Who me—worry?

I have always been a worrier. I probably worried about the other babies in the nursery shortly after I was born.There's nothing I haven't worried about. My family and friends. Co-workers. Neighbors. My Readers. Facebook friends and their families. Celebrities. Politicians. Foreign governments. Global Warming. My dogs. My granddaughter's kitten. My M-I-L's elderly dog.

Rainforests. Animals on the endangered species lists. Missing Children.

I worry about my own health and everyone else's. The Deficit. Our troops. The American Economy. Crime. The unemployed. How long will Social Security last? Violence in schools and bullies. Sex offenders. The people at church. My Pastor. His wife. The list goes on and on.

Sometimes I worry that I'm not worried enough. Or that I haven't worried about something I should have been worried about. It bothers me when I see other people who don't seem to be worried at all. I worry that their lack of worrying will cause future catastrophes. 

I wonder if worrying will prevent bad things from happening, or lessen the degree of a particular incident. Sort of like a Catholic's Purgatory. If you say enough prayers while you're living, you won't have to spend as much time in Purgatory after you die.

I worry that my anxieties might be a... problem. I suppose I could seek counseling or go on medication. But then I'd have to worry about making appointments, getting there, remembering to take the pills and the adverse effects of anti-anxiety agents on my body.

Somebody has to do the worrying. Don't worry. I got your back!