I need to start this blog post with a bit of a confession.
I am a what-iffer. If you are one, too, you already know exactly what I mean, but for those who don’t, here’s an explanation.
What-iffers are world-class worriers. You probably know one or two.
Fail to answer your phone when we call? Within seconds, we have constructed half a dozen vividly detailed scenarios that leave you dead, maimed, or otherwise incapacitated. Late meeting us somewhere? In our logical minds, we know that you probably just took too long in the shower, but that does not stop our what-if brains from imagining you in a fiery ten-car pileup on the highway, even if there is no highway in your town. We excel at imagining worst-case scenarios.
People who live with what-iffers find ways to adapt to this and comfort us. One summer a few years ago, my son…
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