|Big Cottonwood Canyon, June 10th, 2012|
Every night for the past 6 months I've gone to bed with a huge knot of anxiety in my stomach. Fear of the unknown, separation, stress over the cost of - everything really. Somehow and somewhere along the way I became a prolific worrier. I blame Connie. That sort of thing is genetic right?
I still have that ball of anxiety but for a different reason. Now I'm afraid that things are finally going so good, that the ball has to drop somewhere. I had a lightbulb moment a few weeks ago when I was talking to a friend about how we went through this huge thing as a family almost 4 years ago. I realized as I was talking about it, that it wasn't even a big deal anymore. Enough time had passed that we could finally file it away under "crap that happened that one time". Same thing for the 5 months we spent apart trying to buy this house, and the year and a half before that spent dealing with a host of other people's issues. It's a liberating thing to finally feel like you're in charge of your life again, to let go of the baggage you've been carrying around for months and years.
I'm being vague, and that's annoying. Let's just say I'm glad we are where we are; in this house with good (decent) jobs and tremendous friends and family. The point of all this is that I'd way rather worry about things going so good they couldn't possible get better so something will probably go wrong, than worry about how everything always goes wrong so how could it get worse, hypothetically speaking.