I’m afraid of the dark. Not the literal kind—though, okay, I do sleep with a nightlight—but the metaphorical darkness, the unknowns of life, the moments when you jump without knowing where, or if, you’ll land. For me, that fear shows up loudest in the realm of relationships. Vulnerability? Terrifying. Taking emotional risks? Petrifying. But here’s the kicker: I do it anyway. Over and over again. And I’m better for it.

Because the thing about fear is, it doesn’t just sit there, quietly humming in the background. Fear is bossy. It wants the wheel on this road trip called life, and if you let it, it’ll steer you straight into a cul-de-sac of regrets. So, as much as it has scared me, I’ve learned to lean into fear. Not foolhardily or with reckless abandon—I’m a Capricorn; I plan everything—but with just enough courage and grace to remind myself who’s in charge. Me.

Why Love Feels Like Skydiving Without a Parachute

Let me take you back to a moment. Howard University, my senior year. I had just survived my first real heartbreak—not the little middle school ones where you cry for a day because someone “stole your boyfriend” during gym class. No, this was the kind of heartbreak that makes you forget to eat for three days and question whether Love Jones lied to you. (It didn’t, by the way—we all just have to survive our own “Darius and Nina” moments).

When I met someone new—let’s call him Marcus—I felt the telltale stirrings of interest bubbling under my heartbreak hangover. But instead of leaning into the excitement, I froze. What if he hurts me, too? What if I let my guard down and end up on my dorm room floor again, listening to Sade's “By Your Side” like it’s a lifeline?

The thing about love—whether it’s new or a deep, long-term commitment—is that it demands something of us. To love is to risk. It’s jumping out of a cosmic airplane without knowing if the parachute will catch you or if you’ll wind up with metaphorical road rash. And yet, the only thing worse than jumping…is not jumping. Because the ground is exactly where you’ll stay.

Fear Wants You Stuck (But You? You’re a Mover)

That’s the insidious thing about fear. It convinces you that inaction equals safety. It whispers sweet lies: Don’t text him; he probably doesn’t feel the same way. Don’t bring up the issue in your relationship; it’ll just start a fight. Don’t tell her how you feel; she could laugh in your face. Fear cloaks itself in logic, but its ultimate goal is to keep you motionless.

But think about it. Has staying stuck ever actually worked? Has ignoring a crush until they just happen to psychically intuit your interest resulted in anything other than missed opportunities? And has quietly resenting your partner ever improved your relationship?

For me, the breakthrough came when I realized fear doesn’t keep you safe—it keeps you small.

When I started reframing my feelings as fuel, everything shifted. If butterflies showed up before a first date, I welcomed them as proof that I cared. When that jittery, avoidant discomfort emerged before a difficult conversation, I reminded myself that discomfort means I’m doing something meaningful. Instead of waiting to feel “ready” (hint: you rarely do), I leaned into messy, stumbly, probably-awkward action.

How to Flip Fear the Middle Finger (Lovingly)

So how do you do it? How do you move when fear screams, “Stay still!”? Here are a few lessons I’ve picked up along the way—the kind I wish I could text to 21-year-old me, teetering on the edge of letting Marcus take me out.

  1. Name It to Tame It
    Fear thrives in vagueness. The next time anxiety about love or relationships creeps in, grab a journal, your Notes app, or even a napkin and ask yourself: What am I actually afraid of? Not just the surface-level stuff like, “I’m scared of rejection,” but the deeper fear: I’m scared rejection will prove I’m unloveable. When you name your fear, it shrinks, and with clarity comes the power to challenge it.

  2. Rethink Worst-Case Scenarios
    One of my nervous habits is catastrophizing. If someone doesn’t text back fast enough, my brain doesn’t think, “Oh, they might be busy.” It goes, “They’ve lost interest, you probably said something dumb, this will end in silence and shame.” Drama queen, much? But instead of letting my inner dramatist take over, I ask myself: Okay, and then what?

They don’t text back? Sure, I’d be disappointed—but I’d survive. You’ve survived far worse than an unanswered text, babe.

  1. Get Comfortable Being Uncomfortable
    Spoiler alert: Cringiness is part of human connection. You’re going to ramble. Forget your point mid-sentence. Maybe even spill a drink on someone while laughing too hard at a joke. And guess what? That’s okay! The foundation of love—platonic, romantic, or otherwise—isn’t perfection. It’s authenticity. So, practice the small stuff, like saying hi first or holding eye contact half a second longer than usual. Baby steps lead to big leaps.

  2. Do It Scared
    My favorite tip, and probably the hardest to follow. You don’t have to “stop being afraid” before you act. In fact, most people doing big, bold things—asking for the number, popping the question, opening their hearts—are doing it scared. Courage isn’t an absence of fear; it’s moving with it.

Building the Muscle (Because Yes, It’s a Muscle)

Here’s the truth: bravery is like going to the gym. The first time you do it, you’re sore. Everything feels heavy, awkward, and like people are staring at you—but they’re not, because everybody else is too busy figuring out their own form. The more you practice facing your fears, the stronger the muscle becomes, and the lighter the weight feels.

These days, I still get scared. I still have moments when vulnerability feels like walking around Dallas in 110-degree heat wearing too many layers—warm, suffocating, sweaty. But I remind myself of one simple fact: fear means you’re alive. And I’d rather feel alive, whole and messy, than safe and stagnant any day.

Why Facing Fear Is the Best Flex

Leaning into fear hasn’t just made me stronger in love; it’s made me stronger everywhere. The amateur skydiver shaking in the plane, unsure if she’s ready to jump? She’s also the woman pitching bold ideas at work, asking for what she deserves, and thriving in friendships.

Here’s my final thought: what scares you the most is often what’s worth doing the most. Whether that’s putting yourself out there in love, having a hard conversation with your partner, or admitting—even to yourself—that you want something deeply, the magic happens beyond the fear.

Jump, friend. You may not know where you’ll land, but trust me when I say the view on the way down is breathtaking. And when your parachute (eventually) opens, you’ll thank yourself for taking that first, terrified step.