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Worrying has always been a big issue for me. It gets better or worse depending on my present situation, and my frame of mind that day. My level of anxiety can also affect how optimistic I am at any given moment.

I worry over many different things. One of the things I worry over the most is money. Will John and I have enough money to keep a roof over our heads, and get our son the things that he needs? Will I be able to afford all the things we are going to need down the road? Will we ever be able to live in a home of our own without a roommate?

I also worry about my kids frequently. Is My daughter Whitney doing alight there in Ohio on her own? Where is Alexa, and will I ever get to see her again? Is Thor healthy and growing like he should? I will admit I worry every time I put him down to sleep at night. I must wake up half a dozen times some nights to check on him. I say the same prayer for him every night, sometimes several times a night, even if I don’t pray much about anything else anymore.

Sometimes I worry about staying healthy, and being around for my kids down the road. My older two kids are adults, but one is still a teen, and my youngest son is still just a small baby. I hope to live long enough to see him grow up. It know that is a worry because I am so much older now than before.

I worry about my husband and his health problems. What will happen if he loses what little is left of his hearing? What if his vision gets worse? What happens if he spends another two years unemployed, and he’s turned down for disability all over again? I can’t keep us afloat financially alone forever. I know he’s trying his best, and none of this is his fault.

I should be doing things to make the situation better. I have novels that need to be edited and rewritten, but it’s hard to want to work on it all when I’m this stressed out. Stress isn’t exactly conducive to creativity, at least not where I am concerned. It’s hard to concentrate, when all I can think about is how worried I am about it all.

I wish I knew how not to worry, or at least how to not let it get the better of me. Some days I just want to sit and cry about it all, other days I’m grumpy, and sometimes both at once. It would help if I knew that eventually it would all be alright, but I don’t. No one can promise me that, so the worry remains, it never goes away.