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--{ fears, on a busy day }------

I have been horribly, horribly busy as of late. A death penalty en banc. A big old workplace harassment case. I cannot say more.

Nor do I have time to really reflect much on them, on any of their implications outside the narrow problems that are set before me. I have time to analyze the legal issues, and that is about all.

They suck, let me tell you, these periods of no time. Because I would like to think about these things in prespect, rather than retrospect. Because I would like some time to think about other things, too.

I hate it when I have no time to think, really think, about anything at all. Because at those moments, it is hard for me to put up barriers against the various fears of mine, ones that occasionally beset me, ones that I have to think off.

So I'm going to write about them, briefly. Do not, under any circumstances, respond to this. This is my talisman against the fears, not a call for reassurance. Here are the things that I fear:

That I am doing the wrong thing.
Is what I am doing at work just? Is what I am doing good? Am I compromising too much? Am I compromising too little?
That, even if I am not doing the wrong thing, I am doing everything incorrectly.
What if I've developed a good approach in theory, but I can't play it out in practice?
That, at the heart of it all, I am just stupid.
Closely related to the above fear, and made worse by the fact that much of my self-esteem rests on intelligence. So what if I am just not smart enough to do anything I want to do? What if I'm not smart enough to be of much help to anyone? What if I'm not smart enough to get, I mean really get everything I read? What if I'm not smart enough to write everything I want to write?
That I am too slow.
Another recurring fear, made worse by the fact that I treat my failure to pull myself out of my busy state as more evidence that I am too slow. Yet here I am, wasting time writing this. But this is no waste. I need to rid myself of these fears.
That I have gone down the wrong path.
What if everything (me, you, the world) would have been better had I chosen otherwise?
That it doesn't matter.
An awful awful thought.
That it does matter, but there's nothing we can do about it.
Another awful awful thought.
That time is running out.

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