Becoming Friends With Fear

 As I write these words, I can feel fear.

Not panic.

Not terror.

Just the quiet presence of fear sitting beside me.

I learned to be afraid as a child.

Fear became familiar.

It became a constant companion, teaching me to be careful, to stay small, to watch for danger, and to protect myself in whatever ways I could.

As I grew older, I found ways to avoid it.

I distracted myself.

I denied it.

I covered it up.

I tried to outthink it.

I tried to outrun it.

But none of those things truly worked.

Fear has a way of waiting patiently until we are willing to acknowledge it.

I am beginning to understand that fear isn’t something I have to fight.

The more I resist it, the louder it seems to become.

Perhaps fear isn’t asking to be defeated.

Perhaps it is asking to be understood.

So today, instead of pushing it away, I imagine sitting down beside it.

I ask it a different question.

Fear, what are you trying to teach me?

What are you hoping I will learn?

Maybe fear has spent all these years trying to protect a little girl who once had every reason to be afraid.

Maybe it has simply stayed on duty long after its job was over.

If that is true, then perhaps fear is not my enemy.

Perhaps it is an exhausted guardian that no longer realizes the danger has passed.

I don’t have to hate it.

I don’t have to obey it.

I can thank it for trying to protect me.

Then, with kindness, I can let it know that it doesn’t have to carry that responsibility anymore.

I am here now.

God is here now.

And together, we will teach that frightened little girl what fear never could.

That she is safe.

That she is loved.

And that courage isn’t the absence of fear.

Sometimes courage is simply taking fear by the hand and walking forward anyway.