Things I am going to stop being afraid of:

Throwing stuff away. Or. Getting rid of it. 

Now, really. I know. This is tough. A veritable avalanche of protestations can immediately tumble over you the minute you look at something with that why-is-this-still-around light in you eyes. "What if I need it someday? What about it's sentimental value? It was a gift. My daughter might one day want it. Think of the waste." And on and on. These can be compelling and uncomfortable arguments. They can. Feeling the sheer weight of them sometimes leads to an automatic cry of 'Uncle'. As in Ok. Fine. I'll never consider not possessing all this stuff again. But it is just stuff. And. They make new stuff everyday. In America the potential for new stuff to come into your life is a near daily event. For me, stuff is stress. Bottom line. I don't need to go into the psychology of why this is the case. It just is. So it's either deal with the stress. Or deal with the guilt of consciously ignoring all those valid protestations. I like to tell myself that one day all the "Buts" and "What-ifs" won't pop into my head every time I part with some item. But I think they probably always will. Which, I guess means, that I choose guilt. And that's ok. I can handle guilt.

Dry-clean only sweaters. 

I mean. Does the sweater know? Is it somehow offended and will therefore seek disastrous revenge if I dare clean it at home? I'm not going to douse it in boiling water, rub it over a metal grate, let my family play tug of war with it. I'm just going to, you know, treat it very, very carefully. Like a newborn child. Can they really do more than that at the dry-cleaners?

Not having a logical reason for saying No. 

I think this one needs little follow-up. Because that's rather the point. It's just no.

Changing my hair style. 

Because. It's hair. It's dead. And it will grow back. And I have had plenty of bad hair days with it in various stages of both length, color and maintenance. It seems to make no difference. So. You know. What's the big deal?

Spending 4 weeks away on vacation. 

This is a difficult one for me. Home bound, routine-loving, introvert that I am. But for the past 3 winters my husband has been talking more and more about getting away for an extended period of time. And really, can this be more of a first-world fear? I'm afraid of a VA-CA-TION?!! I just really need to think less. Honestly if I said, out loud, all the reasons I have for hesitating on this one, you'd either fall over laughing or seriously suggest therapy. 

Bleach, detergents and mineral oil. 

I know. The internet is an exploding land mine of reasons these three things should. AT. ALL. COSTS. be avoided. And I'm not saying there aren't legitimate reasons why they shouldn't be your immediate go-to products. But let me tell you three stories: Those internet articles? Yeah. I read them all. I researched alternatives. I mixed up potions and lotions and all sorts of experimental concoctions in our kitchen. My husband just laughed. And called me a hippie. Which I actually find flattering. But. Back to my stories...

First, I have been washing our bed pillows twice a year in a mixture of borax, baking soda and hot water. Pretty effectively, too, I thought. Until a few weeks back when we were changing our sheets. And the sun was actually shining in our bedroom. And I got a real good natural-light glimpse. Oh wow. Yeah, those things went for an immediate bleach bath. And you know what? They now look amazing. 

Second, about 6 months ago I read an article about cleaning your makeup brushes with Vinegar. I did this. And 6 months later? Yep. They still smelled like Vinegar. Despite frequent washing with, no, not more Vinegar, but all sorts of gentle cleansers and even my everything-free shampoos. Having finally had enough I gave in and recently washed them in a name brand, tough on grease, dish soap. And, happy ending, they no longer make we want to gag. (P.S. These are not cheap brushes we are talking about.)

Third, my daughter is plagued, each winter, by dry skin on her hands. Truly. They turn a nuclear red, itch, burn and in general make my knees a little bit weak every time I look at them. We have tried everything. Shy of steroids. Which maybe we will have to resort to. You never know. Each year they get just that much more horrific. Despite, virtually everything you can think of having been, at one time been, slathered on. Almond oil, Coconut oil, Aloe, Vaseline, Vitamin E, Shea butter, name brand hand cream specified for use on extremely dry skin. Probably a good half a dozen others I'm not remembering. No luck. In some cases there was such a lack of luck that she was in tears from the further irritation of her skin. And regardless of all else, we never could get her skin to stop feeling like sand paper. This last week, when the raised and red skin had spread to her elbows. Yes. Elbows. I decided to dump the plant based, "more natural" approach and I whipped up a batch of good old mineral oil and bee's wax. So far, her hands are the best they've been in years.

I guess, in conclusion, while I will always be a hippie at heart, content to predominately use my alternative, homemade and "green" cleaning and personal care products I will be taking the above 3 things off my No-Fly list.

Lastly, but maybe most importantly, living in the moment. 

Because, really, that's all we've got. This moment. Right now. And it's silly to keep wasting it in anticipation or trepidation of moments not even here yet. Moments not even guaranteed.