I am a worrier. I know people who read this blog (and those of you who actually know me) will be shocked by the above statement. I am so good at hiding the perpetual wrinkles in my forehead, and my ragged fingernails are often mistaken for a cheap and poorly executed manicure. Those are forehead laugh lines… And I like the way my cuticles taste…
Now that the cat is out of the bag (I was worried that would happen), I can freely admit that I have no topic for this week’s blog. Basically I am too worried to come up with one. And as worried as I have been that my blog tank would run dry, it feels good to admit this to all (eight) of you.
You see I am a new parent. And apparently new parent = worried. At least for me. Let us catalog the concerns:
I am worried that my daughter sleeps too much.
I am worried that she doesn’t sleep enough.
I am worried that I can’t get her to sleep sometimes.
I am worried that she will become or already is ADD because her dad (me) f*cked up her sleep patterns.
I am worried I hold her too much.
I am worried I don’t hold her enough.
I can’t get her to eat right.
She eats too quickly.
She is going to be fat for her whole life.
She hasn’t smiled yet and that worries me.
I take her on too many errands.
I don’t have her on a good routine.
She doesn’t get enough stimulation.
Sometimes she is just fussy for hours at a time and I get frustrated. She can sense my frustration and now hates me.
Here is the kicker. I am CONVINCED that this is all my fault. Basically, I am the world’s worst dad. I have screwed up and now I have messed up this little person for life by something I have done. Because I didn’t do something the right way my daughter will never smile and grow up and become an ax murder. I read a sh*t-ton of books before she was born, but I have still done it all wrong.
This is a personality flaw. I know this. I have always felt that when something was going wrong I was somehow to blame. Global Warming? I knew I shouldn’t have had that bottled water! As the director of my improv troupe, whenever something doesn’t go right in a show, or in a rehearsal, etc, I assume I have done something wrong. Yes, I know, I am very egotistical. I am worried that I think about myself too much. Which, obviously, I do.
When I was seven, my parents got divorced. After my dad sat my brother, sister, and me down and explained that he was moving out I locked myself in the bathroom. I figured that if I stayed in there, he wouldn’t leave. I’d just have to eat the soap when I got hungry. For some reason I thought I could control my parents by living in our powder room for the rest of my life.
In so many ways I am still that seven year old kid.
Today’s Improvmantra: Give up your illusion of control. You are not in control of anything but yourself… and even that is debatable.