hello_mrzebra
13-10-09, 18:15
A recent experience of mine shed a lot of light onto the ultimate pointlessness of worry. I thought I'd share it with you all.
My dear friend had to put her cat to sleep two weeks ago. We are very close, such that I cat-sit for her when she is out of town, so I was close with the cat as well. I was her "uncle" if you will. The cat had been sick for some time and putting it to sleep was obviously the right choice.
My friend arranged to have a vet come into her home to preform the procedure, so the cat could be in a safe and familiar environment for her final moments. The procedure was scheduled for a Tuesday and on the Saturday prior I volunteered to be there with her during the procedure for moral support.
The days that followed were plagued by worry. I worried about how terrible it would we to watch the cat put to sleep. I worried about how sad my friend would be, and how sad I would be. I worried that I wouldn't be able to handle it, or that I wouldn't be able to comfort my friend, or that she wouldn't be able to handle it. I even worried that something might go wrong with the procedure and the cat would suffer or freak out or something terrible like that. I worried and worried.
The day of the procedure came and I arrived at her house early. She was playing soft music and the vet arrived on time. The cat dug her paws on the vet's bag like she always did with any new bag that was brought into the house, and we smiled.
The procedure was done quickly, and my friend was terribly upset because the cat's eyes never closed. It WAS a terrible experience, but even so, the sky didn't fall, the world didn't end, I didn't spontaneously combust or devolve into a mass of goo. It was terrible, it happened, and I lived through it.
The vet left and took the cat's body with him, and when he was gone we sat together and cried for some time. Then we gathered ourselves and left the house and had dinner at a nice restaurant and drank a toast to her cat, Maddy.
The point of my story is this: never once did I think during the actual event, "boy, I'm sure glad I worried so much about this," or "boy, all that worrying sure prepared me for how difficult this would be." In fact, everything was ultimately MUCH LESS DIFFICULT than my worries would have had me believe. It was hard, but not insurmountable.
Now, this is just putting a cat to sleep. This isn't going in to get the results of a biopsy or some other potentially serious test or whatnot. But the premise is the same.
The essence of worry, I believe, is not just that something terrible might happen in the future, but moreso that if/when something terrible happens, we won't be able to handle it.
Those of us with health anxiety worry about "if this random symptom is something serious..." but worry never allows us to finish that thought.
Worry doesn't allow us to think "if this is something serious, I will deal with it as best I can."
Worry only asks "what if?" The answer to that question is, of course, "then I will deal with it in that moment, and most likely I will deal with it with more strength than I imagine myself capable of"
But there is nothing about worry that will prepare us for that moment, should it ever come. Because we are already prepared, even if we don't know it yet.
My dear friend had to put her cat to sleep two weeks ago. We are very close, such that I cat-sit for her when she is out of town, so I was close with the cat as well. I was her "uncle" if you will. The cat had been sick for some time and putting it to sleep was obviously the right choice.
My friend arranged to have a vet come into her home to preform the procedure, so the cat could be in a safe and familiar environment for her final moments. The procedure was scheduled for a Tuesday and on the Saturday prior I volunteered to be there with her during the procedure for moral support.
The days that followed were plagued by worry. I worried about how terrible it would we to watch the cat put to sleep. I worried about how sad my friend would be, and how sad I would be. I worried that I wouldn't be able to handle it, or that I wouldn't be able to comfort my friend, or that she wouldn't be able to handle it. I even worried that something might go wrong with the procedure and the cat would suffer or freak out or something terrible like that. I worried and worried.
The day of the procedure came and I arrived at her house early. She was playing soft music and the vet arrived on time. The cat dug her paws on the vet's bag like she always did with any new bag that was brought into the house, and we smiled.
The procedure was done quickly, and my friend was terribly upset because the cat's eyes never closed. It WAS a terrible experience, but even so, the sky didn't fall, the world didn't end, I didn't spontaneously combust or devolve into a mass of goo. It was terrible, it happened, and I lived through it.
The vet left and took the cat's body with him, and when he was gone we sat together and cried for some time. Then we gathered ourselves and left the house and had dinner at a nice restaurant and drank a toast to her cat, Maddy.
The point of my story is this: never once did I think during the actual event, "boy, I'm sure glad I worried so much about this," or "boy, all that worrying sure prepared me for how difficult this would be." In fact, everything was ultimately MUCH LESS DIFFICULT than my worries would have had me believe. It was hard, but not insurmountable.
Now, this is just putting a cat to sleep. This isn't going in to get the results of a biopsy or some other potentially serious test or whatnot. But the premise is the same.
The essence of worry, I believe, is not just that something terrible might happen in the future, but moreso that if/when something terrible happens, we won't be able to handle it.
Those of us with health anxiety worry about "if this random symptom is something serious..." but worry never allows us to finish that thought.
Worry doesn't allow us to think "if this is something serious, I will deal with it as best I can."
Worry only asks "what if?" The answer to that question is, of course, "then I will deal with it in that moment, and most likely I will deal with it with more strength than I imagine myself capable of"
But there is nothing about worry that will prepare us for that moment, should it ever come. Because we are already prepared, even if we don't know it yet.