Worrying — Useless Human Emotion

I read somewhere that worrying is the most useless human emotion. Worrying does no good in the eventual outcome of things. So why do we do it? (I don’t know!) I try not to, but sometimes I can’t seem to help it. I always wished to be one of those people who never seem to worry at all. Why do we replay sad or bad times in our minds? Same type of thing. What good will it do? At least, with the latter, I suppose there’s the chance of a learning experience, acceptance, processing, coming to terms, closure. There may actually some benefit there. But worrying? What good is it?

I read somewhere that worrying is the most useless human emotion. Worrying does no good in the eventual outcome of things. So why do we do it? (I don’t know!) I try not to, but sometimes I can’t seem to help it. I always wished to be one of those people who never seem to worry at all. Why do we replay sad or bad times in our minds? Same type of thing. What good will it do? At least, with the latter, I suppose there’s the chance of a learning experience, acceptance, processing, coming to terms, closure. There may actually some benefit there. But worrying? What good is it?

It’s been my experience that the things we worry about never come to pass as we imagine. When bad things happen, we must deal with them in whatever fashion we’re able. No matter how much worrying we did before the event; it usually wasn’t effective preparation, not very helpful in the actual instance.

When I was young, I worried about my parents (who were quite a bit older than other kids’ folks). I worried about my dog, my parakeet, schoolwork and grades, getting into college, what paths to take in life, money, things like that. I don’t remember actually worrying about boys or dates. But I suppose I did. Later I worried about the Viet Nam war, the world in general, then my ex-husband, the children, our pets, and always, my aging parents.

As I’ve grown older, I might worry a tiny bit less. I’m not exactly sure when this happened, but now I seem calmer somehow (most of the time). My children are grown and not a concern 24/7 in the same way as before. Of course I love them and want the best for them. But they don’t need or want my constant care and attention now. My parents are sadly gone. So worrying about them has been supplanted with missing and remembering with love and affection. Sometimes I worry about my friends, but not usually with the depth and angst I reserve almost exclusively for my family.

Previously I worried whenever things broke around here. I worried even BEFORE a possible event! What if a pipe froze and burst? What if the cows got out? What if we needed to repair a fence or change leathers on the windmill? As each of these things happened (and more, believe me), I realized that we’d do whatever was necessary to make things right. I learned to count on Zack for help, a novel and wonderful situation for me. I think Zack is one of the main reasons I worry less. I have this wonderful man to share everything, even the worry. He worries right alongside me. And he’s much better at it! This is to say he’s so much worse than I ever was about worrying, I barely need to do it any longer at all! Or at least not so much.

When Zack became ill and I took care of everything from cattle to bills to insurance to pets to the lawn to being his advocate and caregiver in hospitals and later at home, there was no time to worry as much as I might have. It was like any new situation where it’s necessary to settle in and experience a few crises. Then you realize things are going to turn out one way or the other, despite all the worrying in the world. You substitute action for worry, roll with the punches, and try to keep up. This requires much energy, leaving less time for worrying.

I think perhaps we all reach an age at which we’ve experienced enough pain, joy, loss —and LIFE—that we realize we’ll deal, the best we can, with what’s thrown at us, that worrying won’t be that much help.

Gene Ellis, Ed.D is a Bosque County resident who returned to the family farm after years of living in New Orleans, New York, and Florida. She’s an artist who holds a doctoral degree from New York University and is writing a book about the minor catastrophes of life. Check out Genie’s blog at  http://rusticramblings.wordpress.com/.