I am a fretter. While I have a tremendous sense of faith and confidence on so many areas of life, there are instances every year since law school that I really get lost in the act of fretting. This only happens over certain events though, and generally speaking, I don't really think I live with anxiety. But it happens, and it has gotten worse since Sadie was born. I pretty much spent my entire maternity leave fretting and researching Sadie's birthmark on her face (a hemangioma) while she sat in the swing or jumpee seat beside my computer. It is probably the only thing I regret in life is wasting so many of those days.
On the other hand, I am adventurous and spontaneous about so many facets of my life. And I am happy-go-lucky-come-what-may about so many other areas. But the things that I choose to fret about, I really take fretting to the extreme. And it isn't events like taking the Bar or running a marathon that bring it on. Even in the high stress environment created by being a partner at a law firm, there are only a handful of times that work has ever stressed me out, and every one of them was really driven by events outside of work that were happening at the same time. Everyone who has seen the great disarray inside of my office (and currently, my house) would know that I am pretty far from being OCD. And my nickname in college was Millie, given to me by my sophomore hall for my propensity to mill around instead of buckling down to study and complete assignments. Study breaks were really much more my thing.
But somehow between youth and now, between living-blind-to-consequences and being-a-grown-up, I developed a real ability to fret about things. Unfortunately, most of the time, they are things that I haven't much, or any ability, to really control.
And that's been the last few weeks for us. The Summer Of Change drew to a close and we made so many transitions, me to a new job and leaving partnership to begin at a new firm as a part-time of counsel, all of us losing our nanny for the last nearly 3 years and Sadie forming a new bond with a new sitter who would be with her during the afternoons since Sadie would be in preschool 5 mornings a week. September was earmarked for transition, and I thought that we would be all settled in by October to experience our favorite three months of the year and all the holidays that they contain.
But Daisy has been stricken with repeated urinary tract infections, so that she will finish a course of antibiotics for one week only to display the tell tale signs of an infection the next weekend, and Mark again was a the emergency vet with her last night for three hours and nearly $700 later as they checked for what the doctors believe might be something as serious as cancer. Sadie has the first of many coughs and colds. And along with this wonderful phase of talking in depth about everything under the sun and really understanding concepts, she asks the most troubling questions about why do people leave, why do things die, why do people get mad, and does so-and-so still love her (much of the time, it is me she is asking about). These things are keeping me up at night, as I lay there and wonder if we have scarred her by all of these changes, are we making the right decisions for her and for us, and will I regret them one day. And while I spent the summer really targeting my cholesterol and getting that number down after a physical in June, other numbers are creeping up and I have realized that even with my daily exercise (well ok, most days), I feel old, and if it isn't one ailment that shows up, its a freaking other one. It is driving me crazy.
Last Wednesday I spent the morning volunteering in Sadie's class, and it was the best day that I have had in months. But I had to laugh when Mark pointed out that of course it was fun, the teachers did all the work preparing the class for me and all I had to do was waltz in as the volunteer and sit down to a class full of behaving children while I read Corduroy.
And so, I continue to fret. I tell myself to worry about the things that I can actually change and not those that I can't, and instead of just worrying, to write down steps of things I can do to change them, and then act. But its hard. I saw this picture and I wished that getting over this difficult phase was as easy as attaching myself to this contraption and then jumping with all my might for 10 minutes like Sadie did. But in reality, that hasn't stopped her questioning, and it would likely not stop mine either.
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