We go back a long way, Worry and I. And honestly, I wish we’d never gotten involved. I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning of our relationship. Our rocky, irrational, dysfunctional, exhausting relationship.
Before we met, I was acquainted with a few of Worry’s more subtle, less pushy friends… Concern, Apprehension, Unease. All slightly annoying, like the beginning of a bad cold or teenagers laughing during the sad part of a movie. But not debilitating. Not paralyzing. I didn’t obsess over them. They never tried to dictate my thoughts or run my life.
Worry was different. Worry was overwhelming. Overpowering. Shortly after the birth of my first child, Worry set its sights on me, barging into my hospital room with its seemingly harmless offer of assistance, its false sense of power, its empty promises. What a fraud. My husband tried to warn me, but I refused to listen.
To be truthful, this is not the first time I’ve tried to end things. Worry is just so darn persistent. Always there for me. Sticking by my side through two entire decades of motherhood… every waking moment of the baby years, first days of school, bicycle spills, hurt feelings, student council elections, emergency room visits, team try-outs, drivers ed. classes, high school proms, SAT’s, college visits. Now that’s loyalty.
But the truth is, Worry has never treated me well. Never truly cared. And to think of the energy I’ve invested. All for nothing. What a gigantic waste of time. I’m thinking it just isn’t worth it anymore. So I wrote Worry a letter, just to be clear.
I’m sick of you. We’re breaking up. Here’s why:
- This relationship is totally one-sided. I give; you take.
- You’re bad for my health. Whenever we hang out I only end up feeling drained.
- You’re a control freak.
- Gray hair isn’t a good look on me.
- You’re an alarmist. You exaggerate. You blow things way out of proportion.
- I prefer eight hours of sleep, not four.
- You’re a nag.
- You make me eat too many Oreos. And it’s bathing suit season.
- I can’t stand bullies.
- Spending time with you distracts me from the One who actually has power to change things.
- You’re negative. A total pessimist. You have zero sense of humor. You’re no fun at all.
- God said to. (Philippians 4:6, Matthew 6:25-34, Luke 12:2-31, Psalm 55:22, Jeremiah 29:11)
So that’s it. We’re through. Enough is enough. And this time, I mean it. Don’t bother calling me in the middle of the night or showing up at my door unannounced. Are you getting this. You are unwelcome in my home, my workplace, my marriage, my family, my finances, my decisions and my future. Oh, and by the way, I’m telling my friends we split (just in case I need a reminder down the road).