I take time off, time away, time out that I might never get back to work.  I will veg out on the window seat staring out the window.  Forever. Or run away to never Neverland and never come back. 

What if I actually did all the above and well, nothing bad happened?

What if I choose to have fun and faith in me, instead?  

Work of the heart is still work.  And doing good work also requires time out, time off and, sometimes, time away.

I'd write more, but, well it's Spring Break.  Time to go outside, smell the lilacs and rosemary, take time off and stare out the window.  See ya later!

An Abundance of Work and Love.

Abundance and love come in many ways.  There's health and sunshine.  Flowers blooming in winter.  A softly snoring dog and cozy kitty.   A warm home loving friends and family.  And work.  

Never before in my life would I have put work and love in the same sentence.  

I grew up with work to do all the time.  Didn't you? Chores. Homework. Dishes.  Laundry. Ironing. Running errands for someone else.  When I got my first job, I dove right in working hard to be successful. Striving and achieving. I thought I liked it but it was difficult, tiring and stressful.

Then, working was always all about how hard I worked. But something's changed along the way and I didn't even see it. Now work is about desire.  Challenge.  Courage and discovery.  

And love.  

I work in my studio with clay and color and sometimes window screening.  I throw on the wheel and roll out slabs.  I paint leaves red, eyebrows purple and stamp circles into squares.  I make cups, plates, bowls, vases and masks.  Each and every time, it's a challenge to make the shapes I want, the colors work and dry the porcelain clay without cracks.  Just when it seems I have figured it out, there's a new problem to solve leading to a new creative discovery.  I'd like to say I'm an expert at what I do, but the truth is I'm still learning. That's where the courage comes in, facing my mistakes or inexperience and keep on working anyway.

I did my very best, then.  I still do.

Now, I see an abundance of work on my shelves, drying racks and sculpture stand as an abundance of love just waiting for me.  I don't know where I'd be without it.