I am a worrier. I have always been a worrier. I worry about being late. I worry when someone else is late. I worry about being wrong. I worry about things going wrong. I worry about saying the wrong thing and offending someone. I worry about conflict and confrontation.
I worry that I’m going to forget to pick up one of my kids. I worry about how I’m going to talk to my kids about where babies come from and about drinking and drugs. I worry that I’m not doing a good enough job maintaining friendships that are SO important to me. I worry about the fact that I am going to have to cook dinner for a growing family (as in “the current members are growing,” not as in “we’re going to have more members”) almost every single night for like the next 18 years. (After that, KJ is on his own.)
I worry about my kids… about their health and their happiness and about potentially losing them at a pumpkin patch (I swear, that totally did not happen this past Sunday for approximately 58 scary seconds). I worry about them getting sick and me not being able to help them. I worry that KJ will realize that I’m not nearly as fun as I used to be and leave me for someone who is (I’m sure he’s already done the realizing part). I worry about things changing when I really want them to stay the same.
At this point, I know you’re either…
a) shaking your head and thinking, “Wow, I had no idea kmac was such a nutcase”
b) nodding your head and saying, “Me too!” in which case, let’s get a latte together sometime
c) thinking, “Wow, I signed on to read funny parenting stories… I’m outta here.”
If you’re in that latter group, I SO don’t blame you. I’d check out of this Crazy Town too if I could.
The bottom line is I am always worried about that other damn shoe dropping.
I was discussing this anxiety with a friend today and she asked a great question, “Why can’t we just accept that life is good? Why are we always so sure that something shitty is going to happen?”
For me, I think it’s because life is SO good. I have so much to be grateful for … it always feels like it can’t possibly last. (These are the Sugar Days, remember?)
My friend thinks it’s a protective measure we take so that when something bad does happen, we’re prepared. We’re all, “Oh hey Shitty Thing, I’ve been waiting for you… bring it!” (Doesn’t that make perfect sense? My friend is really very smart.)
Lately, I’ve been having very vivid dreams (nightmares) about being diagnosed with cancer.
The dreams vary in plot; I get all different kinds of cancer in all different scenarios. Sometimes my kids are still young, sometimes they’re much older. Sometimes my prognosis is good, sometimes not. Sometimes I dream about how to tell my family. Sometimes I dream about whether I should discuss it on Facebook or not.
I hope we can still be friends.
I don’t know why I’m having so many of these dreams lately.
Maybe because it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month and I’ve been seeing a lot of pink?
Maybe because of the breast cancer storyline on Parenthood? (I love that damn show, but it is KILLING me. I can barely see the laundry I’m folding through my tears as I watch it.)
Or maybe it’s because the weather is colder, so we’ve had to pull out The Monster, which is an enormous, heavy blanket my Mom made for me when she was sick.
Sometimes I wonder if my dreams are all part of a weird premonition… that maybe I’m PSYCHIC and the dreams are a sign that I really am going to get cancer! If that’s the case, at least I’ll be able to say “OK kmac, you saw this coming, you can totally handle it.” (Oh hey Shitty Thing, I’ve been waiting for you… bring it!)
So this afternoon, I Googled “dreaming about cancer” and found this at dreammoods.com:
To dream that you have cancer denotes hopelessness, grief, self-pity, and unforgiveness. You feel you are wasting your life away. This dream also represents areas in your life which are bothering you, disturbing you, and hurting you in some emotional way.
Great news! My dreams don’t mean that I’m actually going to get cancer! Yea!
They just mean that I’m hopeless and unforgiving and OH, that I’m wasting my life away.
Now I have something else to worry about.
OK, so please tell me I’m not alone over here… anyone else living a normal, happy life but plagued by dreams of Shitty Things happening?
PS. It’s worth noting, that there are a couple of special people in my life for whom battling cancer is NOT just a nightmare. It’s their real life, right now. And I worry about them too even though they’re kicking ass.