Fear has always walked quietly beside me—not always loud or overwhelming, but present, shaping how I moved through the world. For a long time, I didn’t even realize it was there.
I always thought of myself as a brave person. Throughout my life, I made plenty of choices that didn’t always make sense to my loved ones, and I always felt a deeper trust that things would turn out OK. And usually, they did. Whether it was intuition, being guided by something greater or pure luck, things always seemed to fall into place.
Making big decisions, like moving to a new country without a plan, didn’t seem risky to me. But when I decided to leave behind my stable job to pursue a career path that truly aligned with my values, the certainty I’d always felt began to crumble. And that’s when fear found me.
Fear can be mysterious and illogical
Fear, to me, looked like the familiar thoughts of self-doubt that many of us know well. But it wasn’t just mental—it was physical, too. A cold sensation running down my spine, tightness in my chest and tense muscles. At times, the fear literally took my breath away. It was hard to focus on anything else, especially on the one thing I most wanted to focus on: how to figure out my life so I no longer had to feel this way.
What was I so deeply afraid of? That’s a question you might ask. The answers were many: failing publicly, being judged for something so deeply authentic to me, running out of money, and the crushing disappointment that could come from pursuing something I longed for but failing at it. These fears were tangible, but there was also a part of my fear that felt deeper—something I couldn’t fully explain.
I realized that fear doesn’t always have a clear, logical explanation. We can often trace our fears back to specific events or beliefs instilled in us by those who raised us. But sometimes, fear simply remains a mystery. It’s a part of us that may be uncovered over time, but not always in the moment when we most want to understand it.
There are fears we carry in our bones, ones that emerge when we’re most vulnerable. And when they do, we may come to realize that we’ve been carrying them all along—we’ve just learned to make decisions that have helped us avoid them.
Our search for true safety
Though I didn’t always recognize my specific fears, I did recognize that I felt deeply unsafe when trying to grow my confidence while simultaneously trying to establish myself as an expert. The pressure to have everything figured out was overwhelming, and I constantly worried I never would.
Every step I took towards the life I longed for required courage, yet I didn’t always feel courageous. Instead, I often felt like a fraud—sharing my knowledge about fear and the nervous system while frequently being overwhelmed by it myself.
Though my loved ones tried their best to be supportive, I realized they didn’t fully understand my fear. After all, I wasn’t in any real danger, and I had consciously chosen this path—a fact that weighed heavily on me. It brought a layer of guilt: Was I allowed to feel afraid when I had willingly left my safety behind?
But fear doesn’t follow logic or reason. It’s simply a nervous system response to a perceived threat, and in certain moments, I felt deeply unsafe.
During this time, I had a recurring dream: I tried to hold onto a wall with both hands and feet, but I kept slipping away. This dream mirrored what I felt in waking life—I was desperately trying to grasp something that would give me safety, but nothing seemed to offer the reassurance I needed.
Many of us don’t know what to do with fear, so we search for something—anything—that will offer us the safety we long for. And while it’s very helpful to surround yourself with supportive people, and we all need encouragement from time to time, true safety won’t come from the validation or reassurance of others. External circumstances do matter, but true safety can still be found even when we’re still figuring things out.
True safety comes from within—it’s a deeper foundation you can always rely on. It’s the trust that while life is unpredictable, you have the resilience to navigate its waves. Safety isn’t about a life without fear; it’s about knowing you have the capacity to process it. This is a vital life skill that many of us never learned while growing up—mostly because our caregivers didn’t have it, either.
Softness as an antidote to fear
We’re often told that fear should be conquered, ignored or overridden in favour of just pushing through. But for me, what truly helped was embracing softness.
This was about giving myself gentle permission to feel afraid—even when my fear seemed exaggerated or when I’d chosen the circumstances I feared for myself. Giving ourselves permission means we acknowledge the fear with kindness and understanding, as though we’re comforting a friend in need. Through this process, I realized the part of me that was afraid wanted to be seen, held and acknowledged, rather than being dismissed or ignored as I pushed through.
I realized the part of me that was afraid wanted to be seen, held and acknowledged, rather than being dismissed or ignored as I pushed through.
I believe we’re meant to integrate our fears, to gently embrace the parts of ourselves that feel afraid, and to offer ourselves the safety we crave. Fear often tempts us to put up a shield to protect our hearts, but I’ve learned that we can also allow fear to soften us. After all, to be soft is to be vulnerable—and what’s more vulnerable than facing our deepest fears?
We soften when we allow ourselves to be fully present with our feelings without resistance or self-criticism. What this means for me is to be with the physical sensations, to gently tune into my body and allow myself to feel without getting caught up in the story of why I feel so afraid. When you give yourself permission to be afraid, you fully accept this tender part of yourself unconditionally, and this is a deeply healing experience.
Softening into fear also means giving ourselves what we deeply long for, which is safety. When we find that source of safety within ourselves, our self-trust grows over time.
Being at peace in the moment
We can create safety for ourselves not by doing everything all at once, but by taking smaller steps that stretch us just a little bit. A slower approach gives our nervous system time to adapt while we move into new territories.
By incorporating calming activities—like a walk in nature, a warm bath or gentle movement—we signal to our nervous system that it’s safe to settle. These personal rituals become anchors that help us stay grounded in moments of fear. Each time we return to calmness after stress, we reinforce our trust in our ability to handle whatever comes our way, which deepens our resilience.
We’re often afraid of fear itself, but when we learn to gently be with it, fear can become our guide. It can lead us towards a deeper trust in ourselves, our process and the natural rhythm of life. We can learn to enjoy that we’re currently here, rather than feeling like we should be there.
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image: Katrina_S