You again, January. Such a pallid, Ryvita-like month.
Also very appropriate for worrying. Of course, you know (and accept?) life is a finite thing, in theory, don't you. But last weekend, driving back from my parents' house, a cold wave of concern about my mother broke over me. That day she was so uncomfortable* that the awful inevitability of her life becoming ever more constricted and painful as her arthritis worsens made itself horribly real, at that moment, in my car. If I could just keep driving, I thought, I'd drive through it. I'd be okay for as long as I could stay in my metal bubble. But this country is not just not big enough to escape into, in my own road movie because unless I went in actual circles, I'd run out of Ireland in 3 hours and have to turn back. (There's a charming/aggravating Irish feeling of no escape, here. You could, of course, go Out West, but it isn't very Out and you could easily run into someone who you went to ballet class with as children. Or the Girl Guides, another institution responsible for many mildly embarrassing acquaintanceships.)
It's so adult, this stuff; I don't know how you could ever be ready for it. How to manage it at all.
Worry, for one thing, is so pointless. I remember I read somewhere once that rather than trying not to worry at all, (clearly not going to happen) you could confine worry time to 10 minutes a day, when you could worry all you wanted. You redirect your thoughts when a worry occurs. Not now, worry! You say. Please come back at the designated worry-time.
Hey, I'll try anything. I need skillz here; this is for the long haul and I like to have a plan.
I'd love to hear how you manage yours if you are of a mind to share.
In any case, I wish you a peaceful week.
*As it happens, it seems a virus is responsible for her feeling so poorly lately. Which is (relatively) good news. You can recover from a virus, after all.