The doctor actually replied by saying that yes, it was possible, but not likely. At nine years old, that wasn’t very comforting to hear, but he was a doctor, so I figured he knew what he was doing and trusted him without ever questioning anything again.
After September 11, 2001, though, my mind went into overdrive and my worrying intensified. As I think back to that time period a decade later, to my surprise, my worrying did not get worse immediately after those tragic events. In the days following the tragedies, I was focused on what had happened and how the nation would recover. In fact, only a few months after September 11, I flew on an airplane; I was determined to keep living a normal life without fear.
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| Ground Zero in 2003. |
But for some reason, time did not heal all of the wounds for me. As more time went by, the more worried I became that there could be another attack. Believe it or not, though, about two years after 9/11, I visited New York City for the first time and paid my respects at Ground Zero. Was I worried about something happening? As far as I can remember, no. A few years later, I visited New York City again, and this time, I worried the entire time I was at the airport and on the airplane. In fact, I stressed myself out so much that I now have reappearing red marks on my forehead (which I have worried about and got checked out and shouldn’t be anything to worry about).
I’m not sure why I worried more on my second trip to New York City than on my first one, but since 9/11, I tend to worry more about little things. I also worry more about things that could happen. So why do I worry like this? I think it’s because what happened on September 11 was so unexpected. It made me rethink what’s important and how precious life is, so much so that I can’t seem to stop over thinking, well, everything.
While I will always remember those who lost their lives on 9/11, I also need to remember that worrying can’t fix problems or prevent them. As much as I would like to think that my worrying is somehow helping me or the world, it isn’t.
Que Sera Sera, right?
