Are you a worrier?

My father was a worrier. He worried about his factory. He worried about his family. When I was a little girl, if I mentioned that my stomach hurt, he would immediately want to call a doctor. He worried about my mother’s driving. When she was driving, he would keep saying, “Watch out…”

When I became a mother, I worried a lot. Our son used to say that he didn’t need to worry about anything because I did all the worrying for him.

I worry about my husband, too. Sometimes, when I’m waiting for him to come home and it’s raining or sleeting out,I play the what-if game… What if something has happened to him… When I worry it’s as if a gigantic monster is pouncing on my head.

A friend once told me, “When you worry, it’s like beating yourself up for nothing.” I know she’s right.

I’m not sure if my ability to worry is inherited or just learned. But I’m very skilled at it.

After all, I am my father’s daughter.

* Illustration from GROW OLD WITH ME, coming Fall 2019