The question most worriers are familiar with usually begins with the words “What if?” At this very moment, if you try to complete the question with all the things you can think of that could go wrong, I imagine you’ll have a long list. For grievers, the list also applies backwards. You worry forward, you regret backwards.

Once you start this habit, it’s hard to let it go. In fact, you may not even be aware of it. The worry or the regrets are background noise, like a television or radio. The persistent state of vague anxiety can even shape your life. You’ll make choices based on the question, choose or forego relationships, make work and financial decisions based on a perception of outcome that may not be true.

I’m a pretty regular worrier. It gives me a misconception of control. I think if I worry about a potential bad outcome, I’ll make better choices. Sometimes, of course, this is true. The worry causes me to consider options so I can resolve an upcoming problem and stop worrying. But I never saw it becoming a habit, and now it zaps my perfectly-decent moments of what should be peace.

The thing that makes a worry useful or pointless is control. What I should be asking after a “What if” question is, “Can I do something about this?” Or, “Should I do something about this? Is it my place?” Because I’ve found that if I don’t have enough worry in my own life, I can get a full-time job worrying about others.

My current worry is that I’ll be widowed again, have to go through it all over. I definitely have no control over that and, yet, I catch myself thinking about what I might do to make it easier next time. This is an absurd waste of life. So my plan now is to imagine that the opposite will happen, that I’ll go first. That’s not pleasant either but it keeps me from getting stuck in the groove of my familiar worry habit.

Regret is not something I’ve had much of, fortunately. Especially in grief. There was (mostly) nothing I could have done to change the outcome. Notice that I inserted some room for worrying even in my empty regrets. I’ve heard lots of grievers say they wish they had loved better, been kinder, more patient, more present for the person who’s now gone. I remember saying early on that had I known we’d have such a short time together, I’d never have chosen to spend a day apart.

But we don’t know who we’re going to lose or when. Maybe the choice you make today to connect with one person over another will turn into a future cherished memory. That’s all we’ve really got: choices and memories. Try to clear your mind, let a deep breath refresh your soul, exhale your troubles. Point your thoughts toward simple contentment and away from worry and regret. Let that cleanness of spirit be the habit you work toward. It gets easier with time.

More:

Creating a Place to Comfort Grief

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