Tuesday, June 03, 2008

I am a worrier by nature, and given enough free time I can worry myself sick, into a hysterical apocalyptic frenzy that gives me the vapors. Inside my head is an expert worst case scenario generator.

But that's not healthy, so I've been trying to break the things that worry me into bite-size pieces. I worry about skin cancer, so I keep out of the sun and wear sunscreen and live in a cloudy town and know more about direct vs indirect DNA damage than anyone should. I worried about car accidents so much that I quit driving and started relying on my feet and public transportation. I worry about chemicals and what they're doing to the environment, so I've replaced all of my cleaners and most of my toiletries with ones made of things that occur in nature and come in recyclable containers.

It helps me feel like I have a little bit of control, because the things that really scare me are ones I can't do anything about. I worry about my loved ones constantly, all of the things that can happen to them. I spend an awful lot of time fretting over the end of the world, and what the toxins that have been leaching out of plastics at me my whole life have done to my future children. I could tell you imaginary stories about terrible things for days.

It's the end of the world that I'm working on right now, though. Food shortages scare me, so I'm learning how to grow food on my balcony. I feel guilty about all of the waste I generate, so I'm composting in my worm box. I already don't drive or contribute many chemicals in the water supply, and I eat pretty locally, so that makes me feel better. But I buy too many things and have too many things delivered, and I write letters that are delivered by car. What I could be doing but am not is frequently overwhelming what I am doing, and I have not yet figured out how to break down my bite sized pieces into smaller bites.

So I find myself, lately, panicking again over the old things. Skin cancer. Car wrecks. My crooked nose and muppet head. Worry, worry, worry.

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