It’s only a matter of time before most of my personal struggles become blog posts.

My readers may not appreciate the posts in which I confess my faults and pour out my woes, but I write them anyway. Writing about my struggles helps me to organize my thoughts.

Besides, personal posts are cathartic to write, and I hope some reader somewhere finds them encouraging—or at the very least, amusing. You may not learn from my mistakes, but you’re welcome to laugh at them.

I often overthink and overanalyze things, cluttering my mind with useless thoughts and pointless worries. My obsessive-compulsive tendency to think too much has wasted a ridiculous amount of time—not as much as, say, YouTube, but a considerable amount nonetheless.

My circumstances are sometimes beyond my control. My feelings are often beyond my control. As a neat, tidy, logical, organized, borderline obsessive-compulsive person, I hate not having control over any part of my life. I think my chronic compulsion to overthink things is an involuntary attempt to extend the illusion of control over my entire life.

I don’t have complete control over my life, but I know someone who does.

In the end, life is too full of mysteries and subtleties and complexities for me to comprehend it fully. Sometimes, I must stop trying to understand life and simply live, trusting God and blundering hopefully onward.

Worry is a paradox, really. It’s the one problem that goes away when it’s ignored. Thinking about worry only makes it worse. The only way to win the battle is to stop fighting.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some living to do.