Last week, Hubby and I were on our way back home from an after dinner walk with Stitch when I saw what looked like a hole in the back window of my car. Stitch was already dragging Lance towards the front door as I beelined for the car, hoping it was a weird reflection playing tricks on me.
But I already knew it wasn’t. Because, in addition to the hole which first caught my eye, all the corners of the window also had the jagged look of shattering.
As I swooped in for closer inspection, all my suspicions were confirmed. There was a quarter-sized hole, the hole had spiderwebbed, and every corner of the window had already shattered from their usual rounded edges.
When I woke myself from my stupor and finally managed to call for Lance, he went into the car by using the back passenger door, to inspect for evidence of what might have caused the damage. When he shut the door, the hole caved in, taking with it about 18 inches of the glass at the center of the window.
We’re fairly certain it was a freak thing, a change in the temperature or maybe a small crack that had gone unnoticed, but at the same time, YIKES.
When it rains, it pours, right? And in my case, literally. We couldn’t get a new glass installed for two days. And the night before our installation, there was a thunderstorm.
Yes, thunderstorm, as in a wall shaking, rumbling, tumbling thunderstorm.
The weather had predicted the storm and I went to bed tossing and turning with worry over this storm. Would the rain get in? Would it damage the inside of my *new* car?
Finally, I had to give myself a pep talk on the uselessness of worry. Unless I planned to go outside in my pajamas and reinforce the trash bag we had already taped over the window, there was absolutely nothing I could do. My worry would only keep me up. It would not solve or change a thing.
The world is flooded with worry right now. Uncertainty helps produce worry.
Being uncertain if the rain would come and whether it would get in my car, brought on heart racing, breath quickening worry. But even before this, I had one of those unattractive breakdown moments in my living room.
A Why me? moment. Why did this have to happen? Why do I have to deal with it?
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this: These feelings aren’t wrong. It’s what we do after these feelings surface which will speak to our true character and resilience*.
*Keep in mind, hours after this, I began worrying in bed, so I am definitely not tooting my horn. My horn is broken, it squawks instead of toots.
My hope today is to inspire you with actions to take when the way we are living right now begins to swamp you with worry.
1. Don’t think about the shattered glass
I attended a seminar once where the speaker told us all to say with him, “I will not think about purple monkeys” a certain number of times. By the end, he said, “Now how many of you are thinking about purple monkeys?”
If you allow your mind to continue dwelling on it, it will remain there. Instead, tell yourself, “There is nothing I can do about this right now” and purposefully choose something else to concentrate on.
2. Think on the good
For all the why us and we don’t know worries out there, remind yourself of the good in your life. You have your health. You have your home. You have your family. When you think on these, hopefully hundreds of other goods in your life will come to mind, replacing your fear with gratitude.
3. Ask for help
This might be even more difficult than trying not to worry. Admitting to someone else that you need help can be a terrifying thing, but if you do it, I know you won’t regret it. Find someone you trust, someone you can put your full confidence in, someone who has proven to have a kind spirit and a listening ear, and express what you are going through. Sometimes, just being able to say your feelings out loud to someone is all you need.
4. Don’t look at the shattered glass
In the two days between my shattered window and repaired window, I had to force myself not to look outside at my car. I translate that to our current situation as this: Find a hobby! Start doing those puzzles your mom has been buying you every Christmas*. Buy Rosetta Stone for the language you’ve always wanted to learn. Read a book. Write a letter to a friend**. Bake some bread. Dust off that electric guitar and play it.
*Thanks, Mom. The Times Square one looks pretty challenging.
**A REAL letter, with an envelope and a stamp.
I didn’t need the panic and worry of having part of my car destroyed for seemingly no reason. But I did need the reminder that it will never be profitable for me to worry. Even if I am surrounded by shattered glass.
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