What, Me Worry?

I woke up twice last night.  Worries have a way of slipping into your dreams and saying “Wake up!  Zombies are chasing you!” or “Hey, all your hair fell out.  Have a nice day.”  I lay in bed and looked at the clock for a while; checked my Ipod for messages.  Thank God my worries can’t text. “Oh, did I wake you?  Hey! You’re going to die alone! Bwahahahaha!”.

I hope I don't get eaten by a lion or taken as a sex slave. Have a nice day!

Maybe my coping mechanism is stripped from trying to tighten it with the wrong tools.  Last year, my body seemed to think that it would be easier to carry this heavy burden if my ass was bigger.  “Lower the center of gravity and give her a wide stance so she doesn’t fall over” it seemed to say.  Maybe I need to learn how to carry the burden more effectively, like those smiling African women with 25 pounds of wet laundry on their heads.

We want your laundry!

I’ll try that after I get my car out of the shop.  The car thing is particularly heavy.  Sure, I don’t have to worry about death by ants or being raped by a gang of machine gun wielding ruffians in Hello Kitty shirts and Vera Wang wedding gowns (well, not today anyway).  But I was enjoying flitting about the self-actualization apex of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  Now I am lucky to have a grip on breathing and excretion.

Maslow's Hierarchy of Shit to Worry About

I’m not the only one with problems, but others seem to be able to carry their burdens with ease.  Sometimes it’s not the weight of the burden, but the distribution of that weight; heavy on the heart or heavy on the mind. Heavy on both is particularly crushing.  If I could condense my worries I’m sure that they would have the density of a black hole and others would shun me for fear of being sucked in.  Maybe I need to embrace my worries; mold them into something more portable like a dung beetle.  Then I wouldn’t have to carry them.  They could just roll along with me and even as they dwarfed my tiny figure, people would look at my worries and say “Hey, nice pile of shit.”

This would be a lot easier if you weren't riding on it, Asshole.