COLUMN: Worrying is a worrisome thing

Abbotsford News editor Andrew Holota muses about why he worries so much.

COLUMN: Worrying is a worrisome thing

My resolution is not to worry as much in 2012.

You see, worrying is something in which I invest a considerable amount of spare time. I’m not sure why.

In the great big scheme of things, I don’t have all that much to worry about.

Secure job (maybe), great family (no doubt), decent health (so far).

No wars, no pestilence, no plagues of locusts.

So then, why worry?

Most of it is has to do with the job. When you do what I do for a living, there’s lots of stress. What will people think? Was it the right call? For that matter, what is “right?”

What did I forget to check? That’s a biggie… When you’re worrying about a lot of things, sometimes you forget what else you have to worry about. And that’s worrisome.

Worrying takes up valuable time, though, and I’m all about time management. I have to be. Generally, I just don’t have the time to worry, unless I’m multi-tasking, and worrying is one of the tasks.

So, I do the majority of my worrying between about 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. Nothing else to do at that time except sleep. Hence, my worrying doesn’t get in the way of more important things. I wake up and start thinking, and if I think long enough, ultimately that leads to something to be anxious about.

Mind you, losing sleep isn’t good, either. Makes me worry about my health.

In fact, all this worrying is undoubtedly unhealthy. Now there’s something worthy of concern.

Sometimes, when I run out of things to stress about, I make them up.

For example, not long ago I spent the weekend worrying about a column I wrote. I was recounting recollections from junior high, which ought to be rather benign. But I suddenly realized that what I had written about my junior high vice-principal was actually the principal. And the principal I remembered was actually the vice-principal at my secondary high school.

So, that got me to worrying what else I hadn’t recalled correctly.

I began to question whether my memory of teachers smoking in their staff room was actually accurate. I had this vivid mental image of standing there, in the doorway, talking to a teacher, and the room behind him was wafting in smoke.

However, with enough self-doubt, I almost had myself believing it was a false memory. I had somehow conjured it up in my mind over the decades. Maybe I was hallucinating from all the heavy drug use in my early years. But that didn’t make sense, since I didn’t have any heavy drug use. Or at least, I don’t remember any.

Well, that really got me to worrying. What else have I forgotten? It’s pretty unsettling to start doubting all your life memories…

But I didn’t get any calls telling me I was imagining things. So it must have been the way I remembered.

And then it occurred to me that if I’m not careful, I could easily conclude that if no one tells me I’m wrong, I must be right.

I know people who are like that.  And even if you tell them they’re wrong, they’re still right.

Sometimes, I’d like to be like that. It sure would make life a lot easier.

Anyway, don’t worry about me.

I’ll be alright.

It’s you I’m worried about.