I’ll admit it – I’m a stresscase. Whether it’s work (often) or guys (um, sorta often), I tend to be somewhat of a worrywort. Granted, through the years I’ve found ways to justify it (“I’m a writer, I need to over-analyze!”) or disguise it (“Sure, I’ll have another glass of wine! Stress? What Stress?”) – but regardless, once a worrier, always a worrier.
Still, I’ve always known that worry about something rarely helps the situation – in the long run, it doesn’t affect whether or not you’ll get the job, if you’ll find your dream house, or if he’ll call or not. I’m a firm believer in the “things happen for a reason” mantra, that worrying, as easy as it is to revert to, plays little to no bearing in the outcome.
And yet when it’s something big, something serious, I can’t help but worry a bit. As is the case this week.
I’m having surgery in less than 24 hours, and – truth be told – I’m freaking out a little. Granted, it’s LASIK surgery, and though I’ve read the possible complications and know what to expect, the thought of me sitting in the waiting room by myself sends me on the fast track to anxiety-land.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve only had surgery once before (on my wisdom teeth) and for whatever reason, be it that I was younger, was in Ohio, had my Mom to take care of me or the fact that I “awoke” to find myself leading the office in a spirited round of Christmas carols, I don’t remember being this worried. But now? Today? Tomorrow? Yeah. I am. Maybe it’s because although someone is dropping me off, I’ll end up in the waiting room – waiting – alone. Or, even though someone is taking me home, I’ll be there – alone. And if I’m in pain? Yep, you guessed it – alone. The funny thing is that I know I’ll be fine, but my usual rationalizations don’t seem to be working here. Plain and simple, I’m scared.
No wonder they say “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.” Because eventually, when the “Big Stuff” comes around, you’ll learn what a fool you’ve been worrying over something that, in comparison, is pretty small.
Still, I somehow know that when all is said & done, when this post makes me laugh over my stress, I’ll still be worrying about the job, the house, or the guy. Hey – I’m still Aubrey, after all…