The Constant Worrywart

I have to confess that, despite my outwardly cheerful disposition, I can be a tiresome worrywart.

There are times when I would fret over matters inconsequential in nature, or that have yet to manifest in real life, much to the detriment of my emotional health.

My worrisome streak has given my mom a cause to scold me in turn. This is largely owing to the fact I'd usually unload my host of 'potential problems' on her! "What if..." "But then..." "I wonder if..." My almost endless whining is a sore subject in itself. :)

Inspite of my childlike relapses, she's both my confidante and my voice of reason. She has a way with words that would imprint on my psyche, for a considerable amount of time. Or if I'm lucky, a lifelong stamp.

The thing is I can be over-analytical for my own good. I pore over issues that have, on hindsight, easier and straightforward solutions. I tend to worry, after the fact, if actions that I had taken would aggrieve the receiving party. 'Let bygone by bygone' was a difficult saying to live by.

Compounded by my proclivity for nitty-gritty details, you could say I am able to run away with my fret-full thoughts. It's just by parsing an event that had occured, a behaviour detected or even a sentence uttered, I feel relatively at ease that I've left no stones unturned.

Probably this is the other conceivable weird trait that I'd failed to mention.

This continual struggle to shed my worry bug was later met with a different type of setbacks when I got married. A whole, new dimension for me to harp on. Gosh! When will it end!

Even with my husband's entreaties and clearly spousal support, I was still being a fusspot. How wretched he must have been! Worrying has become a second nature to me that I need to 'unlearn' it on my own.

Then, on one of the days when I was engulfed with anxiety over my growing list of worries, a revelation hit me. I wasn't living my life fully. I've forgotten to smell the fragrant, abundant roses. I dither and wither, when I could have been really happy and sappy.

Also, with a baby added to the fold, I cannot afford to niggle my way out of a situation. I'm always on my toes with Sadia anyway to idle away whatever remains of my 'Me' time.

I do not want to hide behind a cheery facade anymore. I resolve to be true to myself. Sometimes a clown has to rub off her greasepaint, to discard her circus act and face the music. She has to learn a new bag of tricks, paramount of which is walking steadily on the balance beam.

By balancing the need to be concerned and the motivation to be contented, I ironically 'look forward' to the day when I will proudly say "I have fully-lived my life".