A Message for My 36th Birthday

This is the second year I've written a post to celebrate my birthday. This year, several people wrote to tell me I should start a blog. So, here goes, with the original message.

I’ve been worrying a lot lately. The latest worries surround my clothes dryer, which is currently making a grinding noise in the motor, and the freezer, which didn’t freeze the bottle of water I put into it last night. The worry list also includes other things in my house (like the emergency bathroom remodel that seems like it will go on forever), the health of my family members and friends (especially the ones expecting babies!), the health of my dog (which was further emphasized by the news that friends of mine had to put their dog to sleep), whether or not the next round of fertility treatments will work, the state of the world, my job, the ringing in my ears that started last week…and the list goes on and on.

I came by this habit very honestly. My beloved grandmother, Bubby, who I consider my third parent because she played a very significant role in raising me and my sister, is one of the most talented worriers I’ve ever known. Even at almost-age 92 and spending almost all of her time at home in her chair, she still calls me when she sees that there are big rainstorms in California and she hates when any of us have to get on a plane to come to Baltimore because it might be dangerous.

This morning, on my way into work, I was thinking to myself, “Why do I worry so much?” I think it is because worrying gives the illusion of control to things I can’t control. If I worry about them, at least I’m doing something to satisfy my need to control the situation! A friend of mine told me earlier in the week that control is just an illusion—that you really can’t control anything except the most basic things, and that even those things can go wrong. (For example, I can cross the street, looking both ways to make sure traffic is clear, and still get hit by a speeding car. Silly, yes, but true.)

For some reason, when I went into the freezer this morning to discover my half-frozen bottle of water, it finally hit me: This is just a thing. Life will continue whether my freezer works or not, so why get consumed with when the repair guy will show up? And does it really matter when my bathroom is finished? And, while we’re on the subject, does worrying about whether the next round of fertility treatments will work actually help them to work? Or will worrying about my job help get the work done? Speaking of my grandmother—about 25 years ago (at age 11 or so!) I started thinking about her dying, and it consumed me for days. Finally, an adult said to me, “Worrying about this will take away time you could actually be spending with your grandmother and enjoying her.” Last week, I had the rare pleasure of watching the Baltimore Ravens game on television with her. (For the record, she is a very knowledgeable sports fan.) What a blessing. Imagine how I wouldn’t have enjoyed it if I’d been worrying about her dying for the past 25 years!

(Also, in the “I come by it honestly” department: When my sister was born, my grandmother told my mother that she didn’t want to come around too much so my sister wouldn’t get too attached to her [so that when she died, she wouldn’t miss her as much]. 38 years later, it makes me sad to think about my life without my grandmother as such a crucial part of my childhood. And it makes me laugh to know how closely I think like my grandmother!)

Luckily, I am married to P.C., who has the uncanny ability to bring me down to earth when my brain starts spinning out of control. I know there are days when he looks at me like I’m totally insane, but he is always so wonderful about things, tells it to me like it is, and always makes me feel better—sometimes just by stating the obvious (“Jill, it’s a bathroom.”). What an angel he is and an amazing part of my life.

So, here’s what I’m thinking about worrying these days: there is no point. Life is a series of chapters, and all we can do is our best to get through them with positive thought and energy, and find the sweetness at every stage. Don’t get me wrong—there are plenty of things that deserve worry—like catastrophes (of which the bathroom floor is not one!).

Speaking of “finding the sweetness”: One sweet spot that has been with me through the years in the collection of wonderful friendships I have with so many interesting, supportive, funny, delightful people. Over the years, I’ve “collected” so many wonderful folks—high school friends, college friends, online friends, friends from the various places in which I’ve lived, friends of friends, coworkers, baseball moms, Fleetwood Mac fans (and non-fans!), newfound soul mates in the fertility journey, and, of course, the amazing friendship I have with my husband. I am so lucky to have all of you. And I know that, no matter what the pages in each chapter may read, that it is all part of a bigger journey, and I need to cherish every step. There is no point in being negative about the world when life is full of so many beautiful blessings.

As I said in my message last year, “I hope you will count your blessings when you can. I know I will try to do that more … Here’s to another year of “’blessed days.’”