My Dear Ole’ Gran used to say I was a worry wort. She had a million analogies about my worrying ways: fishing in air, spending a dollar on a ten cent problem, borrowing trouble….she knew that I lost a lot of sleep worrying and overthinking. Still do. She and my mom used to tell me I was a natural born worrier. As a young adult, the worry manifested itself as crippling anxiety. There were times when I wouldn’t leave my house, or even my bedroom, because I was so worried about some small thing. And then one day, I learned…