Fear Is a Four-Letter Word (and So Is Hope)
When I was six, my biggest fear was getting caught stealing an extra pack of Hi-Chew from my family’s café. I’d sneak one into my pocket and eat it behind the dumpster as if I were committing some grand heist. (Spoiler alert: my mom totally knew but let it slide because “kids need sugar like plants need sun.”) Now that I’m older, my fears are a little more nuanced: failure, vulnerability, rejection. Oh, and let’s not forget spiders. Always spiders.
And yet, despite these fears, I often find myself walking straight into their web (pun semi-intended). Why do I do this? Why willingly face the things that make my palms sweaty, my heart race, and my brain scream, Turn back NOW!? The short answer: because the alternative—getting stuck—is even worse. That’s where the magic is: in facing the things that terrify us and, somehow, choosing to do them anyway.
Let me take you through this dance with fear—what’s scared me the most and how I’ve (messily) pushed through.
Fear #1: Rejection (a.k.a. The Big One)
There’s a specific type of stomach-dropping dread that comes with the possibility of being rejected. Whether it’s sending that risky text—“Do you actually like me or nah?”—or pitching a bold idea at work, the thought of a flat-out “no” can feel like a gut punch. Growing up, I was a certified people-pleaser. I avoided rejection the same way you avoid third-date topics like exes or astrology compatibility—don’t bring it up, and it can’t hurt you.
But here’s the plot twist: rejecting rejection didn’t work. Life kept nudging me into situations where I had to risk hearing “no.” One moment that sticks out? Submitting my short story collection to a publisher. The thought of someone reading my innermost thoughts and saying, “Thanks, but nah,” made me want to crawl into a fort made entirely of cozy blankets and stay there forever.
Here’s what I learned when I hit send on that submission email: rejection stings, but regret stings worse. The publisher did say yes (yay!) in this instance, but I’ve heard “no” for other projects since. Oddly, that first yes showed me that even risking rejection can lead to moments of pride and growth. Every “What if I fail?” now comes with a whisper of “What if I don’t?”
My Tip: Reframe the Fear
Instead of obsessing over the dreaded “no,” focus on the possible “yes.” And ask yourself: if this fails, will I regret not trying? If the answer is yes—go for it.
Fear #2: Leaving My Comfort Zone
One summer, I found myself face-to-face with a surfboard taller than me in Tofino. Surfing seemed like a beautiful idea in theory: ocean waves, golden-hour vibes, maybe a wetsuit pic for Instagram. But in practice? I was terrified—of falling, of making a fool of myself, and, worst case Jaws-level scenario, of becoming shark bait. My surf instructor, a perpetually chill guy named Pete, seemed unfazed by my hesitation. “Trust the waves,” he told me, “You’re gonna fall anyway, so you might as well have fun with it.”
Pete didn’t know it then, but he dropped some serious life wisdom on me that day. I fell—a lot. But each tumble meant I was learning: how to stand, how to balance, how to stop overthinking. (Well, mostly. I’m a chronic overthinker, so that’s a work in progress.) By the end of that week, I wasn’t a pro surfer, but I was someone who could wobble her way to shore on a board, grinning ear-to-ear.
Leaving your comfort zone isn’t one giant leap; it’s a series of small wobbles. Trying something new will always feel scary, but staying stagnant feels scarier.
My Tip: Baby Steps Forward
You don’t have to dive headfirst into the unknown. Start small—whether that’s grabbing coffee solo at a new café or taking a class where you know absolutely no one. Build your tolerance for discomfort one baby step at a time.
Fear #3: Vulnerability in Relationships
Let’s get real: being vulnerable in a relationship can feel like being a turtle with its shell flipped open. Growing up with parents who valued quiet resilience, I rarely saw vulnerability modeled. My family’s love language involved more gestures (like delivering hot wonton soup during a particularly rainy Vancouver day) and fewer words. So when I entered my first serious relationship in my twenties, opening up emotionally felt like trying to dislodge a stubborn jar lid—awkward, frustrating, and occasionally messy.
I vividly remember one moment: sitting on the floor of my tiny Melbourne apartment, trying to confess to my partner how overwhelmed I felt about life, school, the future. My brain whispered, You’re being dramatic. My heart whispered, You’re being real. So I forced the words out, complete with blotchy cheeks and a tearful snot moment. No, it wasn’t pretty. But it was honest. And lo and behold, my partner didn’t run. In fact, the experience brought us closer—showing me that sometimes, the very thing you fear (exposure, imperfection) is what deepens love.
My Tip: Vulnerability Takes Practice
Start with small, safe moments of honesty—sharing something that feels risky but manageable. Think of vulnerability as a muscle: the more you flex it, the stronger it gets. And remember, the right person will hold space for you, blotchy cheeks and all.
Fear #4: The Unknown
This one is my greatest frenemy. On one hand, I thrive on routines—the predictability of my morning coffee, the comfort of familiar hangouts. On the other, life keeps reminding me that the best stuff happens in the unknown. Case in point: my decision to study in Melbourne. I had no clue what to expect in a new country surrounded by strangers, but something in me whispered, Go anyway.
So I went. That year, I learned to navigate a tram system (far cooler than Vancouver’s buses, sorry TransLink), developed a deep appreciation for Aussie slang (thongs = flip-flops, FYI), and challenged myself to make connections in a completely unfamiliar setting. It wasn’t always easy—I missed home more than I expected—but I came back someone braver, someone who knew she could find belonging even on unfamiliar soil.
The unknown is like the ocean—it can be terrifying, yes, but it’s also where you find the most beautiful treasures.
My Tip: Dive In With Courage… and Backup Plans
When facing an unknown, pack a metaphorical safety net. Say yes to the opportunity, but also bring tools that ground you (a journal, a go-to playlist, or even a trusted friend on speed dial). You can channel bravery without being reckless.
Why I Do It Anyway
Fear signals growth. It tells me I’m on the edge of something new, something meaningful. There’s a reason we love underdog sports movies and rom-coms that awkwardly stumble toward happy endings; they remind us that fear is part of the journey but not the destination. Facing fear isn’t about eliminating it—it’s about moving forward even when it’s there.
So, what scares me the most? Honestly, stagnation. Waking up one day and realizing I let fear keep me small. And that’s why I do it anyway.
You don’t need to conquer fear all at once. Start slow, take intentional steps, and maybe even make friends with the butterflies in your stomach. They’re just there to remind you that you’re alive, creating a life bigger than you ever thought possible.
