The only thing we have to fear...

...is fear itself, according to FDR.

And for the time being, fear is kicking my butt. Fear is putting me to shame. Why, you ask?

Take a look at a list of what scares me the most:

* That I'll regret my decisions and/or non-decisions

* That I'll make the wrong choices and fail

* That I won't have enough of what I want (which is significantly different from having enough)

* That I'll look back on my life and realize that I should have known/done better

Today at work, I made two "house-calls". The first was at an affluent home in the nicest of neighborhoods. The interior looked like something from a design magazine spread. Even though the husband had to sit in his wheelchair in the confines of their screened-in porch (nothing that might bring dirt into the home was allowed indoors), they had each other, and I could really empathize with their situation. Despite the beauty of their surroundings, you could cut their bitterness with a knife. Not that I blame them, but it was obvious that their financial priveleges had little bearing on their happiness.

Afterwards, I rushed to my next visit, far into the "boonies" where I fitted a new wheelchair to an elderly man in his nearly empty living room. He lived alone, and I didn't even see a TV in his apartment. Still, he was high in spirits and even though he barely heard what I said, it didn't stop him from cracking jokes. A completely different atmosphere, to say the least.

I have no idea what the second gentelman's secret is. What struck me more than anything was the obvious fact that I should be on my knees every freakin' day thanking fate for my incredible fortune. Listening to the radio as I drive to and from appointments, I am constantly bombarded with news of the misery that exists in biblical proportions elsewhere in the world, hell, even around the corner. Catastrophes and disasters that never even touch me.

So why is fear holding me hostage? Will I ever feel freedom?

Will this bird ever fly out of her open cage?