More often than not, even when all my homework is done,
daily chores are taken care of, and Bible verses are read, I lie awake for a
while in my room while the rest of the town is asleep. Worry and doubt cloud my
mind and hinder my ability to drift into the beauty of unconsciousness. Some of
my worry is rooted in genuine necessity, but some of it is simply me worrying
about things I can’t change. Deep down I know that laying there making myself
even more sleep deprived isn’t solving anything whatsoever, but it isn’t enough
to make me stop. I am a worrier, a title I am neither proud of nor ashamed of.
I worry about homework, whether it’s college or high school,
and whether it’s my grades or an upcoming paper, project, or assignment. I
worry about my family, certain members more frequently than others. I worry
about my pregnant cousin and my little brothers. I worry about my parents, and
my grandparents. I worry about my friends, especially when they are being
challenged by hard times. I worry about my close friend, and how he works too
much and neglects many parts of his life because of it. I worry about the
decisions he makes and how he chooses to deal with the stress he’s under right
now. I worry about being in love. I worry about the future, quite a lot
actually. I worry about my career, finances, moving out, college, a place to
live, and more. I worry about everyone and everything at times it seems.
Sometimes I honestly worry for the whole world. What a weight on my shoulders,
to feel pain for an entire planet. Finally, when everyone else has been fussed
over, I sometimes worry about myself. I worry about physical changes and what
caused them. I worry about the feelings I feel sometimes. I worry about
dissecting myself and tearing myself down. I worry I’m somehow insulting God by
not just entrusting my problems completely to Him, and getting them off my
mind. I worry I’ll never be able to stop worrying and just let go.
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