A Few Thoughts About Fear

If you’re among the 132 people who subscribed to my newsletter this month, welcome! I’m glad you found me. I hope you’ll find inspiration and support in my posts. 
 
Most months, I receive around five new subscribers, at most ten. I’m not sure what’s changed, but I’m grateful.

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—Especially since I’ve been worried lately about being reclusive in person and online. I’ve turned down social events. I’ve paused most social media content creation. I’ve quit doom-scrolling. This behavior has boosted my mood and attention span—and helps me focus on my new memoir. It’s been a blast. I don’t know when I’ve been happier. I feel like a queen in my quiet, creative castle. 
 
Yet, part of me—Fear—says you’re not doing enough.
 
I wrote about Fear in my last two books: Raw: My Journey from Anxiety to Joy and Where Do You Hang Your Hammock: Finding Peace of Mind While You Write, Publish, and Promote Your Book. 
 
But Fear is a subject worth revisiting. 
 
We don’t have to be hijacked by Fear. All humans have it. The question is: how do we relate to it? Do we recognize Fear in its myriad forms? It might feel like bricks on the chest. Or a bass drum beating heart. Or a vague feeling of violet dread. It might speak in voices that hiss I’m not good enough. It might sting ears with hot pink shame. The particulars vary from person to person.
 
But I guarantee this: Fear lies. These lies look real. When Fear appears factual, it feels like The Truth. 
 
The body tells us when Fear is present. It might be tiptoeing around the heart in tennis shoes or banging the pots and pans of psyches. Either way, Fear steals creativity and dreams when we’re not paying attention.
 
One solution is cultivating a friendly relationship with Fear—patiently yet persistently getting to know it. 
 
Fear means well. It’s trying to protect us. It wants to look good. It wants safety.
 
But when Fear prevents us from doing creative work or honoring intuition, it turns into a contortionist in a straitjacket.
 
Later, once we see fear for who they are and how it limits us, fear becomes a cartoon.
 
Welcome Fear. But don’t bow to it or plan its coronation.
 
Let Fear come. If we don’t cling to it, Fear will go. It likes being the center of attention.
 
Fear needs reassurance. Tell it I am safe, I am enough, and I am loved. 
 
When we do this, fear takes its proper place as a subject—not the ruler—of our creative kingdoms.
 
Blessings and gratitude,
Bella
 
P.S. This week, in two of my three Write Where You Are writing circles, we talked about voice, specifically perspective. Here’s a quick definition of point of view in literature.