Worry

I used to not care.

That’s not accurate.

It used to be that I would not get concerned about the future. I would do what I could do, and however it worked out, it would be what it was. Perhaps it was a bit zen or Daoist. Perhaps it was more of a lackadaisical world view.

The older I get the more anxious I have become.

10 years ago I worried about August getting accepted into the school. (For those of you who don’t know, the kids go to Catholic school, and you have to apply. We were members of the parish and had become involved by the time we applied for our kids to go there.) People told us we were foolish to worry about getting accepted. Of course he would get in.

He did.

The following year it was Déla’s turn.

And I worried almost as much about her getting in. Yes, despite having a sibling in the school and continuing to be involved in the parish.

Two years later Ciarán – and again I worried. 

As in my stomach was in knots.

And this wasn’t the only time this happened.

I have found myself increasingly worried about things that would have never bothered me before. Things that most people probably don’t even think twice about.

It wasn’t until we were applying for Xavier to get into the school that I started to ease off on the worrying, but even then I felt anxious until that letter came in.

Oh, sure, there are the normal parental anxieties about having your 15 year old learning to drive, the two year old becoming potty trained, the friendship problems your kids face, etc. Those come with the territory, and that is normal.

Last year when applying for high schools there was really only one choice for August. And despite everything (good grades, belonging to a “feeder” school, lower enrollment to the high school) I was still on pins and needles until his acceptance letter came.

I have found myself at a heightened level of anxiety over stupid things, such as finding a parking spot at swim lesson, making sure the recycling is out for pickup, things like that.

And now we are applying to high schools for Déla and while my brain is certain she will get accepted to at least one if not both of her choices, my stomach seems to have not getting the message because it is in knots. It is almost all I can do to not scream out of overwhelming anxiety.

I didn’t used to be this way.

Did I finally grow up?