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When the Panic Sets In

I have mentioned a time or two that I'm working on a sizable project that will launch very soon. Truth is, I am starting to get extremely scared -- scared being a gross understatement. Petrified? Panic stricken? There are multiple moving parts and all sorts of variables that will likely just remain unknown until I'm in the thick of it. As a result, the project has reached the stage where I'm lying awake in the middle of the night (i.e. at 12:52 a.m. currently) with a racing heart and a head full of doubts that nag in an endless loop:
Maybe I should just not do this -- It's not too late to back out -- It's happening too fast -- I'm not ready yet -- Why did I want to do this in the first place? -- This is a recipe for failure -- I'm in way over my head.
And so on and so forth, ad nauseam. 
I've been through these cycles enough to know that this is just part of the deal. Fear is simply coming along for this ride every damn time. But man, is it discomfiting and difficult company. Fear isn't just white-knuckling the oh-shit handle as though my driving sucks. Fear is yanking the wheel, desperate to take us off course, no matter the fallout. Fear is reckless and irrational to the point of being suicidal. Fending him off takes attention and strength, all while trying to keep my eye on the road ahead, which BY THE WAY was minimum maintenance to begin with, thank you very much.
It is at times like this I remind myself, in the infamous words of my grandfather: "God hates a coward!"

Usually, it steels the nerves just enough to wrestle the wheel back. And the only way through, in the end, is through. Not over or under or around or via teleportation. You just have to push through the muck, spinning wheels, getting stuck.

Muck. Stuck. Wish me luck?