Sometimes I worry after reading a good book. Why? Because I know I loved the book and I want to tell someone, anyone about it. That's not so bad, right? It's logical to want to share something you love with someone else. So I find a friend, a family member. I start telling them all about the book I read. My favorite scenes, characters, how I wrote down so many quotes from the book because they all spoke to me and made me feel something. I tell them about one scene where this happens, then this happens, but this happens, so it was just so beautiful and sad and-
And then, I get to thinking. I do that a lot. Too much. I start wondering if they're even listening anymore. Do they even care about a book about a circus where fire burns in unnatural colors, a girl who can change the color of her dress from white to black like ink seeping over paper, and multiple tents that have some new magical world inside each of them? Am I talking too much about the one thing I really want to talk about? Why are they only responding by unemotionally saying "oh, that's cool" - or worse - saying nothing at all and just letting me talk?
I get ready for vacation. Nobody has a set-in-stone plan. We'll stay at this hotel, drive a few hours, hang out somewhere for the afternoon, drive some more, stay at a new hotel for the night. We might visit a family friend in the area. But maybe we won't. Maybe we'll have supper with another friend. Maybe we'll just keep driving. Maybe there will be a pool in the second hotel. Maybe not. "We'll see when we get there." My parents say. "We don't know" is the answer I get when I ask for tomorrow's plan. "We'll see what happens." I want a plan. It would be nice to have a schedule - we spend one o' clock to three o' clock in one city, then we drive two hours to a new city and eat supper at a specific restaurant, then we drive three more hours to our hotel that for sure has a pool. We'll swim until ten o' clock, then return to our room for the night and drive on in the morning. But we don't have a schedule. It's a "wing it" sort of plan. And something always changes. Maybe we'll choose to drive through the night. Maybe we'll sit down at a restaurant instead of going through the drive-thru. Maybe we'll stay in a hotel two nights instead of three, or three instead of one. And then maybe we won't start vacation until a week after we planned to.
I spend twelve minutes wondering if I should go ahead and text one of my friends. Is he busy? Does she not want to chat right now? I spend another five minutes staring at the words on my screen, wondering if my usual salutation of "hey, how's it going?" is getting old. Should I use something else? Maybe "what's up?" or "do you want to chat for a bit?" or "how's your day been so far?" And then I start wondering - again - if I should even text them in the first place. What if they don't answer within the next couple of hours? I'll start worrying. What if they're bothered that we already talked twice last week - even though the conversations were four days apart? I mean, we're friends. It shouldn't really matter. If they're busy, we'll talk later. If she doesn't want to talk right now, there's always another time when she will. But what if there isn't? Does he still like me? Does she still want to be friends? Will they want to meet up next week or will it just be a waste to ask?
The more I try to plan or the more I think, the more anxious I get. It's silly, I know, but still I worry. Do I talk too much? Do I talk too little? Did I unknowingly say something I shouldn't have? Am I boring my friends? Do real friends actually care whether I'm boring them or not? Will we arrive at our destination at six in the evening or two in the morning because we changed plans halfway through the trip? I had been told there would be a pool, but there isn't - now the plan has changed again! There are so many possibilities, and changes to plans make me anxious. This was the way it was supposed to be. Why are they changing it now?
The more I think, the more I work myself up until I can hardly stand it. I won't text one of my best friends because I'm worried he doesn't really like me anymore. Which I know isn't at all true. I'll say in passing that I just finished a book and loved it, but with all my might I'll resist the urge to say any more than that unless they further inquire about it. I'm worried I'll talk too much and they'll grit their teeth and not tell me I'm boring them. If I start to feel I'm saying too much, I'll ask them a hundred times if they think I am. During vacations, I'll just want to drive. I don't want to stop anywhere. I don't want the journey to cease because that means the one thing I can always enjoy and find peace in - the fact that the tires of our vehicle are still moving along an endless highway and not stopping at this or that unexpected place - will end and a new part of our plan will begin.
I stress about simple things. Things most people wouldn't understand. The fact that I stress about which outfit to wear every Sunday morning is not because I'm a girly girl, but because I'm worried I'll stand out too much if I wear a vibrant dress or I'll look too casual if I just wear jeans and a blouse. And what will people think if they notice I'm snapping my fingers and humming to myself because I'm trying to keep calm in a loud gathering? Will they think I'm annoying or awkward or strange? The teenagers next to the snacks table wave at me, and I silently hope they won't come over and want to meet me. What if my voice cracks because I'm so nervous? What if they think I'm weird? I'm sure they think I'm weird. But what if I try to meet them? What if I initiate the conversation? Will they smile and say hello, but secretly wish I'd go away and bother someone else? Will we end up being friends? Will they forget me next week, and I'll be left remembering the fun we had for the rest of my life without ever seeing them again?
I hate stressing over things. It fixes nothing. It doesn't make me feel better. In the end, I want to text my friends. I want to vacation and have the time of my life and let go of plans and schedules and expectations. I want to meet new people and be myself around them without worrying what they think of me. But the stress holds me back, whispers little things in my ear and tells me I'll only bother people or I'll mess everything up if I don't overthink every little thing. I can't snap my fingers and suddenly feel calm. I can't will away the insecurity.
But you know what I can do?
I can worry that I'm worrying too much.
And that...
Doesn't really help.
