I should be worried about this post. Just kidding, I’m not.

I’ve been writing these weekly posts for 10 years this month, 518 blog entries, half a million words, 5 good-sized novels…

I love that you allow me to share my views and inner thoughts, that you agree or disagree with me, smile or grimace at my words…

… so why would I worry now? Well…

I was a nervous child.

Like my mother, I worried. Mom was a champion worrier. Mom could fret with the best.

I’ll likely never measure up to my mother’s worry quotient… and this is a good thing. I’m sure that worrying was one contributing factor to her early demise.

There are worries and there are WORRIES.

We spend a large part of our lives endeavouring to split the hairs of distinction between those two that allows us to sleep at night.

Worrying is a protective defence mechanism that is useful, but only to a point.

Worry is like a hammer that can help build something beautiful in our lives or the same tool with which we *oh f&%k* whack our thumb.

When procrastination settles in, worrying can be positively motivating so that we reach our goals. Worrying can be useful when something needs to be done to protect our physical or mental wellbeing. As long as worry begets action, I’m on board.

But we need to protect ourselves against over-thinking and over-worrying when it prevents us from living a life that leaves us fulfilled and enthusiastic about where we’ve been, what we’ve done, and where we’re headed.

As a kid:

• I worried and obsessed about classroom presentations.

I liked schoolwork and projects, I just never wanted to stand at the front of a class and tell others about my wondrous intellectual discoveries and achievements… I froze in my worry.

• I worried about whether Dale Curry liked me in Grade 1 the way I liked her (I’m pretty sure she did, I was extremely charming then!).

I liked girls a lot but throughout my teen years never had the male swagger that allowed me to ask someone out on a date until I was 110% sure I would get a big YES!

• I worried about whether all my newspaper customers would pay me and I’d have the money together to send off to the Hamilton Spectator office on time.

I was never arrested for late payments, so I’m certain my childhood credit rating was stellar.

These were lowercase worries, but inside the head of a youngster they felt the same as the much larger, more consequential worries that came along in later life.

This is the thing about worry. Large or small, when it happens inside your own head, they all FEEL HUGE.

It’s akin to the axiom about how surgeries are minor except the ones being done to ourselves.

After I bought my first car (1967 Rambler American) at 17, I constantly worried that it would break down and where would I get the money for repairs.

This really was a bona fide situation for worry. I was living on the razor’s edge money-wise in my late teen years.

Later, as a young adult and professional medical laboratory technologist, I would sometimes lay awake in bed after being called in to work during the night to perform a blood cross-match. What if my bleary eyes made a mistake, even a little one?

A bleeding patient in need of an emergency blood transfusion called for a rapid lab response where a very minor error on my part could result in doing far more damage to the patient than their car accident or GI bleed had already created.

I worried that I would arrive for my morning hospital shift to the news that “my” overnight patient had died from a botched crossmatch.


Telling me or anyone not to worry is a fool’s game and a total aggravation. No one wants to be told this. Worry turns to fury at the sound of these words.

Life has a rhythm and flow… worrying joins in the song of life for better or worse… usually a tsunami of worry is thankfully followed by a quiescent period of restoring calm.

There are lots of means of coping with our worries that I won’t go into here.

The internet (and greater experts than myself, like Jim Ferguson) will direct you to a myriad of possible solutions … however, one salve I will add is one of my favourite maxims that covers a great deal of ground…


… every worry I’ve ever experienced in life has subsided or succumbed to these 4 simple words…

Thanks for hanging with me for these past 10 years… I appreciate it- and you– more than you know.