Ratty Robe of Worry

Recently, a friend was going through a medical issue and gave what I like to call “the runaround,” having to go from one doctor to the next and shelling out co-pays all along the way. Without thought, I told her Peace of mind is costly.

Later, when the dust settled, she asked me how I came up with that response. This really made me pause since, well, I had no idea. It just came out of my mouth without an ounce of thought. That’s usually where the truth lies.

The truth is I don’t think I’ve ever had Peace of mind, in the true sense. Being born into a household with an older parent, a lot of my childhood was spent worrying about death.

I was 10 years old when I realized my dad was older than my best friend’s grandmom, and in that instant, my carefree childhood began worrying about the future. Fear is so much cheaper than Peace.

If you were wondering, my dad died when I was THIRTY-ONE.

This pattern of worry or fear of the future has been with me for a long time. It didn’t get buried with my dad; it followed me into each phase of my journey. I’ve mastered this behavior.

Now, here I sit at the point in my life where my kids are productive members of society and my parents are ironically resting in Peace. This is supposed to be “my” time. So, why the hell am I sitting in a constant state of waiting for the other shoe to drop? It’s like being in a foreign land without a translator.

Apparently, I’m not comfortable in a state of settled awareness. I don’t even know how to react to being present. I prefer the ratty robe of worry. Currently, I’m training myself to keep that robe in the closet and unify myself with the now. Did I hear good luck with that, Lisa?

There are days, even weeks, when the struggle is real. Why? Well, life. I’m not made of stone, and I have a T.V.

I know for sure that unlearning is a hell of a lot more complicated than learning. Trying to untangle decades of trauma, behaviors, and thought processes will take some time and effort. I’ve been doing the work, as they say, for a year. Yes, I’ve made some significant strides, but the world as we currently know it has me grabbing that ratty robe more often than I’d like. There are no back-to-school sales for unlearning.

Now, if only I had an eraser. Enjoy the Ride!

13 responses

  1. We are being schooled in the class of finding the balance – and frankly, I’m not at the head of the class either..you’re awesome.


  2. Lisa, well said. The quote is dead on accurate. Keith

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I envy anyone who has this problem solved. And I think they’re lying!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, hands down lying! Especially if you have children. Here’s your bundle, now turn over your peace.


  4. I could relate to this completely. Even when you get peace of mind about something, it’s fleeting because you go onto worry about something else.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Yes, peace is costly, a lesson I’ve always on some level knew, but just now am able to face and attempt to process.

    One could say, I’ve had many practice balls at trying to hold my peace, meaning…holding it dear not letting it go so easily. I have learned that without peace of mind, it doesn’t much matter what else you have,

    Love the ratty robe analogy. For me it would be the flannel pajamas with the massive hole in the seat. It’s hard breaking patterns but it sounds as if, you’re clearly on your way. A lovely essay Lisa.


    Liked by 1 person

    1. 1000000% true!
      I do love a good comfort zone so this hasn’t been easy for me.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It’s very brave when we venture out…your ratty robe, my holy pants.


  6. I can worry along with the best of them, but as my hubby says often, “Worry is like an ugly dog, it looks worse coming than going.” My raggy robe is fear. It’s taken years and years and for the most part, it is departed, but every once in a while, it returns and sneers at me in the corner of my mind. Cathi (DAF)

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Not too long ago I overheard one of my Doctors, after I left the examination room, tell my treatment nurse, “If it gives her peace of mind…”. My first reaction was to cry all the way home. My next reaction was anger… “I am a cancer patient, are you treating me just to give me peace of mind?”, “Do you not think I need treatment and only want treatment?”, “Do you think that treating me is a waste of time?”, you get the idea of what was running around in my head. My next reaction was that I don’t believe any Doctor (up to that point) gave a rats ass about my peace of mind. They did what they wanted to do and treated me the way they perceived I should be treated and it was on to the next in line.
    All this to say, I’m glad you and your friend got past it. I’m not sure I have.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow, I’m far from past it. I wish I was, but I don’t feel fears or worry ever really leave the building.
      I think your reaction is 100% on target. You went through the emotions then got to the good part. I’m all for doctors prescribing Peace of Mind, it’s much more powerful than anything big pharma is pushing.
      My mother’s doctor treated many elderly patients. When my mom needed blood work he said, “There is a peace of mind pass when you turn 90, I’ll do it in the office so you don’t have to make another trip to the lab,” I think that number should be lowered…lol!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: