My daughter, Laura, doesn’t like change. Most of us don’t for that matter, but when she was a little girl, anything great or small that altered her universe, would send her into a tailspin for exactly two weeks. You could bank on it.
One time that stands out, happened when we made a major move from Missouri to northern California. We found that because of overcrowding in the public schools where we were going, it would be better for Laura, an upcoming fourth grader, to make the switch and attend private school.
First, there was the digging-her-heels-in and wrinkling-her-nose-in-protest-phase, followed by the argumentative, why-this-couldn’t-possibly-be-good-for-her-life, angle. (At that time, I was convinced if she had chosen to be a lawyer by profession, any firm would have gladly welcomed her.) Continue reading
I have been there before and visit far more often than I want. That place where my natural self has the gifted propensity to get tangled in knots. To go to the worst case scenario. To land in the mud puddle of worry, only to crawl out dripping with anxiety. To end up with a topsy-turvy bag full of unsettled emotions like Sebastian the crab, in Disney’s Little Mermaid when he announced with much drama, “My nerves are shot.”
My latest and greatest—even though sadly it seems to be quite commonplace, although for me was a first-time experience—landed me in the world of cyber-theft. Unaware of what was happening at the time, whether it was online or at a business I visited, somehow, my credit information was lifted allowing some dear person in a different state to live the easy life, enjoying gift cards, pizza, and a tank of gas at no cost to themselves. But on this end when all came to light, uneasiness began to creep into my mind, the what-ifs muddling my thoughts. Continue reading
When my two oldest children were in the throngs of dating, they managed to simultaneously find significant others who were terrible fits, not only for themselves but also for the two they were dating. Everyone could see it but them. Even their then 12-year-old brother saw right through the relationships and knew they were toxic. Continue reading
I used to worry All…The…Time. In fact, my sixth-grade teacher fussed at me about worrying. Her comments didn’t help. They only made me feel bad. I then worried about worrying about worrying. What a conundrum and downward spiral. For when the focus was on myself and how I could be better (i.e. not worry), I didn’t see the beauty of what was around me. Continue reading