Who am I?

Recently, I've rediscovered my love for the show House. You know, the one with the not-so-nice doctor who habitually gulps down Vicodin and then saves people's lives. Yes, I'm aware that this is a hallmark example of ridiculous prime time television that is not at all congruent with the actual practice of medicine. Yes, I realize that acting that way in real life will most certainly end in a malpractice suit...take note, med school friends. I must admit, though, I find the character of Dr. House fascinating. He's cantankerous at best, overly self-involved, and brilliant at diagnostics. He's a soul in torment, haunted by his own health issues and the ghosts of his past relationships. In one episode, another character on the show commented that House is afraid to let himself be happy in a relationship because he's afraid that his misery is what makes him who he is. He's afraid that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose that edge that identifies him as special, that keeps him objective, and what makes him known in his field. At first, I thought something along the lines of "that's ridiculous," and then I realized that I can see that in myself, at times.

I worry. I could waste lines and lines here listing the things of the past, present, and future that I dedicate worrying to, but I won't. I'm learning to let go, and I'm realizing that this has to be self-taught. No matter how many people tell me, "Don't worry, it'll be ok," that doesn't change me. That doesn't change the roots of my worry, and that doesn't change the way that I respond to my worries. Worry can be protective in some ways; it can lead to planning and action, which could lead to a path of future success, or it could save someone's life in an emergency situation. When worry ceases to be protective, however, is when it does not lead to action. Worrying without limits is like weeds in a garden; it eventually chokes out the goodness.

I'm coming to realize that I often tend to over-identify with my worries as a core part of who I am. Part of me wants this to change, and the other part of me isn't ready to give it up yet (homeostasis, anyone?). I feel comfortable with my worry, and giving up that worry means trusting others and God....which is a whole other blog topic. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with my endless search for finding ways to manage my worries, I remind myself that it's a process. It takes time. Worry has plagued humanity since ancient times. I am more than my worry, and it's simply a piece of the puzzle of me.

What are you hesitant to give up about yourself?