To borrow a quote from Stephenie Geist, if worrying was an Olympic sport, I’d likely get a gold medal. And if not for the endorphins that my compensating sense of humor releases into my body like a performance enhancing drug, I think that I would have also suffered a worry-induced heart attack a long time ago. The very word comes from the Old English “wyrgan,” which means “to strangle.” It later evolved to “worien” and was used to describe how wolves tore other animals apart with their sharp teeth. Although the word’s modern usage is now emotional or psychological in nature, it is still without a doubt just as deadly. Worrying nowadays can still kill you, albeit more slowly, by suffocating you to death with stress.
Psychologists say that worrying stems from a desire to retain control in a world where so many things can go wrong. Paradoxically, we worry today about everything because we think it will then enable us to stop worrying. Ironically, however, one study in the US suggests that 96 percent of our worries are needless. According to its findings, 40 percent of what we worry about never really happen and so are useless worries; 30 percent have already happened and so can’t be helped anymore; and 22 percent are about unfounded or trivial matters. Of the remaining 8 percent, half are beyond our control and that we can only influence the balance 4 percent. And so, the conclusion is that worrying is often just a waste of time.
Be that as it may, I’ve always been a worrywart for as long as I can remember. I routinely triple and quadruple check doors. Even though I’ve never joined a beauty contest, I even often worry about world peace. You name it, I’ve worried about it. Of course, being a worrywart does have some advantages. For one thing, my house has never been broken into yet. It also serves me well at work where it helps me plan more, anticipate problems better, and be proactive. But apart from being good-naturedly ribbed with sweet nicknames such as “Mr. Follow-up,” “Mr. Kulit,” and “Mr. Delikado,” it also comes with a heavy emotional price tag. It is physically exhausting to constantly worry. When I’m stressed, I can literally feel the heaviness in my heart. I “panic eat.” It also makes me moody and I can’t help but to sometimes take that home with me. And that is one of my biggest worries — what my children learn from the way I deal with stress and worry. Do I show them patience or impatience? Do I model calmness or anxiety? Do I teach them how to keep their cool or how to blow their top?
Children are also very perceptive and sensitive individuals. They know when we parents are very busy with work or other things. And I think that it is precisely during these instances when they try to test us. Your son may come into your room while you’re busily working and invite you to go outside and play catch with him. Or your daughter may ask you to fix her drawer that had gotten stuck just as you’re rushing to leave for an important meeting. Whatever you decide to do and how you communicate it to them will not just impact how they will immediately feel or think; it may also affect how they deal with their own kids in the future.
These past few weeks have been particularly busy and stressful times for me. It has not been easy being a good dad. One thing that I’ve happily learned, however, is that trying to not be too busy for my kids has actually been relaxing and that they are my best antidote to worry and stress. Instead of adding to my anxieties by taking time away from what I need to do, they give me comfort by reminding me of what really matters. So to all you other worrywart dads like me, when the going gets tough, just step back and look at your children. Take a good look. Slow down and play, read a book, or just make small talk with them. Be happy and let your kids melt all your worries away.
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