Kill Your Fear

I still remember the first time fear gripped me so tightly, I couldn’t move. I was ten years old, standing at the edge of a diving board at our neighborhood pool, knees shaking, heart pounding like a drum in my ears. The board bounced gently under my feet. Below, the water shimmered in the sun like an invitation—or a trap. My friends were cheering me on, but their voices felt miles away. I was frozen. Afraid of falling. Afraid of failing. Afraid of looking like a fool.

I stepped down and climbed back down the ladder.

It might’ve looked like a small moment to someone watching. Just a kid getting nervous. But for me, that moment planted something inside me. A tiny, invisible seed of fear that would quietly grow for years.

The Many Masks of Fear

Fear wears many disguises. Sometimes it looks like perfectionism. Other times, it wears the mask of procrastination, indecision, or even anger. But at its root, fear is a whisper in our ear telling us we’re not enough. That we might fall. That we’ll embarrass ourselves. That we’re too late, too old, too broken, too… whatever.

In my early twenties, I let fear run my life without even knowing it. I stayed in relationships that didn’t serve me because I was scared to be alone. I turned down opportunities because I was convinced I wasn’t ready. I wanted to write—stories, essays, anything—but I kept waiting for the “right” moment, the perfect idea, the guaranteed success.

That moment never came.

One night, sitting alone in my tiny apartment, I realized something: I was not living. I was hiding. Every decision I made was designed not for growth or happiness, but for safety. For comfort. For control. I was surviving, not thriving.

And survival is not the same as living.

The Turning Point

The change came not in one dramatic moment, but in a slow, steady awakening. I started doing something that felt completely against my nature: I leaned into discomfort. I joined a small public speaking group—even though just introducing myself made my hands sweat. I started saying "yes" to small things that scared me—attending events alone, taking weekend trips to unfamiliar places, speaking my truth even when my voice trembled.

One day, a mentor asked me a question that cracked something open inside me:

"What would you do if you weren’t afraid?"

That question haunted me. It followed me into the grocery store. Into my dreams. Into every quiet corner of my day.

The answer came one rainy morning: I would write. Not just in my journal. Not just for myself. I would write for others. I would share my voice, even if it shook.

So I did.

Small Steps, Big Courage

I started a blog with zero readers. I wrote about things I was going through—heartbreak, anxiety, self-doubt. At first, I felt exposed, like standing on that diving board all over again. But something unexpected happened: people related. They messaged me. They thanked me. And slowly, my fear began to shrink.

I realized that fear doesn’t die in one swift blow. You don’t “conquer” it like a battle. You kill it by starving it. By stepping forward even when it's screaming at you to retreat. You kill fear by acting anyway.

It doesn’t mean the fear disappears completely. It just means it no longer gets to drive the car.

The Fear That Returns

A year ago, I got an offer to speak at a women’s retreat. Just a 15-minute story. I should have felt proud. But fear, like an old ghost, returned.

“What if you mess up?”

“What if no one cares what you have to say?”

“What if you freeze on stage?”

The fear was familiar. But this time, I didn’t let it win. I remembered that ten-year-old on the diving board. I whispered to her: We’re not climbing back down this time.

I practiced every day. I got nervous. I cried a little. And then I stood on that stage, looked into a sea of kind, curious faces—and I told my story.

And I didn’t die.

In fact, something inside me came alive.

Kill Your Fear

This isn’t a story about bravery. It’s a story about choosing courage in the face of fear—not once, but over and over again. Fear is loud. But courage is persistent. It whispers back, Try anyway.

We’re all afraid. Of failing. Of rejection. Of the unknown. But fear shrinks our world. It steals the things we could be, the people we could love, the lives we could live.

So ask yourself:

What would you do if you weren’t afraid?

Then, take one step toward that thing. Just one. You don’t have to leap. You just have to move.

Because every time you act in the presence of fear, you kill it a little.

And every time you do, you come more alive.

Moral / Life Lesson:

Fear is a natural part of life, but it doesn’t have to control yours. The way to overcome it is not by waiting until you're fearless, but by acting with courage anyway. One step at a time. Because the life you want is on the other side of the fear you’re willing to kill.