After fifty years it’s time to admit out loud, I’m a worrywart.

I say this, share this, not to disparage myself, but rather to inform others and explain my fundamental nature.

Indeed, I’ve come adapt to the state over decades and think perhaps my story might help someone else.

I wake up most every day in the early hours stirred awake by a preoccupation with “everything there is to do and what might go wrong.”

There, it’s in the open. And it’s true.

I can’t explain it. It creeps into my mind and mulls about for a while, until I get a handle on it, tamp it down, escort it out.

I’ve chosen mantras over medications as a means to cope. It’s my cross to bear and I do so willingly, if with more struggle at times. It’s an organic condition, natural to me, so I choose to cope thus.

Worrywart. Not a label, I’m much more than that alone. But it’s part of what I am.

Just sharing. Thanks for reading.