WORRY NOT

I have always been a worrier. I have worried about important things, like the illness of a family member, a critical project at work, or concern about a teen-ager being out too late. Worry or stress has been shown to be useful, and can signal you to avoid danger or get into action, so I am fine with worrying about those kinds of things. But, like most people, I have engaged in many hours of absolutely useless worrying about unimportant things.

Research has shown that as people get older they are more satisfied with their lives. I hope that a reduction in worrying will be part of the improvement in life that I experience as a newly retired person.

To help me further my worry-reduction efforts, I looked back on my worrying career and analyzed my experience of useless worrying.  I found that this worrying had several sequential stages: anticipatory, early stage, intermediary, full-blown and relief. I will illustrate with two examples: what to wear at an upcoming professional conference and what to serve at a dinner party or family birthday celebration.

In my work as a research scientist I attended many conferences, and as the matriarch of a family with six grown children, most partnered, there are a lot of celebrations.

Anticipatory Worrying: The event is still far off, six months or more. It feels like worry is nibbling at the edges of my consciousness, mostly in the background, and, therefore, no sleep is lost.

I’m scheduled to present at a conference. Where should I buy the dress or suit? And what about my weight? I would like to lose some weight before I go shopping.

Then there’s the dinner party I am planning.  First, I gather a list of guests and their particular food needs. Our family has vegetarians, pescatarians, vegans, and gluten-free folks. I’m not too worried about the omnivores. Lucky for me there are some omnivores.

Early Stage of Worry: The event is now three-four months away. The specific items to worry about are emerging. Early “to do” lists are made so I can be sure to worry about all relevant elements. Plenty of time remains, and still no sleep is lost.

I’ll do a quick check in my closet and it reveals nothing I want to wear, so I need to go shopping. Some earnest worry begins, and since I now have a plan to lose weight, I don’t want to buy something that won’t fit well… so I put off shopping.

I have the guest list for the dinner party, but should I cook or ask people to bring things? Cater? Have it in my home or in a restaurant? Lots of items to fret about.

Intermediary Stage of Worry: The events are about two months away, and free-floating worry has begun, sort of an angst that I wake up with every day. Some sleep is now lost.

I go to a shop and start trying on things, but since there’s time, I don’t have to get something yet, and nothing looks quite right. Also, I am still trying to lose weight.

I need to make final decisions about whether to cater, cook or go out. The guest list is finalized. Since the event is a happy occasion, I try to enjoy this planning. But what gift should I get? Ah, another item for the to-do list.

Full-Blown Worry: The events are now about one month away, and substantial sleep is being lost. I have entered the acute stage of worrying.

I do more shopping, and at last, I buy something, that may or may not need alterations. I experience some relief. But what about a purse, shoes, jewelry?  I can ratchet up the worrying again, but now I have only a few weeks left, so I rush to get everything else I need.

Decisions about food have been made for the party. But something unexpected may happen at this stage, for example learning that some out-of-towners have decided to attend. Where will they sleep? How long will they stay and do I need to make plans for them? Also, some of the guests may not get along, will they make it uncomfortable for others?

Relief at Last: This usually comes on the eve of the event, since there’s not much left in terms of decisions to make. It lasts through the event period. All goes well.

The clothes for the conference were laid out and the speech finalized the night before the event. I am ready. 

As for the dinner party, arrangements are done, plans are set, and there is nothing more to do the night before. The dinner goes well and guests happily take home leftovers.

At this point it would appear that worrying is over, but it isn’t.

Regrets: Once an event has passed, I should be able to stop worrying. Not so. Regrets about conferences, speeches, and parties have worried me months and even years after the event. There was an event where I gave an excellent presentation, but in pictures of the event I thought the suit I wore didn’t look well on me. I still think about that. And I remember a dinner party where I had loads of shrimp, and I forgot to put out one of the shrimp dipping sauces. This was decades ago, and it still bothers me. I can’t call this worry, just useless regret, a different kind of “leftover” from events.

Cumulative Lifetime Worry: I estimate that overall I have engaged in worry at least 3 days a week, for an average of 30 minutes daily, although some episodes have lasted through substantial parts of the night. Some of this worry time was significant and legitimate. But most of my worry time was for unimportant things, adding up to years of my life. What I could have done with that time!

Worry Space Available: I have discovered that after some worries dissipate, there is always space available for new ones, so that the overall quantity of worry does not decrease. For example, if I was worried about an upcoming event, after it is over there is some breathing room created, but soon the space operates like a vacuum, searching for and sucking up a new worry. That’s quite amazing. If they could invent an air balloon with this feature, you would never need to worry about it getting punctured, losing air and descending, as a new influx of air would immediately fill all the available space.

So what’s to be done to reduce useless worrying? I have some ideas:

1. I will accept the fact that I will never be worry-free. In small doses, for appropriate purposes, worry is helpful. I will use it to signal me to take needed actions.

2. I will allow myself, in the midst of the acute stage, to seek symptom relief (candy bars and alcohol for me), but only in moderation. I will still deal with the concerns.

3. I will think about what I could accomplish and enjoy if some of that worry time was used to do things I like and be with people I care about.

4. I will reduce stress by following the guidelines many health organizations have published on stress reduction methods such as exercise and relaxation techniques.

5. I will not worry about any of this. I have started retirement with many interests and activities: traveling, writing, socializing. All of these are serving to reduce my worry space. Furthermore, in retirement, I do not have to attend any conferences and my children now invite us to their dinner parties. Yay to that. Worry not.