Stupid Mr. Worry






He asked me, “Mom, would God ever damn someone because I didn’t do something?”                                                                                                            

Wow. “No.  That’s not how God works.”

I wondered where he could have ever gotten an idea like that.  We talked a little bit.  In a few minutes it was clear to me what was happening.
I told him how, when I was small, when my mom went out, I would have to watch her drive away until I couldn’t see her car anymore. If I didn’t do this, she would die.  And I had already lost my dad, so I wasn’t about to allow something like that to happen if I could prevent it.                                        

My boy was having these thoughts, a “voice”, that made him think that he had to perform certain tasks in a certain way—or harm would come to someone.

                                                           O.C.D.                                                               

I always knew what it was. Always had it to a degree (like many of us). Never gave it much thought. I thought it was responsible, even cute, when Luke would ask us if the door was locked every time we left the house. But it was morphing into a monster that was causing my son distress.                             

So, we started this journey to challenge “Mr. Worry.” Against everything else we’ve ever taught him, we had to let him know that it’s ok to tell Mr. Worry to shove it. And all is going well. We are making amazing strides forward, and undoing some of the habits that have been forming over time.                        

It’s funny how things work. It has been years since I thought I had to do something to prevent something else. But I realized that I still have the “voice” telling me what to do. For me, it is my perpetual list that repeats in my head.  A few minutes ago, it was, “Luke’s school, mom’s blood, laundry.” I know that sounds bizarre, but it’s just a to-do list for me: I have to prepare Luke’s school work for the week, test my mom’s blood, and put laundry away.                     

There is always a list in my head. It might seem good, but it’s a bad thing, a reminder of what I have not done, and that I can’t rest (without guilt) until everything is crossed off. Nobody taught me this idea. It’s just the way I think.
But at 50 years old, I am addressing stupid Mr. Worry, following the lead of a brave little soul who is learning early that sometimes it’s ok to say no.


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