worry.

“i can’t take it anymore!  i can’t live this way anymore!  i’m serious!  i’m done.  i can’t do it!”

there was a woman walking out of the thrift shop as i was just getting into my parked car.  this is what she wailed into her cell phone.  i could hear her for the entire block.  i could hear her as i drove past.  i craned my neck to see her.  she wasn’t crying.  she was fairly wide eyed.

i don’t care what was wrong, what choices she’d made to get there, what she could have done differently.  she was feeling that at that moment and i couldn’t shake it.  what drove her to that phone call?  where did she go next?  was she hungry? did she eat?  what did she eat?  was someone nice to her?  simply nice?

that was days ago.  i keep thinking about her and her wailing self walking down main street not caring who heard her confessions.  maybe i’m a bit envious.  no cares beyond her feelings that moment.

i’ve never yelled those words into my phone as i walked down the street.  but i’ve known a knee buckling worry that attacks out of nowhere, i’ve know the all consuming ache of anxiety, i’ve known the mysterious prickle on the back of the neck that seems to make no sense, i’ve known what it’s like to try to roll over in bed hoping to lose the dread.

and i am so grateful to be through that.

a little over ten years ago, i struggled through miscarriage and shortly after, the birth of micah.  in short, those two things rocked my world.  but this dear child of mine turns 10 in a few days.

i remember telling my therapist, “i know i’ll be grateful for all this someday, but now i can hardly take it.”

and i am grateful.   i’m grateful for knowing a part of life i didn’t before, for the promise of peace, for reminders of options, for people simply being nice to me.  i hope that woman on the street has that.

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2 thoughts on “worry.

  1. Tears. Tears of tender gratitude — for your life, for your health, for your returned joy. So wonderful to be with you for Micah’s tenth birthday. It doesn’t get any better than this — surely doesn’t need to!!! :-)

    Love you, Dad

    Like

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