I wonder why we worry too much. Of the smallest things, of the slightest hints of troubles. Trifles. We worry too much. Sometimes I think, “Perhaps worry is a disease that never ceases spreading.”
Why, we worry so much we wish it would have been different. But how different can things be? And in the end we worry still. Perhaps worry is a disease. But if worry is a disease, then how sick are we? What end, what cure do we have for worry? Or perhaps it’s not the disease. Perhaps we’re only sick. Of ourselves. Of our life. Life’s worries are but trifles. Yet here we are worrying. We wish our worries gone. But they never do. Because so long as there’s a mind to think, so long there’s space for it to go. And in the end the problem is that worry never did exist. The disease we call worry, is only us wishing things were easy.
Some form of worry is required for self preservation.
Without the worry emotion fear would diminish, without fear we wouldn’t recognize dangerous or potentially threatening situations.
With that being said, excessive worry can lead to health issues including anxiety disorders.
It seems spainach has been infected by the disease as well as he worries about the phenomenon…
Psychoanalysts never cease to be amazed about how focused we all are on the circumstances and people that we felt did us wrong. It’s deeply ingrained in our make up and hard to shake off but not impossible.