Worry

After I was done writing my blog post last night I went to take my shower. Running extremely hot water and aiming the shower head right on the back of my neck helped a lot. I took a longer shower than I usually do, but who cares. Well, I might if we ever have to actually pay a water bill. Then I'll care. Once I was done with my shower I came into the living room and plopped down on the couch, rolling my neck and enjoying the fact that I could move it again without cringing too badly.

Then Master said something that took me off guard. He said, "You worry too much."

Where the hell did that come from? Dude, I was in the shower and I come out and I worry too much? I'm confused!

But He continued by explaining that He had read my blog post and that was why He said I worry too much. It's not like it's the first time He's ever said it to me. He tells me that all the time. I worry too much.

If I remember correctly, that's part of being bipolar. If not, who cares. It's how I am. It's how I've always been. I worry. And then there are those lovely anxiety attacks I get. Those are fun. They aren't full on panic attacks or anything like that. I just suddenly feel overwhelmed and my heart starts to race a little bit and I feel very, very anxious.

Master tells me that I need to stop worrying so much. He has to tell me when there is nothing I can do to prevent certain things and as a result there is no need to worry about them. But I do.

I think I get that from my mother actually. We both basically try to prepare ourselves for the worst, just in case. *shrugs*

I will say that even that has gotten better since I've been medicated though. I think Master would agree with that. Maybe one day I'll get to an age where I'll say, "Fuck it."

You know.. like when I'm 80 or so.