A random thought hit me as I lay in bed last night - does my old bedside dresser contain asbestos? Random. Irrational. Most likely completely unfounded (hopefully). This led me to think more about my habit of worrying.
If worrying was an Olympic sport - Lord Coe, work your magic - my family would have gold medals coming out of our ears (surely a medical condition? Make note to Google later). The anxiety gene has been passed down through many generations and I haven't disappointed the family tradition, in fact one of my early primary school reports stated that I "tend to worry over silly little things". I beg to differ. Not having the right shade of green for my tree painting isn't what I'd call a silly little thing!
Prime time for The Worries to commence is at bedtime. The irrational thoughts start to swirl around my mind like a vortex of the bizarre and hellish under the cover of darkness. Many a time I have had to jump up out of bed to try and block the crushing tide of negativity - what will happen to people when the World is finally sucked into that black hole in the Solar System? Will Lindsay Lohan ever get off the crack? Things of that nature.
The Earth suddenly falling out of the sky (yes I know technically it is the sky - this is panic speaking), snakes loitering in my toilet (the day I don't check is the day it gets me) and Perfect Storm-like super tsunami's (in a residential area) are an example of my recurring fears.
A few years ago I was discussing the Saw films with my colleagues when one guy piped up that his absolute worst fear was being thrown into a pit of used needles. Ha! The freak! I laughed at the pure unlikeliness. Then I remembered that, whilst stood at a bus stop, I was convinced that a rather blustery day was in fact the beginning of a hurricane. I kept one eye on lookout for the arrival of my bus, and used the other to scout out the friendliest looking houses that I would run to for shelter.
According to studies, people who worry are far less effective than those who don't, they get less work done and are less happy. Well I could have told them that for free.
Now I think it is time for bed...once I've checked under it first.
Inspired by a love of writing and a need for an outlet. Woman Writes is about anything that sparks my creative flame
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