Breaking Up With Fear-Based Thinking

An exercise in accountability and shifting mindset

Fear has lived rent-free in my head for years.

It’s my obnoxious freeloading roommate, leaving crusty dishes in the sink, playing loud music when I try to sleep and inviting unwelcome energy into my space of peace.

I’ve spent most of my life learning to co-exist. I clean up its mess, negotiate with it, and then sage the living room when it turns its back. But its presence is always there, subtle and internal. A fear of being seen too much or not enough. A fear of getting it wrong, or worse, getting it right and then not knowing what to do with that.

At times, it’s felt like I’ve built entire mental cities around my fears. Decorated them. Lived in them. It’s wild how much space fear can take up, how much you have to shrink yourself to live within its confines. It shackles doubt to all of your ideas so that you can’t even imagine acting without first weighing all of the possible outcomes.

I do things I’m afraid of all of the time, don’t get me wrong. I’ve moved past the point in my life where I allow fear to dictate my decision to do something or not. But we have such a toxic relationship that I can’t help but see things through its lens. Should I do this? What if it doesn’t work? What if I embarrass myself? What if I never figure it out? It’s like I have to compulsively run through the gamut of possibilities before I can act. And even then, fear consumes so much of the experience.

I’ve come to recognize that fear can’t be kicked out. I can’t just pack all of its things into trash bags and leave them on the front stoop. Whether I like it or not, fear has a place and a purpose. It keeps me grounded and aware. It can live with me, without decorating the whole damn house.

I suppose that where I’m at now is creating boundaries, and shifting the power back into my own hands. I can acknowledge that I’m afraid without surrendering to those anxieties. Instead of questioning whether I’ll fail or be embarrassed or liked, I’ll approach my fears with grace and maybe even a little bit of unjustified certainty.

Fear might be part of the journey, but it doesn’t get to lead. I’m choosing presence over protection. Hope over hesitation. Movement over meticulous self-editing. And if that means being a little delusional? Good. I’d rather be brave and slightly unhinged than perfectly afraid.