I am feeling fear. It is pulsating cold air covering my heart like a harness. It feels light and heavy at the same time.
I used to believe that fear was something to overcome, to conquer, to defeat. It scared me. I spend a lot of time trying to ignore my fear or fight it. I tried to beat it to pulp, or conquer it. I did not see any reason for listening to it. I was afraid that if I did listen to my fear, it would take over my life. I didn’t realise that it is not possible to conquer fear. The ancient truth that what we resist will persist applies to emotions too. A war on fear will only create more fear.
By ignoring my fear I pushed it under the surface where it actually started to run my life. Secretly, under the façade of confidence I was afraid of most things. I made decisions based on fear, in the attempt of avoiding something.
The suppressed fear made me feel insecure; I didn’t dare to stand up for myself out of fear of possible repercussions. I tried desperately to keep everyone happy. I held on to a job I disliked. I did my utmost to please people I desperately wanted to like me, because I was afraid of what they would say or do if they didn’t. Hell, I tried to please people I didn’t even like, and whose opinions I didn’t care about.
I am not saying that I now always feel my fear and listen to its message. Sometimes I still slip into my old habit and avoid feeling it, but eventually I will always remember.
I remember that fear is there to keep me safe. Fear is Love. My fear is part of me, and it wants to keep me safe. Remembering this allows me to do the following:
I imagine that I see this fearful part of me in front of me. I tell her that I love her, and appreciate her help. I have a conversation with her, and ask her what there is to be fearful about. I can then take her view into account and adjust my actions accordingly, or explain why she is misinformed. Sometimes it is my job to convince her that I can deal with the fearful situation, that she can trust me to take care of it. She has done her job brilliantly by telling me what could go wrong, and what the worst-case scenario looks like. I can tell her lovingly to let me take the risks I wish to take. She can move on to her next task of looking out for me.
My fear works for me; she is one of my key staff or possibly even my caring, overprotective mother.
All my emotions work for me. I have a highly capable, loving staff working for me; all I have to do is remember this.
I challenge you to stop your War on Fear.
Try out my process, tweak it, make it your own and let me know what you think.