Open when you can't stop worrying

Your brain is trying to protect you. It's just doing too much right now, like a guard dog barking at the mailman every single day.

I know the loop. You've checked the door, then checked it again. You've written the email three times. You're lying there doing math about something that hasn't happened, and might not, and if it does, you'll handle it the way you've handled everything.

I want to try something with you. Get a piece of paper, any paper, the back of a receipt. Write the worry down. The whole thing, even the parts that sound silly written out. Then fold it in half and put it in a drawer.

It's not your job tonight. The drawer has it now.

Here's what I found when I tried this last year. I kept every folded worry in a shoebox. In December, I read them all. Out of thirty one worries, two actually happened. And I survived both of those, and one of them turned out to be the reason I met Marcus.

Twenty nine things I lost sleep over, and they never came.

Your worries aren't predictions. They're just weather passing through.

Now put the paper in the drawer and go to sleep.

Leah

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