It was late in the evening earlier this week and I could not sleep because my mind was buzzing with worries. My low fixed-rate mortgage deal comes to an end next summer and so, rather than sleeping, I was in bed trying to calculate how much my mortgage would increase if mortgage rates were five, six and 6.5 per cent. The projected repayments grew larger and so did my worries.
I realise I am far more fortunate than many — to own a house in London and to be in work — but that did little to quiet my worries. I tried to talk to my wife, but she was reading a novel and didn’t want to be disturbed. I got annoyed. “Why aren’t you as worried as me?” I asked. “Because there’s no point,” she replied. No point? That stung because if there is one thing I am good at it is worrying.
These days my worries are often about money and in that, at least, I am far from alone. A recent survey revealed that 59 per cent of adults thought the cost-of-living crisis was having an adverse effect on their mental health. Other studies have revealed that 49 per cent say they feel more worried than last year and almost a third say their financial status is causing them to lose sleep.
I wanted to share these figures with my wife but she was already asleep. I am married to someone who is genetically incapable of worrying. Bridget assumes that everything will turn out fine and if it doesn’t we can deal with it then. I can feel my eyelid twitch and be thrown into a vortex of anxiety, convinced it is a brain tumour, Parkinson’s or stroke. Bridget can feel her eyelid twitch and think her eyelid is twitching.
It is truly maddening to be with someone who can let the worries of the world wash over them without it terrifying them to their very core. I, on the other hand, like nothing better than to pointlessly fret about anything and everything without necessarily doing anything constructive to alleviate the worry.
It could be worrying about whether my daughter will be safe travelling on the bus to school alone, or worrying about what she might be looking at on her phone, or worrying that all my work will dry up, or worrying that… you get the picture.
These worries all seem completely rational, but what does puzzle me is what on earth I was worrying about when I was younger. The things that worry me now — money, children, health and ageing — weren’t a concern then but somehow I still found things about which to get anxious. I can’t remember a time when I was not worrying about something.
It seems remarkable, given the number of times I have been convinced I was about to die from an aneurysm, heart attack or various cancers, that I am still standing. I suspect that for all my worries about mortgage payments I might be better off focusing on what I can control rather than what I cannot.
That’s the advice my wife gives and I would love to say that I will take it on board, but I am worried I will not.
In other news...
The most powerful thing I heard this week was Jamie Oliver talking on Radio 4 about his campaign to ensure all children in households on Universal Credit be given free school meals — a cause highlighted by a special investigation in this newspaper.
He was on the Today programme but unlike the dead-eyed politicians who usually appear Oliver actually knew what he was talking about and was able to articulate it in language that was both empathetic and human. The presidency of Donald Trump was a dire reminder of not assuming that being famous on TV guarantees competence, or even sanity.
Oliver, left, was impassioned but calm, able to marshal hard facts but also arguing for more kindness — and he exuded experience and expertise. I suspect he has far better things to do than enter politics but hearing Oliver on the radio he displayed all the qualities that I desperately crave from our political leaders but which are so woefully lacking.
