There's no doubt I have a lot on my mind that I'm not sure how to sort through it. I visualize inside my head many file cabinets to put my thoughts into once I have overcome the stress and worry. They are neatly tucked away and the drawer is shut. Whatever issue was consuming my emotional well-being was resolved and finished. You'd think after so many years in recovery, so many books read, years of church attendance and volunteering and leading others, so many times reading and memorizing scripture, so many years of therapy and hospitalizations, that the worry and fear of having done something wrong and feeling like someone is mad at me when there is not one shred of evidence wouldn't enter my head and I wouldn't feel sick to my stomach. I am thinking it now. Not just about a person but about my life. As it is today. Compared to no one. The blog I wrote about legalizing same sex marriage....that was raw. I don't share that part of my past because I'm afraid of what my friends will think of me. I feel sad inside. I know I can spout out all of the positive I've seen God do in and through me and yet....I still feel sad. I need to have a serious talk with one of my doctors. I don't want to do it because I'm afraid. Afraid that if I confront the unacceptable situation I was put in, he'll drop me as a patient. I tell myself that he'd want to know what I have to say and in three years I've trusted him for my mental care and not once was the ball dropped. This was a big drop....I feel afraid. My car has a repair list that requires money I don't have. Suspension, brakes, side mirror and other things I can't remember. I feel helpless and afraid. It's not like God hasn't provided for my every need because He's done that and beyond. It's not like I have friends who are willing to help and reassure me not to worry. It just reminds me of the mental illness and back disabilities that caused me to not be able to work anymore. I remember the day God gave me that car. I remember the girls at work all wanting a ride so we piled in and cranked the tunes. I remember the day I paid it off - the day the title arrived in the mail. You see, the engine runs perfectly and only has 124K. The last Saturn I owned got up to 250K. All good things. And yet....I feel scared, helpless and afraid. I keep telling myself that other people would love to switch places with me. Their problems are a lot more complex or involve their family or where they'll live or their health. So I guess there's only one thing left to say: The art of worrying is the result of not trusting that everything is going to be okay.
