I think it was somewhere between my 3 year-old son saying he wants to be a Fryer Fryter (Fire Fighter) after sliding down a playground pole and tutoring this morning that I had a moment of understanding about life. I worry too much about the things that, as Linkin Park says, "In the End it really doesn't matter", and not enough about what I do need to worry about. I have always struggled with anxiety. To the point at times I thought my wife would strangle me. I would become so depressed over the dumbest things (like a tiny drip of water off a pipe in the basement to obsessive listening to see if the furance would miss lighting) that it was and is still to some degree taking its toll.
Am I better? No!
Am I trying? Yep!
I feel that over the past year I have really learned to focus on what I can control and worry about the rest when it happens.
As my son declared his desire to fight fires, I thought 2 things. 1) He is stinkin' cute and 2)If I don't stop worrying so much I won't be around to see him be a firefighter, or he will be one and I will wonder what happened to all the years inbetween.
I guess what I am trying to say is take time to be with your family. Appreciate them, thank them, and be kind to them.
Now, 6th graders on the other hand...