I’m a worrier.
Mom — who is also a worrier — says it runs on her father’s side of the family. The Bells are worriers.
The past couple of years have given me plenty to worry about. I know I’m in good company. Social media helps bring us together in our collective concerns, but it also exacerbates them.
And now we’re seemingly on the verge of WWIII.

When I was in grade 7, my science teacher Mr. Walker did a full-on special Remembrance Day presentation on nuclear war. (I can hear my husband and stepson laughing right now because I pronounce it nu-cu-lar instead of nu-clear. But Merriam-Webster, assures me my way, while stigmatized, is very common and there’s a reason behind it).
ANYWAY, to that point in my life, I’d never really thought of nuclear bombs, the destruction they could cause or the likelihood of another world war. Mr. Walker made Doomsday sound inevitable and imminent. Like, a next-week kind of thing.
A key element of Mr. Walker’s horror show was a picture of concentric circles indicating likely survival if Toronto was the epicentre of a nuclear bomb blast.

Obviously, if you were in the city core at the time, you’d be annihilated instantly. We lived and I went to school in North York, about a half-hour drive away from Toronto proper. Here, the chance of survival was slim, and it would be a bleak and bloody one at best, he assured us.
As a 13-year-old, I was just growing into my worrier genes. So, when Mr. Walker pulled out the bomb talk, ANGST emerged in full force. Every plane I heard overhead was delivering a nuclear warhead. The Doomsday Clock was my enemy. I started to follow politics. I tried to figure out how Mom and I could quickly get downtown with our budgie to be decimated if a bomb was coming. Living was not an option we wanted to pursue. Thank God the internet didn’t exist at the time.

So, this educational gem of Mr. Walker’s arrived smack-dab in my first year of junior high, as I hit puberty, was becoming a true-blue Bell family worrier, had moved from my childhood home, and was, (as I recognize now) experiencing my first mental health issues.
Since Thursday, I’ve been worried — for the Ukrainians, for our family, for the horses, for the supply chain. I mean, I could fill the internet with what’s been going in my head. In my imagination, I’ve been a resistance fighter and an undercover journalist. I’ve also stood at our property’s little cove defending P.E.I. with a rifle to prevent bad men from coming ashore.
I find it really interesting I’m fierce and wild in all these scenarios. For those of you who watch the Walking Dead I’m a Carol type – don’t cross me. I’ll give you cookies!

In real life, though, tonight I just want to curl up with a plate of baked goods, my husband, our doggie, and watch British panel game shows on YouTube. No CNN, no social media.
But, speaking of social media, while Twitter was giving me an ulcer earlier, remember how I said it can be good for bringing together like minds? (I know, I know confirmation bias.) I did find my people on the socials — my fellow Gen-Xers. And it was soothing.
Any other 70s & 80s kids remember looking anxiously up at passing planes?
— Nic Mic (@acandana76) February 22, 2022
(I took this today; I saw the plane & remembered how this used to make me feel) #WWIII #cnduk pic.twitter.com/ntFdyW5jK5
All you Millenials who love the 80s…this edge of WWIII with Russia is what Gen X remember the 80s as. Not neon and jelly bracelets. This is part of what made #GenX apathetic.
— Karen L Dolley (@NinkasiDolley) February 24, 2022
Us 70s & 80s kids for whom visions of WWIII calamities were regular nightmare fuel are not ok lately. I mean we are, being OK is what we do, but…on the surface. https://t.co/XyMZF9ugAD
— STEVE HUFF (@SteveHuff) February 23, 2022
I was there. #GenX #WWIII #poptart pic.twitter.com/c5WyDWT96a
— Brian Mulligan (@BKMeditor) February 26, 2022
See, very helpful.
They must have been force-fed the same scary nuclear war B.S. I was as a kid. Most of us got past the concentric-circles of death and started doing all the things teenagers are supposed to do. Then the Cold War ended around 1990 and we were good to go as adults.
Until now. When it seems we’re maybe closer to nuclear war than we were in the early ‘80s.
But I sure hope there isn’t a class of 13-year-olds reeling this weekend from a fear-mongering ass-hat’s Doomsday talk.
Isn’t it enough that there are millions of children living in real fear in the world?
6 thoughts on “Worry and War”
Oh #metoo. I find meditation helpful and using my mindfulness skill to remind myself that here in the present we are safe. Our Island is ok in this hour. We have entered a phase of the pandemic where the majority are vaccinated and we know much more about treating and curing Covid than we did two years ago.
The global situation is terrifying but right now we we can contact our government to voice our support for Ukraine. We can donate to support humanitarian NGOs who are getting medical and basic supplies to those in need.
We can gather at Province House at 10 a.m. tomorrow to let our Ukrainian community know we care. 😌🇺🇦❤️
Thanks for the comment Susana! I find the horses are extremely therapeutic. And actually my husband too – he doesn’t live anywhere but the present and that’s really helpful.
Yes. All of this.
Feels like we’re back to square one doesn’t it Lisa?
Always thoughtful .. I feel for your 13-year old self … brilliant writing!
Thank you for reading and supporting Margaret! I kind of felt for the poor little Nikki too.