At any given time, I am worrying about eight different things. There are certain thoughts that have occupied one of those slots for years ("oh? This old worry? I've had that one for aaaaaaaaages. I don't even remember where I got it") but at least two or three slots are reserved for current crises.
But here's the interesting thing, when one crises is resolved--and even if it isn't "resolved" in the neat sense of the word; when the best or worst possibilities come true; when time moves along and I'm still moving forward and breathing and functioning--I learn nothing from it to apply to the other crises. I still worry just as much. I needlessly worry as if it's my job.
(Note to self: google "worry for pay" tomorrow when I get a second)
This past weekend something that had been occupying a slot happened and passed. I had spent hours worrying about it; hours crying about it; hours calling up old friends to catch up so I could spend some time talking about it with someone other than Josh who had endured enough 11 p.m. what if sessions. And it was a lovely day. The sky was blue. I wore a sundress. I came home happy.
Josh said to me: "what did you learn from this? That perhaps the worrying is for nothing and things work out in the end and when they don't work out, we keep living regardless?"
What I learned was that a slot was now free and I had to worry about which big ticket item to put in the empty space.
Dumber than a napkin.