Worrywart

I worry obsessively about things that should really not bother me and probably wouldn’t bother most people. I allow them to snowball into something much bigger than they actually are. I get overly emotional sometimes even a bit hysterical. I know, ridiculous. But it’s true.

My parents have told me that I am the child they worry about the most. I have put them through hell. They’ve told me that they’ve laid in bed many nights worrying about what bad decision I’m going to make next or when the next bout of depression or panic attack will be. They worry about me worrying, I think.

I remember when I decided to move home to Florida I would stay up for days straight trying to figure out how I would pack everything, how many hours it would take for me to get home, how much money it would cost, if I would still be able to keep my old room. If I’m going to keep my old room where would my bed go? Would it fit? Were mom and dad going to clean out the closet before I got there? Would I get a job? If I don’t get a job what am I going to do for money? I hope I don’t run into anyone I know. If I run into people I know what will they think of me? They’ll probably judge me because of my tattoos. No, they’ll judge me because I had to moved home. I’ve gained so much weight since high school. I’m a fat, tattooed slob that gave up.  I worried myself sick, literally. I threw up almost every day before I made it back to Florida. I exhausted myself. I cried a lot. I called home a lot. My dad said: “Kim, you do not need to be worrying about this,” a lot. Yeah, I’m 27.

I spend a large amount of time stressing about work. Not about the amount of work I have to do or the difficulty but I’m always on edge about getting fired. I have never been fired from a job and I take pride in having a strong work ethic. But, I’m scared that I’m not informative enough, or I lack excitement and enthusiasm with new admits or I’m just throwing around all the wrong information. Or, that I might mess up someone’s financial aid or degree plan by giving them bad advice. I worry that I’m not professional, that my jokes are inappropriate, that my sweaters are too faded or my shoes are scuffed. I worry that they think I’m lying when I have a cold and use my leave. I worry that they’ll find out about my blog and fire me. I worry that if I’m not 10 minutes early then I’m late. I worry that they don’t think I’m smart enough.

Three of my superiors wrote recommendation letters for me for my graduate school application and I’m just today giving them Thank You cards. I’m worried they think I’m ungrateful. I mean, I felt sick to my stomach over this. Because I was admitted weeks ago and never gave them a formal thank you note.

I spent a good two weeks going over and over a financial aid presentation I was supposed to give to 200 prospective students and their parents. The night before my presentation I didn’t sleep. I went over it twice and timed it with the stopwatch on my phone. The next morning 35 people showed up and I nailed the presentation. I was so excited about it when it was over because it was a piece of cake. NBD. But, I worried about it for two weeks and almost cried I was so nervous about it.

So, this last week I’ve had high stress and anxiety. Over things that don’t really matter but I think it might make me feel a little bit better if I put it out there. So here is my list of just things that have been bothering me.

First, Chris and I are going to Disney World for Spring Break. I do not get on roller coasters.  I’m terrified of having a brain aneurysm or the jolt from the take-off or the stop will dislocate my spine and I’ll be paralyzed. I cried hysterically the first time I went on Splash Mountain. We purchased the family picture from the ride. The one they take when the flume drops. Everyone in the photo has their hands in the air, beaming with excitement. I, on the other hand, am the only person in the photograph gripping the rails in front of me, mid-blood curdling scream, if you look up close, you can see tears of fear streaming down my face. So, no, I’m not into anything that has “Mountain” in the name or could potentially end your life. That being said, I’m mostly worried about frustrating Chris by not getting on anything other than like It’s A Small World and Peter Pan.

I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday. I haven’t taken my cholesterol medicine in a few weeks and I just had blood work done. I know the numbers will be high again and my doctor will be disappointed in me and tell me that I need to lose weight. Therefore, I worry that I’ll die of heart disease at an early age because I love bacon and avoid the gym to eat Chipotle.

I’m worried that I have no eggs left and I won’t be able to bear children. If I am fortunate enough to have children I’m afraid I’ll be an old mom because Chris wants to wait until we’re established, responsible adults, which, Hi, is a long way off for me.

I’m scared that I’ll die in a car accident because my car will run off the road into a lake or a ditch and I won’t be able to get out. Chris recently bought me one of those knives that cuts your seat belt and breaks your window, just for my peace of mind. I will take several alternative routes if I know there is going to be traffic over a body of water and I’m stuck on a bridge for an extended period of time. I don’t care if it’s longer.

I also have pretty terrible social anxiety. This has been an ongoing issue for me. My friends make me feel guilty about not going out with them and only seeing me once or twice a month. Chris hates that we only ever go out to eat and I have lived here almost two years and still don’t know where the best bars in town are located. I don’t like large groups of people. I don’t like parties or clubs. I rarely go to bars. I’m not big on chit-chat. I leave places early. I avoid goodbyes. Mostly because I worry about what other people think of me. How I look. The things I say; whether I’m funny or not. That people think my humor and sarcasm is heartless or that I’m too negative; that I really am a mean-spirited and selfish girl. I’m worried that that’s true. I’m trying to establish compromise in my relationships. This is very hard for me because I’m not open to new things.

On top of all that I feel like I really hurt a friend’s feelings by not offering her a place to stay in a time of need. I probably should have but Mark was not interested in another person sleeping on our couch, which I understand. But, I still feel like a terrible person. And she probably thinks I am one because we just danced around the subject with passive aggressive comments over social media about how I’m a bad friend for not offering up a pallet on my floor. “Haha Kim, You’re such a bitch, I would let you stay with me…Just sayin’!” That kind of thing. But honestly, I worried for a good three days about whether or not this was something I should really worry about and then worried about the kind of person I am and how I portray myself to other people, especially people I care about. I worried about how much I cared or didn’t care about her situation and finally had to talk myself into letting it go. Adele Dazeem, Idina Menzel (?) would tell me to let it go.  Let it goooo, Let it goooo! She seemed to not be too upset about it when I told her I asked Mark and it was a no go for her sleeping at our place. So I feel like I stressed for no reason.

I know that this is utterly ridiculous and it may even sound made up but this is a very real and serious issue for me. I feel like my heart is going to explode in my chest and I have no control over my emotions or my feelings, I get clammy and break out in cold sweats. I lose sleep, I make myself sick, I cry a lot. If only it allowed me to stop eating, if anything I’m confronted by food, it calms me down a bit, I suppose.

Thankfully, it hasn’t gotten that bad in a while but this last week was a rough one for me. I’m always on the edge of a panic attack about one thing or the next. So, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do moving forward. Other than suck it up and try not to freak out and take more naps. And no, I’m not interested in Xanex or Prozac.