Worry worry worry

Being the sandwiched generation is defined by worry.

Every day you worry about your kid.
Every day you worry about your elderly parents.

Worry when they cough.
Worry if they slip and fall.
Worry how well they sleep.
Worry where they are going.
Worry who they are exposed to.
Worry about e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.

Every day, every week, there’s new things to get worried about. Or a rehash of old things.

This week, it was a particularly lethal virus that got everyone else in the household sniffing, dry coughing and wheezing all day all night. Except me. Last man standing, as always. Worse is, I’m a light sleeper, so I wake at the sound of a cough. For sure, that hyper-vigilance isn’t helpful. It stresses me out by day even while I try to focus on my work, and it wrecks my sleep by night. But I can’t help it.

Always listening out when they might need help, or intervention.

Worry worry worry.