Worry is like a wart, a blemish, a literal gray hair. It is an extension of me that I wish wasn’t there. It shows itself with just the smallest amount of prompting; most often while the birds cease their chirping and the world is dark. It is incessant, relentless and it picks up speed as thoughts feed off each other like a persistent connect the dots. And then….the light of comes and the sun blurs it a little. Warm hot coffee and laughing littles lessen its blow.

Today surgeries are complete. Doctors and specialists have called to give their all clear and I can feel how I will flow through this day with ease. My shoulders don’t hug my ears. My breath is not hard to swallow. My heart does not feel trapped in my chest. Biopsies came back all clear, MRI’s all clear, bills paid, children loved and happy, husband healthy . All is as well as well can be and my body feels it. My brain knows it. I am at peace….

Yet, still, tucked way back, behind the ease and the breeze, I can’t help but to worry about when the worry will be back.

The life of a worry wart.

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