What scares me the most? Honestly, confrontation. Let me tell you, I’d rather be locked in a room with one of those giant Myrtle Beach souvenir shark sculptures than tackle a real, honest-to-goodness difficult conversation. You know the kind—those moments when you have to say what you need, express a fear, or admit to yourself (and someone else) that something just isn’t working. It’s that heart-thudding, stomach-clenching realization that you’re about to peel back your shiny, presentable exterior and show the messy, real you. Terrifying.

But here’s the thing—I do it anyway.

Isn’t that just life, though? There’s no thriving without being willing to squirm. So, I’ve made it my mission to face those fears of connection, communication, and vulnerability head-on—or at least with as much grace as a girl raised in a beachfront café can muster. Let’s unpack this together. (And grab a coffee or a cocktail, because whew, it’s a ride.)

The Fear of Being Known

Have you ever held back on a first date—not because you didn’t want to share, but because you did? There’s something about truly being known that makes my palms sweat. Being vulnerable feels like standing in the middle of the boardwalk in high summer with the wind whipping off the ocean and your dress flying up over your head. It’s real, it’s raw, and it’s absolutely mortifying… at least at first.

But why is it so terrifying? Easy: it’s the fear of rejection. If you don’t show people the real you, they can’t decide you’re “too much” or “not enough.” The problem? You also can’t give someone the chance to love you for exactly who you are—a little chaotic, a little sand-covered, a lot you. It’s a lose-lose until you take the risk.

What helps me push through:
1. Start small. Vulnerability doesn’t have to mean spilling your entire life story over shrimp tacos. It can mean sharing a little personal moment or a small opinion you’d usually hold back. Example: “Actually, I hate pineapple on pizza.” (Go ahead. Argue with me.)
2. Reframe the rejection monster. Most of the time, it’s not about you. Seriously. When someone “doesn’t vibe,” it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for being yourself—it means they weren’t your people. And thank goodness, because do you really want to spend Friday nights explaining “The Notebook” to someone who swears they’re just not into romantic movies?

The Dreaded Hard Conversations

Ah, the classic relationship check-in: “What are we doing?” Few phrases inspire more immediate dread than this one. I’ve had to initiate those conversations and be on the receiving end. Both situations made me want to fake a sudden interest in spelunking so I could disappear into a literal cave of avoidance.

But being honest about your feelings—whether they’re romantic, hesitant, or even just confused—is the cornerstone of every healthy connection, from flirtation to your 50th anniversary. Clarity requires courage, even when courage feels about as accessible as a decent parking spot on the Fourth of July.

My survival strategies:
1. Plan and breathe. Before confronting someone with a tough topic, I take a walk along the shoreline or sit where I can hear the ocean. Simple, steadying rituals like this help melt some of my anxiety. Sure, your words will come out awkwardly at first (mine usually do), but sometimes awkward honesty is better than polished avoidance.
2. Practice makes possible. Okay, I can’t say it makes perfect, but the more I’ve leaned into having these heart-to-hearts, the less scary they’ve become. Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, each tiny piece of honesty clicks into place to create a big-picture bond.

The Anxiety of Goodbyes

Breakups, endings, and even just drifting away—these things bring up all my fight-or-flight instincts. When you grow up in a tourist town like I did, you get used to seeing people come and go: vacation families waving goodbye at sunset, summer friends headed back to their landlocked corners of the country, even locals moving away in search of something bigger.

As a kid, I told myself I’d just avoid the pain of goodbyes altogether. No deep attachments meant no room for disappointment. Then I learned—through more than one teary night spent journaling by the tide—that refusing to say goodbye doesn’t stop people from leaving. All it does is prevent you from cherishing what you had in its moment.

How I’ve started embracing what used to scare me:
- Treat every connection as valuable, even if it’s not forever. A summer fling, a rebound romance, or even a really good first date that doesn’t go anywhere—they all matter. Not everything has to be your grand love story for it to have made an impact.
- Let goodbye rituals help you heal. Since my family ran a café, parting hugs and heartfelt to-go coffees became second nature. No matter how big or small the connection, take time to articulate why it mattered. Maybe you even have a goodbye dinner and toast to something new—it’s surprisingly cathartic.

Why I Do It Anyway

Here’s the truth: Connection is messy. People are messy. (Have you seen how much sand my beach friends can track into the house in one afternoon?) But those moments of risk—sharing your vulnerabilities, having difficult conversations, and embracing the sting of endings—are also the moments where life feels the most alive.

In my own relationships, I’ve screwed up my courage more times than I can count. Some of those talks ended in tears, others in some form of awkward laughter, and—my favorite—a lot of them strengthened my bonds. And here’s where it gets crazy: With practice, the scary things start to feel empowering. It’s as though stepping out into the storm teaches you how to dance in the rain.

So here’s my challenge to you: Whatever’s scaring you right now, lean in. You never know what might come of facing that fear head-on. Maybe the dress flies up, sure—but what if it doesn’t? What if the wind instead sweeps through your hair, lifting the heaviness off your chest, and you find yourself moving forward lighter than before? Sometimes, the worst-case scenario isn’t half as bad as standing still.

Go ahead. Take the leap—even if you’re carrying a little suitcase of fear with you. You just might discover the ocean below is warmer than you thought, ready to catch you.