would i be me if i didn't worry myself so much that i can't sleep?

i don't think so.

i remember the day i realized that i couldn't get out of bed without cataloging my worries each morning.

i worry for hours, until i tire myself of it and drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night so i can worry some more.

i find myself clenching and grinding my teeth more and more often.

i wish it weren't so.

have i inherited this, is it a cultural legacy that's been left to me? my parents and grandparents had to leave their homes in the middle of the night--has spending a lifetime tracing their scars created some of my own?

my physical therapist told me that i am the biggest empath she's treated in twenty-five years. i always want to know what's brought the other patients there, and every time i end up hating insurance companies and evil corporations, wanting to hug these strangers and tell them they'll be okay. i want to tell them not to give up, that they'll regain the use of their hands, to keep fighting for what they deserve. i want to give them hope when they have none.

but what about me? what about my hopes? will i be okay?

i'd rather worry than leave it to chance.

1 comment:

  1. samin! i'm exactly the same way. i think that's why i'm a farmer--i can actually feel the needs of the animals, like telepathy. once they are happy, i'm happy. and you must be the same way as a chef.
    have you read any octavia butler? she has this cool character in one of her books, parable of the sower, who is paralyzed when other people experience pain or misery. i'll bring it to the resto next time.