I'm not going to even attempt to deny it... I'm a good old fashioned the 'world is falling in' Chicken Little Drama Queen.
You know, the type who jumps to conclusions like - if you don't answer your phone when I call you, you must be like lying dead in a gutter or something?
Yup, that's me.
Hi!
I'm also known for these pearlers too..
Worrying that a one off giddy spell doesn't actually have anything to do with the fact I forgot to eat brekkie and lunch... nuh uh, I googled it and I totally have a very rare form of brain cancer or a genetic blood disorder or possibly both.
Stressing when I don't see your text message for a few days and then I respond and I don't hear back from you straight away, then that means that you hate me and you've probably already stuck eleventy billion pins into a lifelike voodoo doll you made of me.
Of course I'm not brave enough to do that because surely if I do I will make a fool of complete and utter fool of myself, or fail miserably or insert a zillion other lame excuses here.
I have spent SO MANY HOURS, every single day, every single week, EVERY FRICKING YEAR OF MY LIFE sweating the small stuff and making mountains out of nothing and not doing something because I'm too darn chicken... and I am over it.
SO over it.
I've allowed 'worry' and 'anxiety' to make themselves too damn comfortable around here so after a particularly frightening panic attack back at the beginning of this year, I made a decision to ditch my Drama Queen crown and sash once and for all and stop stressing so damn much.
Whilst I haven't yet mastered the finer details of this new goal of mine... I'm getting better at it.
I'm checking myself more frequently and asking myself "is what I am worrying about is worthy of a good worry?" or "does it even warrant a fart of a thought at all?"
I'm making a conscious effort to seriously consider "does this (whatever it may be) really matter?"
I'm challenging myself with "What is the worst that could happen" and "is the worst really all that bad?"
I am asking myself, often throughout the day... "Would I be bothering to spare even a single second of a thought about this if I were lying here on my death bed?"
And you know what?
At least four out of five times, my answer is no and so I tell Chicken Little to "Rack Off".
I'm not going to lie... it still feels kind of clunky at the moment and I have to consciously stop myself from going straight to disaster mode.
I guess you could say I am a work in progress, but regardless - I am really starting to like the freedom that not worrying about quite so much brings to me.
In future I plan on hugging more chickens rather than behaving like one.
Are you ready to tell Chicken Little to Rack off?
Are you an obsessive worrier?
Do you have a Drama Queen sitting on your shoulder?
