For those of you who take the time to read my editorial, I want to thank you, because I do genuinely put a lot of effort and feeling into these pieces. I committed myself to several topics in the previous issue for the upcoming papers, and although I will try to stick to those as best I can, at times I will have to digress somewhat. Right now I must do this before I tackle an issue I committed to in the previous issue. Firstly I want to comment on the first issue. I believe that it was, for the most part, very successful. I want to thank my staff writers, copy editors and layout editors for helping make it a success. I am beginning to learn that being EIC is never a path one should take alone. In particular, I want to thank Leah Kristufek, Krishna Iyer, and Lucas Hudson for their long hours last weekend. As the term goes on our labouring is not only producing a great paper, but it is also further developing friendships that I hope to last well beyond my last issue. I also want to add that there are few people that make me laugh harder than Krishna Iyer; his comic relief, as well as superb layout ability, will be greatly missed by this newspaper after he graduates this spring.
Of course, there were some mistakes. As was pointed out to me many, many times by my friends who enjoy the challenge of the bi-weekly crossword, two clues were missing. I failed to catch this as I placed the crossword after releasing the draft, I apologize for this. I do however want to thank Nancy Hui for creating the crossword last minute on Sunday evening before Monday deadline. It is commitments like these in my times of need that I most appreciate. I apologize for failing to catch the missing clues, but hey, it made it more challenging, right? Overall I commend my staff for constructing a good issue, and as those close to me can attest to, I am very, very proud of it.
Before I start on to my main topic of the issue I just want to throw in a quick thanks to my roommate, Andrew McMahon. This term we signed a four month sublet with Domus housing, a mistake we plan not to make again. After the first giant snow storm of term, the contractors hired to clear our property did not make much of an effort on our rather large driveway. So for the first three weeks of term I was basically forced into off-roading to get into and out of our driveway, aggressively speeding up to land in a small, partially shovelled patch in front of the garage. Last weekend I came back to Waterloo from home to find a completely cleared driveway. Andrew had spent two and a half hours shovelling, an act he claimed that was simply a distraction from studying. When I choose not to study, I watch an episode of Breaking Bad; I do not spend two and a half hours shovelling thousands of pounds of snow to clear a driveway. What made this act of generosity all the more impressive, and what is very typical of Andrew, is that he did not mention a word of it until I naïvely took notice of it a day later. Like always, he expected no credit for his kindness. I am lucky to count Andrew as one of my closest friends, and I hope that these measly 250 words show some appreciation for the countless acts of kindness (all completely platonic, for the record) that he has done for me over our three years at UW. Also, Andrew provides a perfect segue to the main topic of this editorial. If I could borrow one characteristic of my friend it would be some of his laid back demeanour, because, as my friends and family can corroborate (and with great amounts of evidence), I am a victim of a condition that many of us struggle with all the time: worry.
I think that worry is a misunderstood term, or perhaps I just interpret it differently. Many treat it as harmless and typical. To me, worry is much more. It is generally a negative, destructive thing. If uncontrolled, it is overwhelmingly a waste of time and energy that is bad for your mental and physical state. It acts as both a barrier to success and a reminder of failure. Worry can inhibit performance, destroy relationships, ruin experiences, and tear us down when we feel good. Anybody who knows me well claims that I am a “worry wart,” and I think that in the past it has led to some serious self-derision and many missed experiences. I regret this, but as I grow older and learn to deal with my worry more effectively, I also see its values. In the next 1 200 words I want to outline how worry has helped me, harmed me, and how you can use worry to your advantage.
Some of my earliest memories are of worry. I remember at four years old, my parents took me to the arena to learn to skate. I think my dad was hoping for the next Wayne Gretzky. What he got instead was a sobbing four year old who was too worried about injury and being judged by others to try something new. Thankfully, he got over it pretty quickly. It took me a lot longer. For many years afterward, extending into my adolescence, I was never comfortable as an athlete. The cause of this was twofold and remained unchanged from my four year old self; I was worried about hurting myself, and I was worried that others would think less of me because I was not a natural. This led to me never really participating in much competitive sport and to one of my greatest regrets: in Grade 9 I made the high school basketball team but chose not to play. At the time I thought very little of the decision. Only recently have I realized that if I had just relaxed and not worried so much about other’s opinions, I would not have missed out on an experience that could have been very formative and a real confidence builder.
