The fear of failure is the most deeply triggering emotion I have experienced as an adult. As a mother, that fear mutates to the idea that every decision I make can create a wound for my daughters that will change how they perceive and approach the rest of their lives. The possibility that I can turn them into balls of rage that finish each day by assuming fetal position in a dark corner of their room while shutting the world out.
There is no situation in which this fear is more prevalent than those dreaded few days right before we depart on a new adventure. Right before we pack, right before we meet our friends for the last loving yet quivering exchange, right before the excitement when we realize that this is actually happening.