Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Worry Wart

I'm a worrier.  I've always been a worrier.  I vividly remember laying in bed at the age of fifteen worrying about the possibility (not even an actual plan- just the possibility) of having to take driver's ed and thinking that it would probably be easier if I just died in my sleep.  Um.  What the hell is that?  Who in their right mind, given the choice between driver's ed and death, chooses frickin' death?!?  Clearly I was not in my right mind.  I was fifteen.

But I'm still a worrier.  I no longer see dying in my sleep as the preferable alternative to, say, going to the dentist.  But I worry.  A lot.  I fret.  I'm a fretter.  But here's the thing.  90% of the stuff I worry about is STUPID SHIT.  It's probably understandable when I get nervous belly and break out in a cold sweat because my baby has woken up with croup in the middle of the night.  That seems relatively normal.  But having an almost identical reaction to starting a new job?  That seems excessive.  And dumb.  And possibly worthy of medication.

Internet, I am a wreck.  I am a wreck for no reason, whatsoever.  I am a wreck because, essentially, I have a hard time with change.  I struggle with transitions.  It appears that I am no different from my children and am, essentially, a giant toddler.

This realization is unpleasant.

When I think back to all the things I've had idiotic, ill-placed panic attacks about, they all have to do with change.  I suck at it.  And I've sucked at it for as long as I can remember.  I like to be in my comfy place.  I like predictability.  I like familiarity and routines.  I like home and family and stuff that is NOT BRAND NEW AND HARD AND SCARY.  Which is sad, really, because life is hard and brand new and scary the majority of the time.  Especially with kids.

What's extra funny is that I seem to be able to handle some really difficult things relatively well.  I haven't been perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but things have been pretty rough around these parts since the Little One was born, and I've handled the majority of it pretty well.  Then we decide that I need to get a part time job- stat!- and I fall apart.  What's that all about?

My parents have always told me that, as a kid, I handled every injury in the exact same way.  According to them, paper cuts and broken bones received the same broo-ha-ha.  A gross overreaction in the case of the paper cut, but a damn brave little gal for the broken bone.  Perhaps my responses to life are measured in much the same way.  When things get really ugly, I seem to be handling it pretty well.  When things are just mediocre, I go off the deep end.  Crap.

All this to say... I'm starting a new job.  Another new job.  For a couple weeks I will have three jobs, (which... AHHHHHH!!!!) but I'm leaving "that store" in three weeks (because I miss my husband and my children and weekends and I cannot take any more "Mommy!  Don't leave me to go to that store!!!) and will then only have two jobs.  One of which will be periodic and at my leisure.  With weekends.  Mostly.

So.  Another new job.  Tutoring.  And I'm crazy nervous and I shouldn't be.  It has everything to do with what I've always done, but instead of 150 kids, I'll have two.  And I will be working with them one at a time.  I can do this.  I know I can do this.  But I'm suddenly terribly frightened that I'm going to fail them, AND I DON'T WANT TO FAIL THE LITTLE CHILDREN.  They're little, you guys.  Just getting started on this crazy business of life and school.  If I mess this up, they may never get to Harvard.  AND IT WILL BE ALL MY FAULT.  Damn it.


  1. It's scary how closely this illustrates how I handle problems. Last minute changes like a kid throwing up moments before walking on stage or pouring down rain when the parade is about to start and I am totally fine, but when someone changes the overall plan I get very stressed out. I'm good under pressure, not so great long term. =) Good luck, my friend. You will LOVE tutoring, it's a total blast.

    1. Why? Why can I not handle changes in overall plans? PLANS ALWAYS CHANGE. Hmph. Glad to know I'm not entirely alone, though. Perhaps we can crumble together? With chocolate?

      Also, met my first student who is so super adorable that I can't handle it. It's looking up. ;)

  2. Wow. Dying to avoid driver's ed? Intense. I only ever contemplated death as a means of making everyone around me SO SORRY for the way they had treated me. (Feel free to judge Teenage Kate. Heaven knows I do.)

    Honestly, though, I don't know a single person in their 30s who claps for joy and shrieks, "Yippy skippy! Change!" It's tough. It's terrifying. And it's worse, I think, once you've had kids. I like to think it's instinctive. We want to provide stability for the wee ones, therefore we hate it when our world gets shaken, tilted, etc.

    1. I know, right? Teenage Kate, there is no judgment here. I was certifiable.
      This version of Teenage Me also wore a lot of black. And listened to a lot of Depeche Mode and Cure and Tori Amos. And was reading Dante's Inferno instead of talking to people. So.

      Change is lame. Spontaneous, I am not. I ADORE stability and crave it like a giant Oreo Blizzard. But mostly I'd just like things to be a little easier so I can go ahead and calm the hell down.

      Excuse me, I need to go listen to "Disintegration" now.