It takes effort to push back against the tide of small worries, to-do lists, people to call back, emails piling up as fast as you can delete them. Trying to meditate or to take a few moments out on the porch when full of anxiety can be infuriating. The cart is placed before the horse, and you don't get anywhere at first.
When it comes to worrying, my mother was an Olympian, and she tried her best to train me to win a gold medal, too. I came close, but in my mother's eyes, I never worried enough. I've logged many sleepless nights perseverating about making the right choices, saying the wrong things, whether I would meet deadlines, having a car accident, and being a good-enough mom.
Recently, I spent a marvelous week on vacation with my family (our eldest son was working out of the country, but the younger two, 25, and 22, were able to join my husband and me). The scene was an idyllic cabin beside a lake filled with bass, osprey soaring the skies, and golden sunsets. It would have been perfect, except for one thing: Worry. Somehow, it stalks me wherever I go.