I don’t like talking about fear.
Not because it’s uncomfortable to admit I’m afraid.
Because fear has a strange way of exposing things I’d rather keep to myself.
I wish I could tell you that after years of doing this work, fear doesn’t visit me very often.
It does.
Sometimes quietly.
Sometimes so loudly that I don’t even recognize it’s fear.
It disguises itself as overthinking.
As procrastination.
As certainty.
As the overwhelming need to get everything right before making a move.
Years ago, during a past life regression, I had an experience that has stayed with me ever since.
Whether you believe in past lives or not isn’t really the point.
What stayed with me wasn’t the story itself.
It was one sentence.
“Fear is a fog.”
I still remember those words as if they were spoken yesterday.
Fear is a fog.
It blurs everything.
It narrows our vision until we can no longer see beyond it.
I wish I could say that sentence changed my life.
It didn’t.
Or Perhaps It Did
Or perhaps it did…
Just not in the way people usually mean when they say things like that.
I still get scared.
I still find myself frozen sometimes.
I still catch myself imagining every possible disaster before anything has even happened.
And every now and then…
I remember.
Fear is a fog.
Then I forget again.
That’s probably the part nobody likes talking about.
We don’t remember our deepest insights when we need them most.
At least I don’t.
When fear arrives, it doesn’t politely announce itself.
It quietly becomes reality.
For a while, I don’t even realize I’m looking at the world through it.
That’s the part I find hardest.
Not being afraid.
Realizing that while I’m afraid, I honestly believe what fear is showing me.
That this catastrophe is inevitable.
That this relationship is over.
That this decision will ruin everything.
That there is no way through.
Fear can be incredibly convincing.
Noticing the Fog a Little Sooner
Sometimes I wonder what my life would look like if fear wasn’t sitting in the driver’s seat quite so often.
Then another part of me wonders whether that’s even possible.
Maybe fear has always been part of being human.
Maybe the question isn’t how to get rid of it.
Maybe the question is something much smaller.
How do I notice the fog a little sooner?
I don’t know.
I’m asking because I genuinely don’t know.
Some days I remember to question what fear is telling me.
Some days I don’t.
Some days I can sit with it.
Some days I just want it to leave.
I’m still learning.
Still forgetting.
Still remembering.
I’d love to hear how fear shows up in your life.
Not how you’ve conquered it.
Just how it shows up.
With curiosity and an open heart.
