On nearly every single previous post you can practically taste my anxieties. I'm not going to tell you that I've found a new and exciting way to never worry again but something Joshua said has stuck with me and locked my worries in the closet.
I worry about a lot of things. I worry about all these weird gun men in my town deciding to spray a barrage a bullets and blow Joshua's brains out. I'm worried about my entire family dying all at once in a horrible, fiery car crash. I'm worried about finding my cats still and motionless, curled up dead somewhere around the house. I'm worried about a major tank collapse so my whole fishy community goes belly up. At least I'm not worried about anatomy anymore. Funny thing is, with childbirth looming in the future you think I would be scared of the possibility of my own death, but this is not so. I never worry about my own death because if I were to die, I would just be dead so I couldn't be upset about it. And though I'd hate to leave a daughter and husband-type I know they have an excellent extended family to look out for them.
I told Joshua how much I was worrying and he told me not to because whether I worry or not what, things will or won't happen. My worry does not affect the outcome of any of these situations, it only puts me under great distress and outs ugly worry winkles on my face. Why worry if everyone I love is going to die? If they die, they die and I can grieve when the time comes but there's just no point in worrying.
I used to worry about my cats more than anything. Due to the wild nature of pets they are prone to horrible and gory accidents, things that (most) humans have enough sense to avoid. Sometimes when one of them was sleeping I would cry into their fur and pet them softly, all too aware that our time together was incredibly brief. Of course I don't like doing this, crying preemptively over the death of your cats is simply uncalled for, and the cats don't really like me making ugly sobbing noises over them and getting their fur all wet while they're trying to sleep.
In short: cry when something bad happens, if you cry preemptively about everything then you will never be happy.
In locking away my fears to face them at appropriate times, I have found myself a lot happier. Without worrying, the sun still comes up, the moon still comes down, and Dixie still kicks the living daylights out of my insides. So really, things are good now.
Joshua and I have taken to playing frisbee, it's a decent work out, it gets us outside, and it's incredibly satisfying to see that plastic disk fly through the air. I don't now why but these frisbee games feel really special to me. To see Joshua smiling in the sunlight, feeling the smile on my own face. Our laughter and prompt apologies as someone makes a horrible throw and the disk is sent careening away. Every second of our frisbee games is cataloged in my mind as moments to never forget. I hope to still remember the feeling of pure and simple joy while outside, pregnant with my baby's father, throwing the frisbee around like there's nothing we'd rather be doing. I wonder if this is how all dogs feel about frisbee.
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