The hardest part is beginning.
In terms of writing, it is not the wording, syntax, or punctuation that challenges me the most, but the actual act of sifting through my tangled thoughts and sorting them out on paper. These days it’s nearly impossible to find a quiet moment to write, as working retail for 40 hours a week and working on my (terribly dry) summer school class for another 40 leaves me with a little window of time—a handful of hours in which to complete everything on my perpetual to-do list, and the rest of the time to satisfy those pesky “have-to-do’s” like eating and sleeping.Even on the off chance that my surroundings are quiet, my mindis far from peaceful. The interiors of my mind clamor with anxiety, reliving the “what if’s,” the mistakes, the embarrassments, and the “I should have said’s.”
My mind swirls with words, words, words. I am nervous about everything.
Somehow every little thought leads me to a terribly drastic “worst case scenario.” If Mom doesn’t pick up the phone, she either 1) suddenly deeply hates me, 2) got in a terrible accident (God forbid), or 3) has her phone on silent. Naturally and unfortunately, my mind assumes that the first two options are the only plausible explanations for the endless ringing that cuts to an abrupt voicemail message.
I understand that at the root of my anxiety lies a simple inability to trust.
This inability to fully trust God’s plan and let go of my overly controlling tendencies is what allows my trivial anxieties to proliferate dangerously. How foolish I am to assume that my magnificent King won’t take care of me! How shameful it is to think that my own control over a situation will be more successful than all of the wonderful, lovely, sweet possibilities that could stem from His.