Reaching a new place in life where I honestly fear being afraid.

It’s not a pleasant place, full of catastrophic scenarios, disasters of epic proportions, chains of events that end in my doom… or worse, my kids’.

These days are fewer and farther between, but they still exist. It’s my insecurity speaking, while my rational brain reminds me that I can handle anything—except death. So, of course, my mind goes straight to death.

I am afraid of the the doors I will have to open, because I know I will die if I stay in the room. Change is part of life, usually forced upon you. But what about when it isn’t? When you’re the one who has to pull the trigger and detonate your own life… that’s tricky, right? Nobody prepares you for that. I’m pretty sure that by the age of 40, no one has ever really explained this.

I guess it’s a natural clusterfuck. Not a nice place to be—but hopefully, not a permanent one.