Facing the Fear That Drove Me
I do not remember when you first arrived in my life. Sometime between the death of my mother and the first time my father beat me, you took up residence in my rib cage. My protector, you swept in—deigning to save me from a punishing world where those who should have loved me stole my safety and dignity for the smallest of mistakes. I want to invite you to explore a new world with me.
I have so much compassion for you, Fear. We were six years old and trying to save my life, keep belts off my skin, keep my bones in all their rightful places. That was too big a task. After all, you were only a child. We have been carrying that weight all these years.
Since your arrival, you have been the hardest worker I have ever known, immersing yourself in the endless pursuit of being good—good enough. To achieve this, you developed rigorous standards by scrutinizing our environment—books, conversations, and examples—to determine who I needed to be. You made creative decisions to help me meet your standards. Rest was never an option—no days spent snuggling under the covers in bed.
I see how you believed in my ability to improve, grow, and, in doing so, become safe.
Thank you for your relentless dedication to keeping us safe. Your vigilance was born in a time when even the smallest mistakes had devastating consequences—when safety, food, and dignity were bartering chips.
When you came into my life, minor mistakes could jeopardize our safety—our bones, food, and identity—by those who should have loved us. You were only a child, so you believed them when they said that working harder would set us free and being better would keep us safe. You remain frozen in that place of trauma, still fighting battles that no longer exist. But while you have fought without rest, I have grown. It’s time for me to take the reins and chart a fresh path for both of us.
I know the truth now–nothing we did could have made us safer. When the world wants to hurt you, nothing you do can prevent that. Life doesn’t require avoiding or defeating every evil. The beauty, the fun, and the love exist despite the darkness and the pain.
My friend, you fear ceding your role, but I can keep us safe in more constructive ways these days. I’m not asking you to leave, Fear, but to transform. Your vigilance has served its purpose; now it can help us create something beautiful together.
The thread connecting me to my father, his monstrosity, and his humanity, is you, a product of his fallible human self. It’s time to release this thread, this legacy of fear passed down through generations.
It’s time to let you rest and take on a new role—one that turns us toward the sun, to the beauty and peace already around us. A role where you still search, scan, and look, but now use your creativity to help me thrive.
The new title: The Persistent Pursuit of Joy. I want you to seek the moments in life made of sweetness, brightness, and abundance—like the sun on my skin, my grandmother holding my hand as she tells me she loves me, or my husband kissing my forehead while I sleep. Use your creativity to find more joy, ease, and love. Place me in the sunshine so I can open my ribcage and fill my whole chest with the warm glow. Help me notice the beauty I’ve overlooked while trapped in the past.
Through your relentless protection, I survived, but through letting you evolve, I will thrive. Fear—or should I call you your new name, Pursuit—I am so excited to embark on this new journey with you.
Together, we will lie down the burdens of the past and step into a life filled with joy, peace, and possibility.

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