Conversely I want to share an experience that had the opposite effect. In both Grade 11 and Grade 12 I ran the Mississauga Half Marathon with my dad and with a high school friend. I have to admit, my training regime was hardly rigorous. I still ran three or four times a week, but at distances nowhere close to 21 kilometres. I remember being sick with worry the evening before the first event. However, I got up the next day and did it. I was sore for days afterwards and did not put up the fastest time, but I proved to myself that I could do something that I didn’t know I could do the day before. Above this, I conquered worry. To this day those running events are something I put on my resume and remain a source of pride for myself. I often use this memory to remind myself that sometimes worry is a sign that you are about to achieve something of great importance.
I can hardly say that these events led to some sort of epiphany, however. I remained a worrier, and in some ways worsened, as I pushed through my final years of high school and through some of the earlier years of my Undergraduate degree. In fact, it is only very recently that I find I am able to control my worry somewhat and instead make it a useful tool in my life. After some personal growth, I have realized that much of my worrying stems from a specific incident just after I had turned 16. This incident remains one of the most defining experiences of my life and I think about it often.
On a cold, mid-autumn day my dad asked me if I wanted to accompany him for a long bike ride. I was hesitant, not looking forward to having to keep up with my spry 56 year old dad. He was a full marathon runner and a fitness addict. After some persistence I agreed to accompany him. I am from Caledon, an expansive region north west of Toronto consisting largely of farmland, hills and countryside estates. In other words, it is a biker’s dream. We were about ninety per cent done our bike ride, which I was grudgingly enjoying when we came up to a small hill and I passed my dad. Surprised, I looked back and saw that he had been forced to dismount and was sitting on the ground in discomfort. He complained of a tight chest and shortness of breath. Foolishly, I biked home and got my mom (it was less than a five minute bike ride). She came and we decided we should call the ambulance. A volunteer firefighter who lived just up the road arrived and did his best to perform some treatment before paramedics arrived. They evaluated and decided that it was our decision whether he should go to the hospital or not. It was this moment that I made a decision that was stimulated by worry, and one that I will never forget. Despite some protest, I said he should go to the hospital. He was evaluated and it turned out he had had suffered a heart attack and had several severe blockages in the arteries near his heart. What followed was a triple bypass surgery and a very successful recovery. The night that my dad had his heart attack he was supposed to board a plane to Brazil for business. We can only speculate what could have happened if he had had a heart attack in the air, or in the worst case scenario, while jogging in Rio de Janeiro. Just like my decision in Grade 9 to not play basketball, I did not think much of the decision at the time. It was only later when someone I respected very much made me realize that my worrying had possibly saved my dad’s life.
The time following my dad’s incident was a difficult one for me. I suffered from some pretty severe anxiety that has haunted me on and off since that day. I only now realize how that incident stimulated my anguish. I think that in basic terms, the incident with my father confirmed that sometimes the worst thing you can think of does happen. For years my worry existed, but finally it had been right. Never before had the worst thing I imagined actually occurred. Since then, I have often obsessed with the worst possible outcomes and explanations for everything. From exams to sickness to work, I have often assumed the worst outcome was forthcoming.
I remember a time not too long after my dad’s surgery, one of his first times out skiing since his recovery. I was concerned about something and he was reassuring me, until he finally looked at me and basically told me that I shouldn’t worry because life was great, and he was happy to be alive and out skiing. The point was that day nobody was having a heart attack, there was nothing of consequence to be concerned about. Unfortunately I have never had much of a filter of what has consequence and what doesn’t. Only very recently and for reasons I am not really sure of, I have come to understand when worry is useful and when it isn’t. If you find yourself worrying about something, ask yourself, is my concern helping this situation? If it isn’t, move forward and stop wasting the time of yourselves and others. If it is, deal with it. Life is often simpler than we think, as my dad pointed out to me on that wonderful winter day. It’s also awesome. Don’t let worry ruin it. I will leave you with that. HOLD FAST fellow engineers, and worry only when it matters.
Leave a Reply