Worry is a tide that perpetually pulls me, dragging me from the present. Before I know it, I'm completely distracted, oblivious to everything around me, consumed with anxiety and fear. I'm not living in the present -- with all its beauty and wonder -- but somewhere in my head, far from anything resembling enjoyment.
I have my own theory about why some people retire happily and others get depressed or ill upon retirement, about why some people drive fast and like rollercoaster rides and horror movies, and others-- like me-- absolutely refuse to see anything violent and frightening and have always avoided scary rides in amusement parks.
'How do you manage to remain so cheerful?' people ask. 'Your job can be so stressful, and yet you're always smiling. What's your secret?' It isn't that I was born a perpetually happy camper, or that I've finally found the right meds. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) It's because I'm a writer.