I won’t be able to support my parents when they get old ):
That I will outlive my children.
That I won’t find The One in time to have kids…or maybe not at all.
insouciance.
My upcoming divorce, the logistics of sharing a child I love with a man I don’t, and coming home alive from work every day.
That I’ll never get a real job again, (instead of this week by week temp stuff, that you never know if it’ll materialize till you get up each morning)
That I won’t last till 2014 so I can see a doctor again, not to mention that my teeth hold out till I can see a dentist.
That I’ll never be able to live in a building were everyone in it isn’t some kind of a crook or druggie.
And that’s just the starters.
My lunch partner has gone missing.
That I’m going to totally screw up my kids.
That I’m never going to find my passion in life.
That I will be unable to live independently.
That I will be unable to afford basic medical care.
That I will be unable to afford necessary medications.
That I will end my days in a nursing home.
That Sarah Palin might actually be elected POTUS.
That Kendra will decide to have breast reduction surgery. (I’m watching her jump and jiggle at the moment. I’m old, forgive me.)
I need a reason to be worried?
That the housing bubble isn’t finished and the next wave of unemployed people who run out of benefits will trigger more bank failures.
I won’t be able to pay off my student loans.
That the dude I’m seeing just isn’t the one and I’m gonna have to go without sex for an indeterminate period while I look for a new man.
Really, though, I don’t have too much to worry about. I’m really feeling like I’m in my prime right now.
That I won’t have enough money to retire on, and that I’ll have to work until I’m 70.
That I won’t ever be able to afford to buy a house in the town where I’m moving soon.
That the neighborhood around the house I still own in suburban Cleveland will turn into a slum, and that I’ll never recover my equity from it, much less break even.
That my father will die in a nursing home.
That I won’t live long enough to see my baby son (almost one year old now) through his major milestones.
All other worries, about finances and employment for example, pale in comparison.
The baggage retrieval system that they’ve got at Heathrow.
Statistics test (12/4) and my (second) worker’s comp hearing (12/2)
I have lots of things I’m worried about but these are my most immediate concerns.
Boss just revealed our small start-up isn’t going to plan; he assured us that we are still afloat. But the fatality rate of start-ups in general keep haunting me.
And that I would never make into the games industry.
I’m going to be out of a job next month (graduating, bye-bye student job)
How long will my 200,000 mile, 10 year old car last?
Student loan payments start in 6 months
Is my mom’s new husband psychotic? (He really creeps me out sometimes)
How do I really feel about my girlfriend?
Did I pick the wrong major?
That it’s been two and a half years since I’ve had a job that lasted more than three months. There’s enough in the bank for two more months rent if I don’t turn on the heat. I’m in my late Fifties and my health coverage ended two years ago. I puke my guts out twice amonth for no apparent reason and there’s blood in the bowl every I visit the restroom, but since it cost $4000 for that one emergency room visit to determine I wasn’t going to keel over immediately, I won’t be visiting any more doctors soon.
Thanks to everyone who opposes healthcare reform. Thanks to those bankers who are upset that their bonuses were less than a million bucks last year even though they contributed to an economic meltdown. Thanks to both political parties for doing what was best for your re-election campaign coffers. Thanks to me for making the choices that put me in this position.
That I won’t find an antidepressant that works, and that I will stay like this forever. Fuckfuckfuck.