If you need me, I'll be in my room hiding under the comforter OR Ignoring Fear; Doing Stuff Anyway

The following things can be done, even if you are petrified:

Blogs can be updated albeit vaguely and in complete denial of promises made in prior posts.
Goals can be rewrote before the original ink is dry.  Goals written on post-it notes and the prompty lost do not count and cannot be used as mysterious excuses for lack of motivation; therefore, goals can be changed without an admission of complete failure.
Children can be raised semi-successfully, as love trumps fear even if it doesn't erradicate the side effects.
Emails can be sent, phone calls can be made, mail can be opened.  The more your hand shakes, the better as it gets those puppies open fast.
Time can fly by.  Sobriety and/or promises made can be maintained and/or kept even when security is scarce.
Budgets can be adhered to.  Really.  Even by me!
People can be met.  They may even stay to talk to you.  Greater still, they may acknowledge that they know you at a later date.
Sales goals can be met.  Write deadlines can be set... sometimes can be met.

Dreams, the silly stuff you forgot about years ago, the things you want for your kids but don't need for yourself, can start to come true faster than for which you were prepared;  future happiness can loom.

The potential that it actually may all turn out all right can prove to be more than a cute ending to a modern fable.

You might have to check to see if the coffee pot is turned off.  You may obsessively check to make sure the door is locked.  You may gasp and see spots when you hear about the horrors people inflict upon each other, thinking of your own children and wanting to hide them away under a huge security blanket in a vault of safety.  You may even wonder, and twitch a bit over the differences between your fears and the fears of others.  But you can still get the laundry done.  You can still fall asleep.

Far too many people have written about fear.  There is nothing original I can say about fear, other than to acknowledge that it's here, all the time.  I eyeball the rug, waiting for it to be pulled out from under my feet and wait for the day when I no longer worry and fret, not wanting to waste a single moment of this borrowed time, these beautiful amazing children's childhoods, this life I wasn't scared of until I figured out how to actually live.