I am afraid to see.

This happens now and again, and it started on Thursday. That night, I came home after a rough day, and my daughter said, "Just breathe, Mom. Do that thing you do. Just breathe and settle down and focus."

I stood in the kitchen with a beer in my hand and didn't dare.

"If I do that," I said, "It'll all be over."

Two days later, that's still how I feel. That terror is at the root of a lot of the problems I--you, we--have. The debt, for sure. The overwork. The disconnect I suffer with too many friends and close family.

If I actually look at everything I really should do, I will lose grip for a moment.

Where do we begin claiming a life, when mere seeing pains us?

I'm going to try by seeing just a very little bit. I'm going to try by making a list of what to do. When I reach the fourth item on the list, today--and only today--will be a success.

1. Make coffee
2. Write this post
3. See, as clearly as I can, all the things. List them. Claim them. But don't try to clean them.
4. Put them aside, and look for a long time at something beautiful.

(More coffee optional).