The Fallacy of Worry

I’ve never really considered myself to be a worrier. Generally with events or tasks I don’t overthink it, just do the thing.

But lately I’ve noticed there’s one thing that can send me spiraling completely out of control into the realm of worst possible outcomes.

Seeing a person in pain.

Particularly, women in pain.

Particularly, women who grew up without a mother, in pain.

I pretty much go into rescuer mode. It’s not pretty.

When I was thirteen years old my cousin came to live with my family. I saw a void that needed to be filled. She needed someone to be there for her, support her, guide her, help her, mother her. And I became that person. The perfectionist in me took on the role with complete embodiment and 1000% pressure that everything would turn out perfect for her, as long as I followed the rules and made sure she did too.

She didn’t like following the rules.

So then began a series of damage control, first small, then bigger and bigger, until it just became about control. My anxiety was through the roof inside this house of expectation. And the more I couldn’t control the situation, the more I put on myself to do more. To “make up” for what I perceived as fault, as lack, as shortcoming, because I was the peacekeeper between someone I loved like a baby bird I had to keep safe and a very overbearing evil lord, my dad (LOL okay I love my dad. We’re just talking teenage brain here hahahaha).

My cousin ended up moving away. And I felt like I had failed her.

Okay. The mindscape of every thirteen year old girl is pretty fucking extreme. And what happens when that much emotion goes unresolved, is we carry it with us until it can be resolved. And if that never happens, then we just keep repeating the same behavioral pattern over and over again.

Over two decades later, I’m still here. I’m still that thirteen year old girl trying to save and rescue women who lacked the same amount of love and guidance that I received. And it’s a double-edged sword, because the trade off for the safe shelter of my upbringing was freedom. So as much as I was cared for, I was also put into a box. And that is confusing as fuck. Where is the fine line between freedom and security? Messiness and happiness? Caring and controlling?

When I see things headed south for someone I love, I immediately want to step in. I want to fix. I want to protect. I want to fight the threat. I want to not fail.

And isn’t it amazing what our brains can tell us in these moments of alarm? One single thought can quickly be turned into an amalgamation of worst-case scenarios, leading us to feel like if immediate action isn’t taken, then everything’s going to go to shit.

But it’s a lie.

The thing about worry is, it’s just practiced anxiety. It’s letting one anxious feeling turn into an anxiety attack of what-if’s. It’s letting our brain repeat a thought over and over until it mutates into a completely new strain of virus that takes over all rationale. It’s letting a perfectly good moment turn into a future that we cannot see or control. It’s voluntary suffering.

Not only is worrying a waste of energy, it’s actually a destructive energy that can cause ruptures in relationships. It can make the very people I want to help feel overwhelmed. Powerless. Frustrated. People don’t want you to worry about them. They just want to be loved. And love is not anxiety. Love is not fear. Love is acceptance. A simple, “Cool, okay!” is a thousand times better than, “Omigod well then we’ll have to do this and then this and we gotta do it quick before it all goes to shit omigod.” Fear is restrictive. Love is expansive. And what that means is, to love someone well, is to provide a really big space, a giant football field-sized space, for them to learn and grow. For them to figure shit out. And to know ultimately that nothing is within our control. It was never meant to be. As Neil Strauss says, “Cling to certainty, if it makes you feel better. Just be aware that what you’re clinging to is the opposite of life.”

So often I’m so blinded by the “problem” in front of me that I get shortsighted. But if I look at the example of my cousin, she turned out amazing. She’s living her best life, and the happiest she’s ever been. Life will unfold the way it does with or without our frustration and attempts at control. With or without our misplaced emotions and energy. With or without this fallacy that worry can make things better. And so, it’s another thing on my laundry list of things to let go of.

One of my very wise mentors once said, “We’re the best at what we’re doing when we’re relaxed.” When I’m worried, I am a tight ball. Imagine rolling up a parachute and trying to fit it into a can of tuna. Imagine the amount of pressure that creates. That is what worry is. To relax is to let that parachute open. Let it be free. Let it help you float safely down into that wide open field of growth. And then imagine everyone around you who you worry about having that same giant parachute, floating safely around, doing their own thing, tending their own field. We’re all just doing our best, trying our best to not be put into a box. Or get our parachutes squished.

I don’t know where I’m going with this analogy hahahaha. Maybe it’s just the realization that worry is the opposite of love. And the opposite of truth. Because worry exists in the future. Truth exists in the now. And if I can focus on everything that is good now, and not let my brain run off into “but this could be better” land, then worry can be vanquished.

To everyone I’ve ever worried about, I’m sorry. I love you. I love you completely as you are, right now. I see you. And I ain’t worried.