I have to admit that I have always been a worrier. I can’t exactly pinpoint to moment when I first feel prey to anxieties but I suspect that the origin or my concerns came when my favorite uncle died and I was suddenly sent to the first grade without so much as a warning. My memories before that time are of a happy go lucky soul with a kind of innocence that was unaware of the possibility of bad things happening to me or my family. For the first time in my life I began to consider negative possibilities that might rear their ugly heads to inflict pain and sorrow on my family. My innocence was somehow challenged in that fateful moment and the brave side of my personality was a bit more afraid than it had once been. 

With the help of a very loving family and lots of good friends I eventually got over the anxiety that followed my uncle’s death. He had been wise enough to warn me that he might not be able to overcome the cancer that kept returning to his body. He had done so in an honest and gentle way as though he understood how much I would need his reassurance that his fate was simply part of life. 

Just when things felt calm and reasonable again my father announced with hopeful glee that we were moving from our home in Texas to California. He was an adventurous soul who had lived in many different places when he was a child. He loved the idea of seeing new sights and accepting new challenges. I, on the other hand, was not so sure that I was ready to have my life upended once again. Nonetheless, as a child I had little say in the matter and so off we went to San Jose where I felt the same kind of unease that had enveloped me right after my uncle had died. Leaving the security of the school that I loved and the friends who meant so much to me was too much like suffering another grave loss. Still, I was determined to adjust to my new reality no matter how frightening it was for me. 

I was eight years old and the coming months would be some of the most tumultuous of my life. Not only was I miserable in San Jose but it seems that my father was as well. Before we even got settled he announced that he had quit his job and that we would head to Los Angeles where he had relatives that I had never met. They were going to help him find work in the bustling city where he believed there would be many opportunities. 

The very first day that we arrived at our temporary home the agent who had rented the place to my parents instructed us on what to do in the event of an earthquake. She was rather explicit about the dangers and so I had yet another thing to put in my bucket of worries. Ironically we ended up watching a movie that night with Spencer Tracy and Clark Gable that focused on the devastating disaster there early in the twentieth century. So I began to think deeply about what I would do if the earth began to shake beneath my feet.

School was better in Los Angeles and I found myself quickly making friends even though I was somewhat shy. We would visit the relatives who seemed to be delighted that we might put down roots and be near them for a long time, but they were older than my parents and certainly not as wonderful as my grandparents so I did not take to them the way I should have done. 

When my father was still unable to find work we were on the road again back to Texas where all of us would feel a bit more normal. Our first stop was in Corpus Christi where my father had gone to high school and became friends with my uncle who had died. Because my aunt lived nearby and we had visited her many times before I was comforted by the move. School was great as well ,but best of all my father would show me around the town that he so loved. Some afternoons he would take me and my brothers to the bay where he liked to fish. He talked about his love of the ocean and would spin tales of his adventures with my uncle. I saw that he was happy again and it made me relax and enjoy those moments with him.

Even though I was only a child somehow I began to understand how much he too had been grieving over the loss of my uncle. The death of his best friend had haunted him and led him to a desire to delve into new adventures as a panacea. Realizing that my father was anxious too somehow calmed me down. I felt really good for the first time in a long time. 

Good luck was evasive for my father. He found no jobs in Corpus Christi but he was instead hired for a job back in Houston. At the very end of the school year we closed the circle of our adventure. Things were looking up and feeling normal once again. I was even seeing many of my old friends and enjoying Friday nights with my aunts and uncles and cousins. Then came the whammy that seemed to insure that I would always be a cautious worried soul. My father died in a car accident just as our family life was settling down into familiar patterns. 

I have learned how to tame my worries over time. Nonetheless there is always an element of anxiety lurking in the back of my mind. Experiences have taught me that challenges are an inevitable aspect of life. I tend to be ready for the next shoe to drop even as I sometimes grow wary when my world is going well. The history of my life has shown me that problems come along without warning and so I must always be ready to respond. 

My cautiousness has been both a positive and a negative in my life. I don’t allow my self to take too many chances but I also plan and double plan for the surprises that always seem to come. I have had to learn how to live in the happy moments without thinking too much about what might happen to change things. I suppose that like most humans I try to find balance as I walk on a tightrope with dangers lurking beneath my feet. All in all I have found ways to savor the joys of life with gusto but also be ready for anything. I tend to live one moment at a time because I have learned that changes come without warning. Rather that constantly worrying I focus on taking on step at a time in the journey of life. One thing that I know for certain is that I always find ways to adapt and friends to help me through any trials that come along. 

The little voice that warns me to be careful is mostly quiet but always there. I suppose that such is the fate of every person who has ever lived. I now know that my story has not defined me but has made me more aware of the need to embrace joy whenever it comes into my life. My fears have actually made me strong and so much more loving. Life does not determine who we are but it does have an impanct on how we react. What a gift my story has been!