I’ve always been a worrier. School work, homework, work work, money, relationships, family, pets, world hunger, war, the environment, retirement, weight, career….

You name it, I’ve worried about it. I used to have these perfect worry moments that I called "Awful-isms" where I would imagine exactly what had happened to a person who was late and hadn’t called. I could see the car accident or the plane crash or whatever horrible incident I feared had befallen my companion.

Since starting my own business as a professional writer this summer, the worrying is worse. How will I pay the bills? My client hasn’t gotten back to me with feedback… does he hate what I wrote? Will I have to move to my parents’ basement? How can I afford Christmas gifts for my clients? Will people be able to find my blog now that I’ve moved to TypePad after Wordpress evicted me? When I first decided to quit then decided to follow this dream, the worry made it almost impossible to sleep.

The worrying encourages procrastination, kills productivity, promotes bellyaches and probably has something to do with the bad hair days. And it does absolutely no good. No good whatsoever. Nothing.

My new strategy is simple… I have enacted the "Worry Minute." When the stressful thoughts start creeping in, and I start biting the inside of my lower lip, I stop what I’m doing. And tell myself the following:

"Ok, Ziesenis. You want to worry. Fine. Worry your heart out. Think of all the horrible what-ifs and the biggest concerns. Go ahead and start. YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE."

And that’s what I give myself. One Minute. While I’m worrying, I have to count to 60. But any horrible little thought I want to have is permissible. (And they all come, believe me.) But at the end of the minute, I stop. I make a to do list, or I get back to writing, or I keep on plugging at what’s in front of me.

I’m not kidding myself that the worry will go away. But I’ve given those thoughts their time to play, and that’s all they get.