Let’s talk about: Worry Sickness
I have been catching myself saying or thinking “I’m worried about…” quite often. “I worry about… I’ve worried about… I’m worried I’ll worry about…”.
Okay, maybe not that much, but, enough to notice. To point it out.
When I say it, sometimes I mean, “I’m thinking about”. Or “I’m anticipating”. Or “I’m genuinely concerned that this might be a problem soon or someday”.
I’m starting to wonder if I should make an effort to change my lingo. My jargon. The way I think and talk about what’s on my mind… could maybe use a little tending.
Because when I say, “I’m worried about…” and I say it to another person, I have now also planted a seed of worry in them.
Inadvertently. Unintentionally.
I don’t want someone else to worry for me, with me, about me… that’s not helpful!
I have now said, “I have this idea, and also I’m feeling worried”. That’s not fair. To them or to me. It’s not my intention to spread seeds of worry. Worry is a prickly sticker. Like a forget-me-not.
Forget-me-nots are pretty little periwinkle flowers that, when left to their own devices, turn to seed and spread like wildflowers. Well, cuz they are wildflowers. The thing is? Those beautiful, delicate little flowers are burs. The flowers bloom, the seeds (or burs) develop. Then they dry up and sprinkle the area around them. A lot. (Sidequest: my middle son and I planted forget-me-not seeds, let time get away from us, and noticed later they’d overgrown, gone to seed, and become burs. Whoops).
If a passing creature, like an unassuming cat or pair of pants or shoelaces, wanders by, the burs latch on and are carried off. The seeds are spread far and wide, nature working as intended. That’s survival! One bur is quick and easy - notice it, pick it off, dispose of it. Mindlessly toss it in the dirt, and then someday pass by some beautiful unexpected clusters of flowers, continuing the cycle indefinitely.
Forget-me-nots might not be a big concern. They’re flowers. Maybe burs aren’t such an inconvenience. But as we notice the Worry Burs, maybe it’s an opportunity to stop that cycle?
Maybe one forget-me-not is enough, but a forest of them? They become blockers. They take nutrients. They take up space and sunshine. They start to feel like… a bit of a nuisance. This well-meaning pretty little flower. And once they’ve taken over… invasive (malicious? I don’t think it’s intentional). But once something like that, an idea, something prickly, sticky, and spready… has taken over… it feels like it’ll take an act of god, a diligent hand pulling weeds, or a small fire… to clear them out.
Replace the Worry Burs?
Is that what I mean when I say, “I worry sometimes about… healthcare, the future, aging, dying, our systems, our planet, time…”. Is that what I want to do? Spread worry burs?
It’s time for a new word, a new seed, an opportunity to plant HOPE. To plant good seeds. Seeds of thriving. Planning where they’ll go, sometimes tossing them over the shoulder and leaving their fate to the wind, but, also being intentional.
Looking forward.
What might this garden look like? What might the next generation’s garden look like?
With a vision for the future, even a future we might not experience directly, we have an opportunity to choose our words (and seeds) and create a garden of hope.
What does it look like? Where will I plant it?
Plant good seeds!
Love,
Jessie
Worry Burs