What? Me Worry?

This morning I read a post from IM Fletcher on his blog The Jane Doe Byline, that started my mind down the Worry Path.

https://thejanedoebyline.wordpress.com/2019/08/07/pivotal-date-aug-12th/

I pretty much live just off of the Worry Path on the corner of Anxiety Avenue and Worst Case Scenario Lane in a two-story house made of faux adobe. The house itself is a cause for concern.

Last week I worried about my adult children and their children traveling by car and/or plane to our family reunion in Texas. I worried about Studly Doright riding the backroads on his motorcycle across multiple states to join us at the reunion. I worried about my cats who’d stayed behind under the care of a competent pet sitter.

Oddly enough, I never worried about my own safety as I hurtled across the skies inside machines that seem to defy gravity and logic. That kind of worry would just be stupid.

Thanks to my diligent worrying, every one of us made it safely to and from the reunion. Once again, my efforts paid off. I’m exhausted. Now, what should I worry about this week? Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless.

Here’s a poem I posted a while back, in case you think I’m a novice worrier:

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/10/31/the-queen-of-worry/

Peace, people!

When I Get it Wrong

I’m not going to write much today. It seems that I worked myself up over something I manufactured in my head. I didn’t sleep at all last night wondering what I’d done wrong, who I’d ticked off, and how I should make amends, only to discover that I’d misread the communications that precipitated my presumptions. I jumped to some wrong conclusions and landed ungracefully on my face.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not the center of the universe, you see. I’m not responsible for all of the good in the world, nor am I the cause of all that is foul. I’m just an almost 62 year old woman who is blundering along in this life. Usually I can avoid unnecessary drama, but occasionally I’m a veritable factory of the same.

The sad thing is, jumping to conclusions doesn’t burn any calories. If it did I’d be able to fit into my size 7 wedding dress with room to spare. Here’s to trying to do better.

Peace, people.

The Queen of Worry

Throw a sash around my neck,

I’ll parade across the stage

As the crowd cheers frantically

I’ll smile brilliantly and wave

My speech will thank the people

Who’ve made me who I am today

All the ones within my care

Who’ve caused my hair to gray

I know I’m not the fun one

Keeping order is my chore

The Queen of Worry ‘til my death

And then I’ll worry no more

Because I Can’t Scream in Public

There is a gargoyle living in my gut. His gruesome stone snarl scraping against my colon. The heartburn never ends.

He must have moved in as a pebble, a tiny worry about what could be, and every minute since that shitty November day he’s

Grown more abrasive, more corrosive, taking up too many centimeters of my being. He spits acid from a contorted tongue,

Searing the lining of my duodenum, creating blisters that won’t soon heal. Resistance hurts, but acquiescence kills.


Something of Substance

The name meant nothing to her. She’d heard it murmured by others 

once or twice, and whispered it to herself in the grayed shadows of night. But still, 

the word was just a pair of syllables, having no weight or depth of their own. 

Why then did she find her fingertips bruised, nails chipped and bloodied from

repeated attempts to scratch the letters into the stone she’d tucked inside her 

pocket? Surreptitious strokes, thumb circling, reassuring.

  

Sweating the Small Stuff

  
In a perfect world we’d all be as chill as this cat. 

Instead, I seem to follow the scenario below:

  
Like my mother before me, if I don’t have something to worry about I get worried. I heard recently in an interview on NPR that humans developed the ability to worry as a survival skill. At least I think that’s what the expert said. If so, I’m well equipped to survive. Unless of course I’m not. I guess I should worry about that, as well.

  
Peace, people!

WordPress and Me–Happy Anniversary to Us

One year ago today on a whim I decided to begin writing a blog. I promised myself I’d post something every day for one month. Really, that was my only goal, just to consistently write. How hard could it be? 

That first month was pure agony. I worried about what people would think. I worried about how many people might read my words. I worried about topics. I worried about fonts and styles. I worried about running out of things to worry about. I’m a great worrier.

After 30 days I think I had five followers. Five. But I found I was enjoying the writing. I even enjoyed racking my brain for topics. And five people were reading my blog. Two of them even seemed to like it.

I decided to keep posting daily for three more months. The agony was still there, but I learned to work with it, to make it work for me instead of against me on most days.

In addition, I learned about tagging my posts–finding the little bits and pieces within a piece that might draw people to my writing. Suddenly I had people from all over the world reading what I wrote and following me. In turn, I found bloggers whose work interested me and began following them. (See below)

We began a give and take of information and support. It was amazing to have others read and comment on my writing. That’s become my favorite part of this adventure.

Three months turned into a year, and I’m proud to say that I’ve averaged more than one post per day for the past 365 days. I have a few more than five followers now, but that’s beside the point. I have fun! 

I’ve learned something wonderful from these writers/photographers/artists:

Stop worrying! Be yourself! Write!

www.http://sanseilife.wordpress.com

https://tlryder.wordpress.com

http://trudistreasures.com

http://inesemjphotography.com/

https://aroilinpain.wordpress.com/

http://shirleysheaven.wordpress.com/

http://notesfromtheuk.com/

http://frommidnighttodawnlight.com/

https://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/

https://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/

https://reachingmeadowlane.wordpress.com/

http://poesypluspolemics.com/

https://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/

https://eurobrat.wordpress.com/

http://movingtowardsthelight.com

http://naturehasnoboss.com/

https://belindacrane.wordpress.com/

https://mommycookforme.wordpress.com/

http://kittomalley.com/author/kittomalley/

http://themischiefmemoirs.com/

https://epicgran.wordpress.com/
https://redswrap.wordpress.com/

I know I’ve left some important folks out. It wasn’t intentional, I promise! 

Peace and thanks, people!

Celebrate

Well, it’s great news. My moles were nothing more than moles. Of course I’d already planned for the worst, written my own eulogy and scheduled my farewell tour. It seems a shame to waste the eulogy, so I won’t.

Nananoyz.

What can we say about a woman of her wit, her talent, her love for her fellow man? We could say that she never met a stranger. We could say that she had more time on her hands than was prudent. We could say that she was a hopeless romantic who always held out hope that Studly would one day surprise her with a romantic getaway to a Caribbean island retreat where she would have unlimited access to every spa service ever conceived.

We could say that she had a heart of pure gold, but that would be a total lie. She actually had a heart of flesh and blood, which could be broken by a harsh word or thoughtless deed even though she always claimed the opposite.

We could say that she loved her children, but that would be an understatement. She adored them. We could say that her grandchildren were important to her, but in truth they made her days worth living. They were her reason for being.

She didn’t want a long eulogy, so I’ll stop with one last thought. Nananoyz wanted people to be kind to one another. So, smile at one another as you leave this place. Hug your spouse. Embrace your children and grandchildren. Go forth and be kind.

And please, don’t let Studly take wife #2 to a Caribbean island.

(I’m resting in) Peace, People!