Worry-- The 8th Deadly Sin?

While it might not be one of the fatal infractions, I think I'm on the verge of fretting myself into the grave.

I blame Mr. M.

OK, that's not really fair. It's not his fault, but it does have to do with him. I'm finding that making decisions now (as opposed to a year ago, before we got hitched) is much more stressful for me. I can't believe this didn't occur to me before we got married, but I worry a lot about how things will affect him: moving for seminary, moving to different parishes, maybe having kids later than planned, my mountain (scratch that, mountain range) of debt from undergrad.

I came to the conclusion a couple of days ago that the best way to handle it was to make sure that I do my best at everything; that way, his sacrifices won't be wasted.

I haven't stopped worrying.

I feel extremely responsible for our well-being (financially, socially, etc) because I'm making a lot of the major decisions. He's supportive, which is amazing, but I'm the one initiating changes.

What exacerbates everything is that I don't feel like I have close friendships with people of strong faith right now. I need to find people to buoy me up, and I've had such a hard time with that since I've moved here.

In completely unrelated news, check out this story from NPR on Iranian women's fancy underthings. I love it.