Worry does not give us control. It does not prevent loss, guarantee outcomes, or protect us from being hurt. At best, it is rehearsal; at worst, it is self-inflicted punishment for a future that may never arrive. Most of what we fear never happens—and when something finally does, we meet it with the same tools we always had. All that worry in between does not prepare us. It only wears us down.

Today is my birthday. It marks 33 years I've been present and alive on this rock hurdling through space. I also think it marks a good day for me to finally make a blog post on here, which I've been delaying for I think close to two years now. But the delay has a reason. It's not necessarily a good one, but I do have one. Perfectionism.