The Ways of Worry

It's amazing what Worry will do to you. Even though statistically you know that a reason for worry really isn't likely to exist, you do anyway, especially when you are a mother and the worry concerns one of your offspring.

In my case, Worry caused me to stay in my house for four days straight; caused me not to sleep during those four days and caused me to cancel my much-looked-forward-to trip to California to hang out with knitting buddies for the weekend.

Yesterday, at the height of my Worry, I went a little mad. I scrubbed the oven and the dishwasher and made myself stop short of emptying and cleaning the refrigerator and the cupboards. When I entered my office/sewing room, however, I was unable to resist and I allowed Worry to take over . Some little sleep-deprived demon whispered to me that if I rearranged the whole room and organized it then I wouldn't worry so much.

So, as if the more I cleaned the more quickly I would hear from Randy, I madly moved heavy bookcases and rolltop desks and file cabinets, removing and replacing their contents and being grateful every time I lost control of something that it didn't crush my skull so that I would be found lifeless--but still worried-- under the crushing weight of a pile of programming and quilting books.

I finally stopped, too exhausted to continue but happy that everything was in a good place. I sat down to eat my leftover pizza and there in my email was a message from my son, happy and safe in Amsterdam, headed to Israel, having already spent quality time in Spain and thinking of meeting us in Ireland. No bomb was going to ruin his summer in Europe.

Today, of course, I'm suffering for doing all that manual labor by myself. But Worry has left. I think I'll go knit some lace.