I am delighted to share an awesome guest post with you today on my stop on The Five Things Blog Tour by Beth Merwood
For nine-year-old Wendy, the summer of 1969 will never be forgotten.
Local kids have always told stories about the eerie wood on the outskirts of the village, and Wendy knows for sure that some of them are true. Now the school holidays have started and she’s going to the wood again with Anna and Sam, but they soon become convinced that someone is trying to frighten them off.
When a terrible event rocks the coastal community, the young friends can’t help thinking there must be a connection between the incident, the tales they’ve heard, and the strange happenings they’ve begun to witness. As glimpses of a darker world threaten their carefree existence, they feel compelled to search out the underlying truth.
Thoughts On Worrying — Beth Merwood
I’m going to stop writing for a minute or two and catch up on some worrying.
I Googled worrying to see if it is actually bad for you, and apparently, a certain amount of worrying could be good for you. A lot of worrying however, is no good at all.
I’ve become quite interested in worrying, and when I started to think about it, I do worry a lot, but I also manage my worrying.
The word worry does have different meanings, but I am talking about the feeling of anxiety or unease and the niggle that goes on in the background of your day, to do with something or other that you often can do nothing about.
It’s possible that I quite enjoy minor worrying: fretting about forgetting to do things, though I rarely forget. There are the worries I imagine are common: have I left the oven on, the iron on, gone away without closing a window or locking a door. Do I still have my passport in my pocket? Do I still have my credit card in my bag? Those can almost be described as fun worries perhaps, and nearly one hundred percent of the time, when I check, I have done or do have those things — which means there’s a satisfying feeling at the end.
It probably isn’t worth worrying about things we can’t control, but surely it is common to do so. Then there’s feeling worried about other people, and for them, which is also useless, but normal I imagine. Do you worry if your husband or wife or son or daughter has forgotten their passport, key, glasses, will pass their driving test, exam, or will be successful on their first day at work or school or college? Surely we all do. But what use is it really? Maybe it just fills a hole in a place where we are unable to do anything practical to solve the issue. In a way it seems as though we are helping, participating. Occasionally I forget to worry — I’d forgotten you had that doctor’s appointment — and afterwards I feel guilty.
I have learned to avoid significant worrying, but is that good? There are so many big issues to concern us: climate change, wars and famines, getting older. I often try to ignore these. Turn off the news or put the thought out of my mind. Matters such as these can be too overwhelming, stopping you in your tracks, plunging you into an abyss of helpless disillusionment for long periods. We can’t do anything about those things, at least not very much. Or can we? Would it be better to face up to them and do even a small thing: switch off a light, pick up that litter, sign a petition. I don’t really believe there’s nothing we can do, but it doesn’t stop the worrying; the issues are too enormous. At the end of the day, what can help is to find others who are like minded, and the good thing is, they’re out there. I believe we will all help if we know how to, and can afford to, and have the ability to do so; and perhaps even if most of us, or some of us do a small thing, the situation will change.
So it might be good for my health to avoid the issues that are truly unsettling, but is it good in general? Ah, that’s another thing to worry about.
And by the way, what do you worry about?
Beth Merwood is from the south of England. The Five Things is her debut novel.