Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Borrowin' Trouble


I have no idea where I first heard that expression, but it's a good one, isn't it? As in, don't borrow trouble.

Good advice if you're the sort of person who can heed it. Me? Nah. I'm a world-class fretter and obsessive worrier. I have the lines on my face to prove it. If I don't have a real thing to worry about, I'll create one. I'm not just one of your wake-up-at-two-a.m.-worriers. No, I worry all day long. I come up with imaginary scenarios that take me from point A (innocuous event) to point Z (horrible, dreadful, painful, death), stopping at every point of the alphabet on the way to visit yet another horrendous part of the story that COULD happen.

And all of this is at least part of the reason that planning Lily's wedding was so stressful for me. Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong with a wedding? None of them fatal- well, mostly none- but there are so many that if you add them up, it's almost unbearable. Toss in a new pain that had me convinced that I was indeed dying of a dread disease and you'll know why I was not fit to live with for the past few weeks.

But if the people around me think it's hard to live WITH me, they should try living AS me.
It's not easy. It sucks. All this worry is so toxic and I know it and I also know it does NO good whatsoever. It's not like I actually go see a doctor about any of the pains.

Oh hell no.

But today I had a real lesson in why worrying is just fruitless. Back in February, we realized we had a leaky propane gas tank and we were advised we might have to dig the whole thing up and replace it and all the lines, too. But first, we had to completely run out of gas so the tank would be empty. So I worried for months about just that. Running out of gas. I even wrote about it here. On top of the thought of having to do without the stove and the heater and the hot water, was the idea of having to spend at least a thousand dollars to fix the situation AND having to dig up a flower bed and take out part of a fence to do it.

But, we got through the cold and we even got through the wedding cake baking and that was seriously worrisome. Truly a possible catastrophe. But it didn't happen, even though we cut it really close because last night, not thirty-six hours after the last cake came out of the oven, the gas went out. Done.

I was so relieved that we'd gotten the cakes baked though, that I wasn't too upset. It's chilly here, but I just put on an extra jacket and my husband called the guy to come and get this project started. He was going to hook up a temp tank so I knew it would okay but it was still worrisome to think of spending all the money and having to dig up half the back yard.

Well, it ended up that the very, very nice man who came to fix things actually got the leaking gas gauge off without stripping the corroded bolts and this, THIS would fix the problem. He replaced the gauge, we got more gas in the tank and I am quite literally cookin' with gas again.
No problem.
He didn't even charge us.
And guess what? We don't even have a gas hot water heater. We have an electric one.

Ha!

You can't imagine the amount of psychic energy I've spent the last few months worrying about all of this. And for what?
For nothing.

I heard another expression lately which is a good one. It goes like this: don't put up your umbrella until it starts to rain.

I love that one too.
And I need to remember not to walk around all the time with my umbrella clutched in my trembling hands, up and ready for the inevitable downpour I am certain is about to occur.

It's never the things we worry about that jump out and get us. It's always something else. Or even if it's not, it has done no good whatsoever to fret and moan and make myself ill beforehand because there is little chance that all this catastrophising will change the outcome of anything anyway.

I fear however, that I was born to borrow trouble the way others are born to act or to rumble or to be wild. This doesn't mean that I can't make a conscious effort to calm my fears before they become full blown. That I can't at least try to talk myself out of pointless anxiety.

Because really, there's enough trouble in everyone's life to prevent the need for borrowing any.

Wait. I think I'm doing it again.

Step away from the umbrella, Ms. Moon. Just step away and no one will be hurt. It's a beautiful day and you don't need it.

Go take a hot bath. There's plenty of electricity.











.

4 comments:

  1. I figure, if you're worried about something you have three options:
    1. Do something about it, if that is possible at that moment.
    2. Don't do anything about it and continue to worry.
    3. See that there's nothing you can do about it at that moment and set it aside until it comes up.

    I make an effort to stay with 1 and 3 and remember that 2 does no one any good. It doesn't always work, but I never wake up at 2 worrying.

    And yay for easily fixed gas tanks!

    ReplyDelete
  2. "Don't go borrowin' trouble." Oh, not only do I borrow trouble, I am born to solve problems so if I don't have one laying around to solve, I can make 'em. That's not "borrowing trouble," that's "making trouble." Oh, dear. Time to take up meditation. I thought I would become more mature, more enlightened by my age, but I fear I'm slipping backwards. I resolve to neither borrow nor start trouble today.

    And that gas tank story could sooo easily have been ME! ;)

    ReplyDelete
  3. DTG- I looked at your youngest sibling the other day, right before the wedding. She was dancing around in the sunlight with that blissful expression on her face and I said, "Jesus, I wish I was as happy a person as you are."
    And I wish I had some of your disposition too.
    At least I haven't ruined both of you with my own The Sky Is Falling attitude.

    Ms. Lo- yeah, I've been known to make trouble too. Probably more than borrowing it, if the truth be known. But I've just never thought of it that way. Why AREN'T we getting smarter with age? Huh? What's up with that? I thought wrinkles were supposed to represent wisdom.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Maybe you just worry enough for all of us.

    Plus, you know, neither Jess or I have kids.

    ReplyDelete

Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.