Caring too much is a thing and I’m doing it

I always listed “caring too much” as one of those things that’s just not really possible. I thought if I was doing it, it’s because I’m just a “good person”. However, my recent walk near the graveyard left me with the realization that almost every thing I do (or did before then) was out of fear. The big “what if” questions drove me nearly to insanity with any and every action that I did. That includes how much I care about… well… everything. What people think, how well I preform in school, my weight, and anything else. It wasn’t the healthy kind of concern, as in I wanted things to get better. But rather, the negative kind of over-concern, where I am afraid that making the wrong move will cause my destruction. The fear of my imminent doom (caused by me), even with tiny things, drove me to anxiety attacks that would wake me up from my sleep.

I know it’s not healthy, but it’s the way that I’ve learned to live. And what’s sad is that I’m realizing that I’m not actually living at all. I’d even go as far as to say that I’m dying and fear is the killer. But how do I make myself care less, without becoming a selfish person? A friend of mine made a good example yesterday. She said I should get to a point where if someone were to tell me that my home burned down, that my response would be something like “Oh well. Thank goodness my grandma has a home that I can stay at.” It sounds extreme and almost unrealistic, but she’s right. I could focus on the (impending) disaster or spend my energy keeping my eyes set on the bright future that I know is ahead of me. God said “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11) I had been trying to teach my kids at Sunday school to make scripture relevant to themselves and to talk with someone when they feel like they’re struggling. I should be taking my own advice.

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