“People worry for only two
reasons. Either they stand to lose
something they want to keep, or they stand not to gain something they want.”
Nido
Quebin
I’ve
Been Thinking . . . about all of the things I could be worrying about. However, I’ve decided not to waste the
energy. That may sound incredibly
disciplined. Not really. I learned the hard way that worry is wasted
energy that resolves absolutely, positively nothing.
As
a teenager I struggled with an addiction called worry. I could worry about almost anything, almost
all the time. It was great having me in
the family so I could do all the worrying for everyone. I figured it was my God-given privilege to
bear the load.
I
recall a personal dilemma in high school that gave me reason to shift my worrisome
lifestyle into high gear. Homecoming was
just around the corner and I wanted to ask Judy to attend the activities with
me. But, I convinced myself of several
reasons why Judy would turn me down (a common practice of professional
worriers). However, mustering what
little courage I possessed deep inside, I decided to go for it. Of course, I could never ask her face to
face. It would be too devastating to be
face to face when she declined my invitation.
My
heart was pounding and my mouth went dry as I dialed Judy’s number. Maybe she wouldn’t be home. I’ll bet someone has already asked her. Her mother will never let her go out with
me. “Hello, Judy,” I said, my voice
shaking; “You wouldn’t want to go with me to homecoming would you?”
“I’d
love to,” Judy replied. “You would?” I
responded recognizing the surprise in my voice.
“Good. I’ll talk to you later.”
You
might think this was the end of my worry campaign but the anxiety had just
begun. I began worrying about the meal,
the dance, and finally how I would give Judy a good night kiss. I invested a multitude of energy into
possible approaches for kissing Judy when the evening was over. I finally decided on a romantic approach but
was convinced, as good as it was, that rejection was eminent.
I
was only fifteen at the time, so Judy and I double-dated with friends. As the evening’s activities drew to a close,
we made our way back to Judy’s home.
Driving into the driveway, I immediately noticed her father had turned
on the yellow bug light above the front door. I hadn’t planned on this less
than romantic addition to my plan. But I
was determined to go forward. It had
been a fabulous evening and I wasn’t about to let it end without a goodnight
kiss.
Judy
and I stood facing each other. It was
time to implement my plan. “Judy,” I
began, “Oh that I had ten thousand eyes to behold you with, my dear.” (Not bad for a fifteen year old). “Judy, I wish I had ten thousand arms to hold
you with, my dear.” I knew it was
working because Judy just looked at me with a blank expression on her
face. Finally, I said, “Oh Judy, oh that
I had ten thousand lips to kiss you with my dear!”
To
this day, I’ll never forget her response.
Judy looked me square in the eye and with passion in her voice replied,
“Glenn, why don’t you use what you have!”
And
I did.
I
learned a lot about worry and fear that night.
Ralph Waldo Emerson was right when he said, “Do the thing you fear the
most and the death of fear is certain.”
That simple advice can alleviate an unnecessary waste of energy. Action is worry’s antidote. Substitute positive action for worry and you’ll
find the anxiety begin to subside.
“It doesn’t pay to
worry. If you went through last year’s
files marked “important,” chances are the only things you’d keep are the paper
clips.”
Robert
Orben
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