I spend a lot of time, a lot a lot a lot of time with my daughter, begging her not to overanalyze every little thing she does. What's done is done! You can't undo it, so why worry about it! No one pays that much attention to you anyway! (Yeah, I know that last one sounds mean; I'm addressing the fact that she believes everybody is watching her every second and judging her harshly for, like, having a serious expression on her face.)
I'm pretty eloquent on the subject. So why can't I follow that advice myself?
I'm flogging myself this morning for speaking up in a meeting last night, going over and over everything I said and wondering if people are now thinking, "That Terri! Why doesn't she just stop talking!" Then, too, I'm obsessing over something I didn't speak up about, and worrying that I let something that's wrong go into the record.
Honestly, sometimes it's hard to believe that my daughter is not related to me by blood. My mother passed the worry-over-every-little-thing gene to me, and I thought my next generation would escape it -- but either my girl's birthmother had the same family trait, or this is more of a nurture than a nature thing.
So now, I'm going to have to analyze every little thing I've done that brought her to this anxious place. Ack!