Every day. Well, nearly every day. Most days for sure. Yeah, let's go with most days there is lots to be anxious about. Where did that mole on my left arm come from? Is it something to be concerned about? What about the spot (don't call it age spot) on my right arm, beside that scar, from when I burned the hairs, and a little skin, when I reached into the oven ...
Will I get the job I bid on? What will I cook for dinner? Why do I have to cook dinner, again? Why did she look at me like that? Does this make me look fat (fatter)? Why won't he just listen to me and do it my way? Oh, Lord! What have I done now?
A couple of years back this popped up on my Facebook feed. I read a lot into what this friend of my daughters, and hence another one of my other daughters, wrote. Did she know she she spoke from her soul (sole?) to mine?
We all have enough anxiety at any one time to keep us from being well and happy without our socks sliding in our shoes. But it happens. Every day. To someone. Somewhere.
Henceforth, I resolve to check people out.To cut them a long rope, with lots of slack. To remember to look to see if their socks are sliding.
I know that feeling of hiding an aggravation or not letting on about something that's nettling me. Just maybe they're dealing with something I can't see.