I worry too much...

I worry too much in general, but I also worry far too much about what other people think. This needs to stop. It's something Mr. Random and I have been working on. I feel like I may have blogged about this before...but in any case it's coming up now and I'll just blog about it again if I did.

When we were debating on the short sale/foreclose the house issue - one of our big concerns was what people would think of us. Primarily our families, but friends too.

Why?

Do those people have to live every day in our shoes? No, they do not. They may be family, but have they been there? Exactly where we are in trying to make this decision? No, they have not. And when you get down to it - we bought the house entirely on our own. No help from family. No loan from parents. 100% on our own. So that should mean the decision is 100% our own.

So why is that so hard? I can reason through it, it's very logical...and yet...I worry. I get anxiety. I stress. It's not healthy.

It's the same with the baby stuff. I worry about what people will think. What's wrong with me? Here we are, blessed, truly blessed, with a small miracle of life (it's a blueberry size right now, so that's what I mean by small) and I'm worried about what people will think?

I have got to get over this.

We ran into some old friends recently - they'd lived at the same apartment complex we did when we first moved to Phoenix, but they bought a condo the same time we bought our house and we kind of just lost contact with each other. But the husband (it's a married couple), it turns out, is finishing up his PhD and works in the same building I do on campus! How about that? And his wife drops him off around the same time my husband drops me off, so we bumped into each other. I love small world moments.

Anyway, we set up a dinner date with them, which transpired yesterday. It was really fun to catch up, the food was good, it was overall a great success of an evening. And we're invited to their Superbowl party (score!). Oddly, the conversation turned to babies and they were asking when we were going to get on that...since they literally have no connection to anyone else we know...we figured what the hell. So we told them. It was fun. They were appropriately excited and encouraging. And they know where I am in academia and thought it was a perfect time while I have a flexible schedule. This gave me some hope. But then, when we asked them when they were getting on the "train" (which I guess if they're having infertility problems would be somewhat insensitive, but they brought it up first, so I think we're good) and the wife said that now would just be a bad time for them with them moving this summer for the husband's new job (he's graduating in June and then starting a post-doc in another state).

And that's what started to rankle. It shouldn't, but it did. We're moving too. We have no idea when because it depends on whether or not we get an offer on our house, and if we do, if the bank will accept it. Which, by the way, we have had 0 showings of our home. So far, there have been 0 people interested. Which, is awesome. The realtor says it's because there are sooo many homes available in our town. Sigh.

But all the doubts started creeping back in. And I wondered if they'd known the WHOLE story - that we're short selling our house, and moving, who knows when, and that Mr. Random's income is sadly slightly less than mine and I'm a flippin grad student, and all that other drama, drama, drama, if they would not have been as excited. If maybe they'd think we were a little crazy.

And, I guess I am. Here I am, worrying about what they might think, if they know the whole story. How messed up is that?

So, I know that I need to move past this. I need to start believing that Mr. Random and I are in charge of our own lives, and everyone else can be damned, no matter what they think. If they support us, super! If they think we're idiots, they can keep it to themselves. If they can't keep it to themselves, then I should laugh at their inappropriate judgement (because that would be, really) and not let it get to me.

Now. Where to find that tougher skin?