My family and I are returning home after an out of state wedding. We are traveling in four different cars to comfortably accommodate everyone for the six hour drive. After church, we say goodbye to Tony's aunt and cousin and his cousin leaves me with these parting words.
"Drive safe everyone."
I tear up and she notices.
"What?" she questions.
"I take that so serious as I always fear someone is going to have an accident or we won't make it home safe."
Her face is sympathetic and invites me to continue. I do, and I release a lost story I didn't know was at the core of my fears.
"My dad always worried excessively when we traveled and it was because when he was just a young boy, his aunt Mary and her family were traveling on the interstate and were killed in a car accident. Out of their three children, one daughter survived. My father had to accompany his father to pick up the bodies and bring them home."
My husband's cousin's face is still sympathetic, but she surprises me.
"Stop it. Just stop it."
Her words are the most sympathetic she could ever speak.
I have to change.
Long practiced, fast held habits are hard to break. But consciousness is the first step to recovery and I am slightly devastated when one of my new son-in-laws tells me I've passed my fears on to his new wife, my daughter.
It's a troublesome, thinking trait to bestow on someone I love so very much.
She's cursed with the worry that every time her husband is late, it's because he's been in an accident. She's cursed with the worry that a future child will die young. I feel terrible, but I'm not sure I can undo the damage.
This fear extends to myself, and I can also trace this fear to my father. Each time he traveled he would say to his children, "When my plane hits the side of the mountain..." and then my mother would take me to the safety deposit box, so I would know what to take out if the plane hit the side of the mountain.
But it never did.
Stop it. Just stop it.
I recently leased a car for three years and after doing so, it occurred to me I might die before the lease is up.
I asked if the lease would be void.
The lease was paid in full, so someone would just have to keep the car until the lease expired. I started thinking about which family member would benefit most from the use of a free car.
Stop it. Just stop it.
When I expressed my concern about the car lease to Tony, I started laughing at my own ridiculousness.
Step number two to letting go of irrational and debilitating fear: recognizing the ridiculousness and having a good self laugh.
I couldn't have imagined that step number three would include my new son-in-law. He, my daughter, and I go rollerblading in the canyon. They are young and carefree, but I appropriately protect myself. They are ready to take off, but I'm putting on my knee pads, my elbow pads and my wrist guards. The pressure must have gotten to me, because we are a hundred yards away from the car when I realize I've left off my wrist guards. I panic and tell my companions. I'm thinking I'll have to turn around and put them on.
My son-in-law just ahead of me, yells out, "It's a choice Pat. It's a choice."
His admonishment stings, but it's a good sting. I repeat to myself, It's a choice Pat, it's a choice. And so it is.