I’m going to worry about you. I’m afraid I have no control over that. Sometimes I’ll worry a little. Sometimes I’ll worry a lot. If you encased yourself in a five inch layer of bubble wrap and laid on a water bed, I’d be concerned about you getting too hot. If its raining, I’m concerned about you getting wet. If your driving, I’m concerned about bad drivers stressing you out. If you aren’t eating, you get gift cards to restaurants. Tell me your neck hurts, and I want to massage it for you. Tell me your feet hurt, and I want to rub them. Tell me you aren’t sleeping, and I want to put you to sleep. I love you; therefore, I care about you and your overall well being, mental and physical.
The problem is distance. My concern can’t be followed with action. I don’t want to trigger an echo chamber of concern, you being concerned about concerning me. You are locked into my conscious and subconscious mind and as that never-ending machine churns your well being is on my mental checklist and I wouldn’t want it not to be. Me trying not to worry about the things that are actively and negatively impacting you would be like trying not to breath. I say all of that to say don’t worry about my worry. Yes, I see the contradiction in that statement, but we are just going to pretend like it helps to make my point. I’ll occasionally lose some sleep worrying about you in the more extreme situations, but that is an extraordinarily small price to pay for getting to love you and have you in my life.
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