I think it’s safe to say that I’m one of life’s natural born worriers: worrying is what I do, and, when I come to think about it, I do it pretty well. Perhaps I ought to call it a skill because, you know, it’s nice to have a skill.
For me, worrying is deep rooted. I’ve always done it, and therefore worrying has kind of become who I am. I can’t imagine me without worrying because me without worrying doesn’t make any sense. There’s always something to worry about, and, as those who know me well enough have joked in the past, I’m not happy unless I’m worrying about something.
In my mind, I don’t think worry makes me happy. Then again I know that making plans, and writing lists, and getting things organised makes the worry go away and, when the worry goes away I’m pretty much happy. I’m led to believe that ‘happy’ is what I’m searching for.
It sounds a bit like happily ever after doesn’t it?
Here’s a song
Love you lots, and all that stuff xxx