My optometrist seemed a little too eager to inform me in January that my eyesight challenges are due to age, not correctable by Lasik. Thank you for that information and how much do I owe you for the damage to my ego? In any case, because of this reduced acuity, I really don’t notice the worry lines on my forehead until my contacts are in and I’m 2″ away from my magnifying mirror. I am truly taken aback every time I see the lines that have all of the concerns of my life deeply rooted in their existence.
I do wonder how many of those lines could have been avoided if I had stopped “planning the funeral before the death”. In other words, I’ve been guilty of worrying about things that haven’t even happened. How dumb is that? Or worrying about things that already happened and can’t be changed. Or worrying about whether I’ll change or you’ll change or he’ll change, etc. I worry about everything.
My worry is all consuming, too…and proportional. If the problem is HUGE, I lose huge amounts of sleep…and hair. It’s a wonder I’m not bald. If it’s a smallish problem or concern, I tend to just be irritated and short of patience. The point is that worry has a grip on me and despite the consummate knowledge that I have no control over the circumstances that cause this burden, I can’t seem to let go. Praying about this little character flaw has become as natural as avoiding that magnifying mirror.
There is a silver lining, however! I have days when the lines seem subdued and concealed. Those are the days when I’m living “in the moment” rather than in the past or the untold future. That should be incentive in and of itself to fire the fortune teller and horoscope writer I have on retainer. (I’m joking…really)
Botox is expensive and needles are scary. With that said, the alternative of less worry and more faith that God has it all worked out without my input or opinion may be the way to go. If there are going to be lines on my face, I’d prefer they come from laughing often and not from a useless time-sucker called worry.