Captain Worry

My first real memory of worrying was when I was around the age of 9 or 10 years of age.  My family had been living in Halifax for 3 or 4 years by then and my older siblings had developed their "city" persona's.  Had we stayed in our small home town I am sure our paths would have taken much different directions.

My oldest sister had followed the path of rebellion.  My parents, having four children, had played the odds and sure enough one of us became the "adventurous" one.  Older Sis had made friends with a member of the local motor cycle gang.  That alone was enough to cause much friction, especially between her and my Mom.  Then one night she didn't come home.  I remember my Mother crying and telling my Dad that she was sure my sister was dead.  He assured her that she was not.  I have no idea if a search was conducted or if the police were called.  Many of my memories from childhood are sketchy at best.  Anyway, Sis is gone and Mom and Dad are freaking.  I am sure my other sister and my older brother were concerned but again, the memory is blank there. 

What isn't blank is the feeling that crept into my stomach that night and the fact that the feeling stayed with me for the entire time she was missing.  I think it may only have been for a night or two but for me it was like it was years.  That gut wrenching sensation would visit me many, many times after that.  I would stay awake at night if anyone in my house stayed out later than expected.   That carried on to my married life with my wife and son.  If they were not home on time then that familiar feeling of anxiety would rear it's ugly head.

There is always something to worry about.  I can't count on my fingers and toes the number of times the end of the world was to happen.  To this day I get very "pissed" when anyone spouts off at the mouth about the end of times.  How many children and anxiety ridden people have suffered because of this irresponsible act?  The thing is I started to notice something.  Someone would be late coming home or the end of the world was near and my anxiety level shot through the roof.  Then they would come home or the date of the world's demise would go by with nothing happening.  Was I responsible for these miracles?  I know it sounds silly but deep down I thought that because I worried, that bad thing that was going to happen, never happened.

So for almost 40 years I was on guard, worrying so nothing bad would happen to my family or the planet.  The thing is bad things did happen.  Relatives and good friends got sick and died.  People got in accidents and got hurt and God knows that the world is not in the shape it should be in.  So I finally went to my doctor who nodded and smiled and prescribed a pill.  I resisted at first.  I did not want to be one of those people who took pills to feel better.  But once I let the little white capsule do it's job I improved.  At one point I thought I was cured and convinced myself and my doctor that I could be weaned off the pills.  That was a mistake.  The anxiety came back with a vengeance.  So I went back on them and soon everything evened out.

I still worry.  I just worry about more realistic things.  I am able to put everything into context and to also rationalise my way to being calm.  All with the help from the pill.  Anxiety will appear now and then but for real reasons and because I am experience, I can even handle that after some deep breathing or a crying jag.

So Captain Worry hung up his cape sometime back.  Time to transition to a new persona.  What do you think of Major Common Sense?