I am the queen of worry. If worry was a sport I would get gold medals at the Olympics. If it was a subject, I would get all “A”s and go to the worrier equivalent of Harvard. As previously established I worry about the future, but I worry about the present too (I avoid worrying about the past, it seems a little pointless). I have the other two bases covered damn well. Case in point- I can not go for a day without talking to Nate. Not because I’m oh-so-madly in love and sit pining for hours on end thinking about what he’s wearing or eating or smelling or whatever (insert vomit here), but because if he doesn’t confirm that he is in fact breathing I will begin to worry that he isn’t. I will begin to think that he has been hit by a bus (that was today’s fear of choice) while riding his bike, and because he doesn’t wear a helmet, no longer has a face. Maybe he’s still breathing, but not without the help of a long plastic tube.
I know, logically, he is probably fine and out to drinks with friends (as he was tonight) but I still can’t shake the minute possibility that he COULD be dead. So I spend the evening distracting myself. I can’t watch things or read things because my mind wanders and then I think about dead Nathan (keep in mind this is not simply confined to worrying about Nathan, I also worry about my parents/brother while at home). So I am left to clean and work on school. Nothing like repatriation and reburial controversy to take your mind off dead boyfriends!
I don’t like it when people are unpredictable and break the normal order of things. It freaks me out. Maybe the root of my perfection of the art of worrying is my disdain for disorder and unpredictability. I like to know what is going to happen. I like facts and I like to know whats coming next. I like surprises, but I don’t like waiting for them. I think this is different from not being spontaneous, because I have my spontaneous moments- walks at all hours of the night, drives to weird places, ect. I take risks- I spelunk and rock climb and white water raft. However, I am in semi control of all those things, I am in complete control of me. I am not in control of other people or buses going at fast speeds around corners.
I try SO hard not to be so neurotic, but I can’t help the twisty feeling that accumulates in my stomach every time I look at the clock and see that another minute has passed by and I haven’t heard from him. Then when I do finally hear, I feel SO stupid. I sit silently, don’t reply immediatly, breathe very deeply several times as this horrible feeling sweeps through my stomach as it swells upward in relief, and feel really stupid. I wish I could renounce my title as the worry queen. I really really wish I could renounce my title as the worry queen.