Fearful/Anxious Concerns of Late…

What if a snake bites me and I’m all alone up here in the wilderness? At least I’ll make the news, right?

This dress is going to make them think I’m immodest.

I’m sleeping too much! The summer is making me into a lump of laziness!

Maybe I’m incapable of trusting the way that other people trust.

I’m going to get there late and it’s going to ruin everything!

I should probably tell them everything… but what if I don’t? What if I do? (In the words of a wise, fictional stripper: “Secrets, secrets are no fun; Secrets, secrets hurt someone”).

I’m going to eat too much and get fat again, and no amount of running will fix it. None of my clothes will fit anymore.

What if I don’t live up to my reputation? What if he/she/they expect more than what I am?

Pastor Pete is going to hate my painting, isn’t he? But then, he’s going to hang it in the church anyways, because he won’t want to hurt my feelings, and it’s just going to be a reminder to him that he should never agree to anything before he’s seen the final product. He’ll look at me differently, and I’ll know that he hates it, which will make me look at him differently, and I’ll have to switch churches just to get away from the stupid obligation painting I should never have asked to paint!

What if I can’t cry? What if I can’t keep myself from it?

I might hate teaching freshmen.

Maybe my manuscript isn’t something I want my name attached to… but maybe it’s exactly the thing I want my name attached to. Maybe I’ll get it published… oooh, scary. Maybe I won’t ever get published.

He might totally be interested in me. What if I’m disqualified from romance, at least for now? Then, I’m going to miss out! He’s going to find someone else!

I’m going to get addicted to caffeine again, aren’t I?

My car is going to break down, isn’t it? I’m going to get stuck in between Tucson and Phoenix, and I’m totally not ready to buy a new car yet. When does a person even buy a new car? Should I drive the thing into the ground first? Maybe I should not do that, so I don’t get stuck on the road somewhere with no one to rescue me. How long do cars even last?


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