Fretting.

Once, when I was at the The Hague International Model United Nations, I sat next to this group of British guys.

I have always been a bucket of stress. Especially in high school, before my depression was sever enough to effect strangers, before anti-depressants, when my chill pill was talking to my future husband for hours on end. He really did save my soul. Regardless, I was probably the kid sitting in my seat the whole time, the only one who hadn’t gone out drinking the night before, or taken advantage of the legal marijuana situation. I was a stickler. And I was stressing. About my fake resolution of course?! What else would a teenager at THIMUN be stressing about?

One morning of the conference I arrived particularly stressed. I was rooming with people I really didn’t care for – the rest of my dear high school friends all signed up for rooms with out me. Yeah, I was the convenient friend for a lot of people. Any way – I was rooming with girls who didn’t like me, and whom I didn’t like. No wondering I was stressed.

That's me, on the left, being a loner.

Now the following is an unfortunate picture of me. I apologize, but I am sharing a closer image of the cute British guy I will never meet again – I don’t even remember his name.

Sorry. Countinuing onward. He turned to me one dreary Netherland morning and said:

Are you fretting? Why are you fretting?

And this question was rephrased and repeated multiple times. All I could think was “Who uses the word ‘fretting’ in everyday speech?”

Okay – onto my point. Since deciding I wanted to ride my bike to school, I have seriously been doing some fretting. I’m worried about my old lady hips. The last time I had problems with them was because of some bike riding – and it resulted in months of physical therapy. Months. I had convinced myself to wait until next week to try and ride my bike in, but I really decided I need to stop fretting and just do it. And if it’s hard, and it sucks, I won’t do it every day. But I realized how easy it was for me to talk myself out of doing it – and that is freaking scary. I am so thankful for all of the encouragement though, because I feel like I am being held responsible, and I would hate to let my blog-friends down. 🙁

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In other news, I think my bout of baby-fever has passed, my ovaries have been tamed, and I think if I were pregnant right now I would be wishing I had waited. Good thing my husband knows how to (occasionally) put his foot down. I have no stamina, and no patience. Really… when I am feeling uninhibited, I am probably one of the least patient people ever. Which is probably why I need to wait to have kids. That and I am trying to convince myself to ride 6 miles on my bike every day.

The End

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3 Comments

  1. I've been out of the loop and enjoyed catching up!!! I need to get back to my own corner of the universe, don't I?

    I'm so sorry to hear of this fretful experience. I don't become fretful so much as . . . catatonic. Wait, who am I kidding – there are the whole, "raging, kicking, slamming, flinging maniac" episodes. Does that count as fretful?

    I am BEYOND impressed that you are thinking about riding your bike to campus!!! I agree that once you just DO it, it won't be so bad . . . but it's hard as hell to get past that wall.

    Darn those husbands' stompy feet. I had a baby right away, and it was perfect. I then had my husband put his foot down for years before having another one . . . and that was so hard. But it turned out to be the BEST thing when I look back because we really WERE in too tiny of a house and it would not have been at all safe with, um . . . the kind of child he was. Not to mention that I don't do well with stress and having two children close together in age (and have I mentioned the kind of child my second one was???) would probably have landed me a trip off the nearest bridge. So sometimes, darn it, the husband's foot can be the wisest thing.

    As much as I hate to admit it.

    Longest comment evarrr.

  2. Kids are great, the don't go away so make sure your ready b/c when the arrive you can't put them back. It's a life changing experience that's for the rest of your days. Motherhood Rocks no doubt. Take it easy and try not to fret so much 🙂

    Cheers!

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