You know how you had life planned out...what you wanted and expected? Then, despite all the planning and dreaming, it didn’t turn out exactly how you thought it would. Looking back over my life, expectations, and hopes for the future, many things are different than I thought. And almost without exception, even when I couldn't see the road ahead, much turned out better than I could have envisioned.

She told me the story of her grandson’s death. He was five and the favorite of her four grandchildren. It was a tragic accident – too horrifying to recount the details here. She shared those details in my Beginning Again grief group a year after his death. Even though it was many years ago, I’ll never forget her story. And I will never forget her response to his death.

Looking back, I suspect I lived a good portion of my life in chronic fear… fear of not being good enough, fear of failure, fear of disappointing someone, fear of others’ opinions, fear of financial dependency or ruin, fear of being homeless, fear of deep water, and those are the fears that immediately come to mind.

He was walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the video on his iPhone. There was no awareness of the uncovered manhole ahead, until he found himself tumbling into semi-darkness, 10-feet underground. Stunned, but coming to his senses, he yelled for someone to come to his aid, to help him out of the deep hole. He heard a voice above him – the voice of a priest. Thank God, he thought. The priest offered a prayer on his behalf, and walked on.

Water has always frightened me, probably because I grew up in land-locked Oklahoma with few opportunities to become comfortable swimming or water skiing. In the water, I felt out of my element and scared. It was okay to be “around water” …playing in the lawn sprinkler or splashing in a shallow pool, but being “in the water,” in the deep end of a pool or in a lake or ocean, well, that was a panic attack waiting to happen.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve listened to another’s story of distress, fear, or grief. Each one shared with me that when talking to someone about what they were going through, the typical response went something like this: “Well, let me tell you about…my cancer diagnosis, my cousin’s cancer diagnosis, my ex, my dysfunctional boss, my struggle with depression, my loss, etc., etc…”

Why is it so hard to ask for what you need? Maybe saying “I need…” feels selfish. The traditional roles of women as nurturers and caregivers have programmed us to consider everyone else’s needs ahead of our own, so needs often go unspoken and unaddressed. That’s not unique to either gender though, as men may have unexpressed needs as well.

I think busyness has become an addiction. I learned years ago that being busy was admired, and it felt so good when someone asked how my day was going and I responded “Busy!” It made me feel important and needed. It’s taken years for me to learn that I am important and needed even when I’m not crazy busy multitasking and filling every waking moment working through a to-do list and tending to other’s needs. Once those habits are developed, it’s challenging to make changes that include solitude and quiet. Yet research tells us that doing so is in our best interests and actually helps us function more effectively and with less stress.

I spent years becoming a really good worrier. I probably could get a medal for Outstanding Worrier of the Year. Normally I would feel great about doing something really well. But being one of the best worriers around left me feeling depleted, unsettled, anxious. Now I’ve spent many more years learning how not to be a good worrier. It’s a work in progress.