Wednesday, 31 December 2014


I worry a lot. It has always been this way since I was young.

When I was young, the most 'prominent' worry happened after my father passed away. I worry about losing my mother too, my only other parent. Sometimes when she's sleeping I will observe to see if her chest is rising and falling, to check that she is alive. There was no panic, just something that I do regularly.

When I started working, I worried about the quality of my work. Worried that I cannot hit the targeted number of interviews each time month end is coming, worried that the data deviates from previous months' data. Worried that I screwed up.

When I got married, I worried about money. When I was young someone once told me that I will never get rich, or I will be poor, I can't really remember which one and who told me that. From then I subconsciously told myself that I must make sure that doesn't happen. My husband and I are very different when it comes to money matters. He doesn't worry about not having enough, while I constantly worry about it. I am always aware of the little savings that we have, that we will be in trouble if ever a rainy day comes.

When I have children, I worry about everything about them. When triggered by child kidnapping news, I create scenarios in my head where I imagine my children suffering. Then I tell myself to always be vigilant and make sure no such things happen to them. When I see plane crash news, I imagine my children with me on the plane when such things happen. I debate whether I will shorten their pain by ending their life first or whether I will hold on to the last because we might be able to escape and swim above water. It's crazy, I know, but I think that's being a parent.

When Bobby is old, I worry about him being in pain and when to euthanize him. At some points I was very sad about it and it made me cry. After that somehow I turned a corner and understood that it is not the worst thing that will happen when we put him to sleep. But I do think about how I will do it when the time comes, to do it unplanned or to make an appointment for it. It feels weird and terribly sad knowing that he will be dead in xx days at xx time. 

And of course I worry about my mother's health constantly. I know I will miss her most when she is not around. I will want to cook a dish and I will want to talk to her but she won't be around. And even though I do not depend on her anymore, it is very comforting to know that my mother is around. I will feel strangely like an orphan when she moves on.

Old age happens. To people, to animals. I accept that my mother will move on someday, and I am ever so grateful that she is in relatively good health with good mobility and very good spirits these years. I also accept that we will one day put Bobby to sleep. But Bobby is not in as good spirits as my mother. I do not know if he is still happy. I hardly see him wag his tail or hang out his tongue anymore. He doesn't show his joy when going downstairs anymore. And he doesn't show joy when I pet him. But the day before though, he showed joy when we came home. So when is the right time to let him go? I really do not know.

Worry less! I tell myself ever so often. Lighten up! This is life! Be grateful that there are things in life for me to worry about. This means my life is meaningful. Be done with writing and move on to other things apart from worries!

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