by Karen Frazier, Managing Editor
Paranormal Underground Magazine

Sometimes I lay awake at night and worry. I worry that there isn’t enough time. I worry that there’s not enough money. I worry that I am not enough. I worry about my health. I worry about my family. I worry.

This is when my worries come. When I am alone in the darkness with nothing more than my thoughts to keep me company. And when those worries come, I forget for a moment that I am snuggled warm and safe in the world’s softest bed with the world’s greatest husband sleeping next to me and the world’s greatest kids sleeping upstairs. In the midst of worry, I forget that everything is okay. In the midst of worry, I forget that I am okay.

Worry comes naturally to me. I am at least a third generation worrier. I don’t really know about the generations before that, but I’m guessing there were worriers there, too. When I was at my worrying worst, I could take anything and turn it into a night of insomnia. Back then, I didn’t have the coping skills that I have gained over a lifetime. As a child, I frequently lost entire nights of sleep from worry, had stomach aches from worry and even worried myself sick. Literally.

My father used to say that 95% of the things you worried about last year didn’t happen. I’m guessing that, for me, the actually figure was closer to about 99%. And yet I embraced worry – and made myself miserable in the process.

Now worry is confined to an occasional bout that lasts a few minutes until I remember that in this moment, I am perfectly safe. My mattress supports me. I am breathing. I am not in pain. These smaller gratitudes lead to larger ones. I was raised in a nuclear family with two parents. I have good kids. I have a great husband. I love the way my Pomeranian, Sofie, uses her wiggly ears to express how she’s feeling. The sunlight slanted through the kitchen windows today and illuminated the room in a way that took my breath away. I made delicious soup for dinner. My dog, Peanut, is curled up in the tiniest ball you could ever imagine a dog to be in and snuggled into the small of my back. Jim made me laugh today. My friends are amazing. I am pursuing my life’s passion professionally.

One after the other, my blessings crowd around me, easing away the worry and reminding me of what a truly blessed life I live. From this perspective, the worries that seemed so profound and insurmountable just moments ago now seem trite, selfish and even silly.

What if the worst thing I worry about truly happened? I’d still be sitting. Or standing. Or lying down. I’d still be a writer. I’d still feel the sun shining on my face and have my dog curled up in my back. I’d still know how to make delicious soup. I would still love everyone that I love. That’s the simple truth of it. And that is why I can sleep at night.