my worrying life

I've been busy and not so buy lately, experiencing things that didn't merit any writing or merited it so much that it was inappropriate to write about them here. I got horribly sick very briefly and was completely knocked out for a while, but that's too boring even for me to write about, so I won't.

This morning, I read a blog that pointed to a wonderful article by a man with Asperger's syndrome. (Read it when you have a minute -- it's one of those articles that makes me wish I had the persistence to subscribe to the New Yorker.) It included a quote that resonated with me:

I worry about them [my friends] daily ([...] Virgil Thomson [...] once said that worry was one form of prayer that he found acceptable).

I never do pray -- I'm not convinced there's anything there to pray *to* or that a prayer would be answered. So I am just not in the habit of it. But I do worry about my friends a lot.

About as soon as I get attached to someone, or perhaps as I get attached, I start to think about awful things that might happen to them, not in a wishful way, but in a dreading way. Sometimes I realize that an attachment is growing because of the dread that starts creeping into my thoughts. I want to draw a protective sheet around people I care for to keep them from meeting up with harm.

I worry about Robert the most, and it is of course hard for me when he travels without me. I'm fine with him being away, but it's just hard thinking about him getting there. I worry about Robert's job. I worry about him taking care of himself.

When my stepfather died, I worried about my brother and hoped that anything that was unresolved (and there was likely to be a lot) would present itself slowly without being too overwhelming.

Right now, I worry about my friend KAH who struggles with depression and shares his journey with readers of one of his blogs. He has a strong spirit and good humor and I'm sure there's much we're not hearing. So I worry.

I worry about trips that people take. I worry when I say goodbye to Robert in the morning. I worry when I see a friend who seems a little vulnerable, and I hope that they can move through to a stronger space. I worry more about people who seem to need some worrying and at a lower level for all other purposes.

It's not like I think or believe or wish that I could control any of this chaos. Most often, good things happen, but sometimes bad things happen, even to the very best of people. It's more that I care. And hope. And pray, except that I call it worry.