I’m a worrier.

I mean that broadly and specifically and every way in between. I worry about everything. I worry about things that could happen, things that will never happen, and things that could’ve happened. (Which makes SO much sense. *typed with all the sarcasm*)

A few days ago, I actually wrote that down: I am a worrier. I was fretting over something (that could happen!) and making myself sick. As I sat at my desk and doodled around my statement, the stems and petals from the flowers I’d drawn at the top of the page dangled down and made worrier look like warrior.

I sat back and looked at that again.

I am a warrior.

A warrior? No. Not me. But, I’ll be honest with you, I LIKED IT. I like the feel of that. I liked the sound of the word ‘warrior’ as it slipped off my tongue as I said it aloud in the safety of my office.

I am a warrior.

Surely, I liked this better than the sound of ‘worrier’ when I said it into the room. The taste of ‘warrior’ was sweeter, more victoriousβ€”made me feel a bit like Lagertha in Vikings. πŸ˜‰

I left my office and went to make dinner (Chili, if you’re wondering). That line rang through my head like a catchy pop song: I am a warrior.

The longer I lived with this idea in my head, the less I laughed at it and the more I felt comfortable in the syllables. It was in the back of my mind when I went to battle with my kid over their math homework and when I revisited the original topic I was worrying over in this story. I had it tucked at the back of my brain when a man tried to step in front of me at the deli and when I found the courage to ask someone if they needed help.

You know what I realized? You are what you think. It sounds stupid and cheesy and SO self-help, but, people, it’s true. You. Are. What. You. Think. You are your thoughts. You are what you allow to obsess you.

Did my problems go away? Ha. Nope. Did my life get easier? Nada. Did I suddenly receive all the answers from the heavens? I wish, dude.Β  But I did get something. Confidence. A bit of peace. A stillness in my body that feels a lot like a sword when riding into battle … even if the battle is with myself over whether I should’ve eaten that donut this morning. (I shouldn’t have.) Or if it’s over whether I paid a bill eighteen years ago or whether my kids have had all their vaccinations or whether I turned off my curling iron or whether the sixteenth “t” is crossed in my first novel.

*sighs*

My question to you is this: What do you want to be? A worrier or a warrior?

Say it out loud. Say, “I’m Adriana Locke (but use your name! Ha!) and I’m a worrier”. Then try it with warrior. See if you don’t feel a little badass. πŸ˜‰

You get to decide who you are and the biggest factor in that is what you tell yourself you are.

xo

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