On Worrying Well

I’m older now. It’s a new year, and soon to be a new semester. I’m getting older, driving, and taking almost a full-time college load. There are a lot of great things about my life right now: I have great friends, great classes and teachers, and lots of music to fill my time. I used to worry about my life, but I’m starting to realize that my fears were a bit small-sighted.
I used to worry about my grades at school. I was young to be taking college classes (14), and I thought I might be too young. What if I failed the class? What if the professor hated me because I took his class and failed?
I used to worry about never having friends. I was afraid to talk to new people, because I thought they would reject me because I was awkward. What if I never got the hang of meeting new people?
I used to be worried about how my music sounded when I finished it. I didn’t like the sound of my voice, and I assumed no one else did either. I thought that my piano playing was amateur, and that everyone else hated it. What if my barely new friends decided I was a failure and abandoned me?

I’m older now, and I understand that those fears were small. I’ve done fine in my college classes. I’m starting to more easily talk to new friends, and I realize that my music doesn’t sound bad (sometimes it even sounds good). I was worrying about the wrong things. Maybe I should re-frame my thoughts.
I get good grades at college, but what if I picked the wrong college? My friends are probably judging me for having a lesser college.
I know that I can make friends, but can I keep them? I’m afraid of being too clingy, or scaring them away, so I try to maintain a strong distance from my friends, and never talk to them about my problems. I will post online about my fears, but I don’t talk to my best friend about them.
My friends like my finished music, but what about the process? I’m was super embarrassed when my friend walked in the house in the morning to hang out, because I was warming up. I could just feeling him judging me: “you sound terrible before 10am”.

Earlier this week I started to think: Since my worries before weren’t as bad as I though they were, what if my fears now aren’t as bad as I think they are? What if my friends don’t hate me, or judge me? I should think about this more, but I’m just too busy. I’m older now, and I have more important things to think about, like how to practice music and singing at school without anyone hearing me.

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