When I’m irritable and grumpy, I lose all sense of proportion. Having trouble with a new painting, putting the wrong milk in my coffee, and missing my dead husband on a national holiday all upset me equally.
Or perhaps they accumulate, so by the time the minor irritation shows up, I just feel I can’t take any more.
I’m not sure if this lack of proportionality affects positive things as well. I walked down to the end of our road to the mailbox late yesterday afternoon and saw the most beautiful sky. Then one of my neighbors came by and told me his wife had used my piecrust recipe in the pie she baked for Thanksgiving.
“How did it turn out?” I asked.
“It was great,” he said.
A few minutes of fresh air, a visual gift from nature, and a friendly exchange with a neighbor—all felt equally good. The cumulative effect was the feeling of being at peace with the world.
Worrying is another arena where I have no sense of proportion. I’m anxious, for example, about having two lines in a scene for the showcase my play-writing class is presenting to the college campus. I didn’t know I’d have to act in front of an audience when I signed up for this class.
I’m also anxious about the scene from my play the students will perform that day. I worry about having the right props, about students forgetting to bring their scripts, or messing up their lines.
I’m not taking this class for credit. There is no consequence, other than embarrassment, no matter what happens on the day of the showcase presentation.
My daughter—who has been to these events before--keeps telling me it is a low-key affair, that people will just be enjoying themselves, and I should lighten up.
I’m not the kind of person who lightens up.
I painted several commissions recently, and I’m sending photos of them off to my clients. I’m anxious about how the paintings will be received, but frankly, much less anxious about that than I am about the upcoming play showcase.
My daughter reminds me that when she was a young girl and anxious about something, I’d tell her, “Imagine the worst that could happen. If it does, will it be that terrible?”
She said my advice helped.
But I’ve never been good at taking my own advice.
