This is a letter to my fears, the ones who’ve taken away so many years.

I’ve lived with self doubt, so now I have so many “what ifs?”
I’ve missed opportunities thinking “I’m not made for this.”

The fear of rejection, so I didn’t try the things that I would’ve excelled in.
The fear of trusting others, so I held all of my traumas within.

The fear of getting hurt again, so instead I caused others pain.
The fear of sober thoughts, so I was a slave to Mary Jane.

The fear of gaining weight, so I would purge every meal.
The fear of being myself so who I showed wasn’t real.

The fear of not being pretty enough, so I was always insecure.
The fear of being alone, so I chased those who didn’t want me anymore.

The fear of disappointing others, so I became an overachiever.
The fear of God not loving me, so for a while, I wasn’t a believer.

The fear of not being good enough, so instead I’d hold myself back.
But God took away all those fears, so now there’s nothing I lack.

My fear of taking chances meant I’ve lived with a lot of regrets.
Now, I confront my fears and always strive to do my best.

style score: 100%

I feel you. I carry you in the pit of my stomach, in the depths of my mind, in the restless nights and the silent moments when it’s just me and the weight of everything I’ve been and everything I fear I’ll never be. You are the shadow that clings to me, whispering truths I am too afraid to face and lies I am too willing to believe. You terrify me because you are not just about not knowing—you are about what I already see in myself.

You are the fear that I will wake up one day and realize life passed me by while I was too busy blaming everything and everyone else. That I will see my potential in ruins, my fingerprints on every broken piece, and realize the same hands that could have built something beautiful were the ones that tore it down. You remind me that the people who hurt me have moved on, built lives, succeeded—while I stayed behind, willingly bound by the chains of their actions and my own self-sabotage. You force me to confront the possibility that I have been my greatest enemy, betraying the little girl I once was when she needed me the most.

You make me wonder if I am worthy-if my children will look up to me, will I ever be someone my sisters can be proud of? Someone I can be proud of? You haunt me with the thought of my children looking at me, disappointed, and saying the words I already tell myself in the quiet moments: that I failed. I let life slip through my fingers-allowing my pain to define me instead of fighting for the life I deserve.

Fear, here’s what I need you to know: I hear you, but I will not let you win.

Yes, I have made mistakes and blamed others when I should have taken responsibility. Yes, I have hurt myself in ways no one else could—by not standing up for the little girl who needed someone to protect her, to love her, to believe in her-But I am still here. Still capable of change, and the ability to rewrite the story I have been telling myself. And that little girl? She is still inside me. She is waiting, not with anger or judgment, but with hope—hope that I will finally show up for her the way no one else ever did. To fight for her, love her, and honor her pain by refusing to let it be what defines her.

You are my fear of wasted potential, but you are also a reminder that I still have it. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t exist. You wouldn’t hold so much power over me. The fear of failing is proof that I still care. It means I still have something worth fighting for.

So, Fear, I see you. I feel you. I acknowledge you. But I will not let you dictate my life. I will stumble, and I will fall. I will make mistakes, but I will get up. I will try—and I will keep trying until I become the person my children, my sisters, and that little girl inside me can be proud of. Not because I am perfect, but because I never gave up on myself.

Thank you for reminding me of what’s at stake. Now watch me prove you wrong.

Sincerely,

Me

(100% style score)

 Dear Fear of Mines, 

                       For so long I have let you hunt me in ways unimaginable; I can vaguely remember the first time I met you. Throughout the years, I have noticed how strong you have become and set up shop in my subconscious. Who would’ve thought the fear of failing or letting down your family could be motivation? Remembering growing up having no cares in the world, then coming of age seeing failures around me. Image being the first to accomplish basic things in the family, but still being lost in the curse. Being consumed with complacency and bottom tier means of life. I remember like yesterday being told by family and friends that i was different and chosen. Even after they said that, I still didn’t fully grasp the statement. Even at that point in time was the fear, not at its peak for me. You instantly stayed closed and waited for opportunities to capitalize. Seeing my mom struggle and understanding the struggle was a big turning point for my fear for years. I know you became your strongest when my kids were born and the direction of life changed massively. Through all the turmoil and downfalls, that fear played a big part in how I view choices and situations. It was a fear unlike me not wanting to swim in large bodies of water or being in high places scared of heights. I was able to overcome those two fears, but you are another monster that plays a different role in my life. The reason I won’t allow you to be my fail point because it would provide a negative and unwanted display of failure to my kids and loved ones. You have directed me to take a journey least traveled standing on my Faith in God. 

                                                                                                                      
    Sincerely, 

                                                                                                                      Maurice Cox 

Style score 100%

Dear Fear,

I want to say I don’t know who you are, but we both know that to be false. You scare the living daylights out of me. Make me forget that I’m in charge. But I believe I cannot control you, so I’m at your mercy. Anger comes to my aid, trying to thwart or deter you. It works for a moment or two before you grab hold of me once again.

If I had it my way, I wouldn’t keep you around. You hold me back from new experiences too often. But how can I be so callous? You are also my protector when danger approaches. You give me energy and you point me toward my desires. These mixed feelings bring much confusion. Maybe that’s all part of the plan! How can I remove you when I also need you?

No matter how strong my desires are, we cannot get rid of each other. So let us coexist. This fear of failure or imperfection has driven us to succeed in ways we never imagined. But it has also crippled our creativity for half our life. Indecision became a byproduct of you, among other things, such as procrastination and self-criticism. How are these to help us? If we are to thrive together, then I must learn to accept you for who you are. The same applies to me. I desperately need to accept myself. Only then can we work together. Without acceptance, I am left with resistance.

Looks like we’re going to spend more time with each other now. I’ve taken you for granted, as well as myself. Appreciation is the remedy for that. But I doubt my ability to do this. Maybe that’s your voice, reminding me of the importance of this mission. Resistance is futile, right? We will figure this out together. I can still feel a fear of failing. But I suppose that tells me I’m still ALIVE.

Much love,
Kelly Anne

Style Score – 100%

Dear Death,

On November 18th, 2023, I came home late from work and proceeded up the steps to the front door with exhaustion, looking through the window expecting to see nana on her recliner. I routinely expected her warm smile, but the eerie stillness of the air met me instead. I dropped my bag and keys clinking on the counter, I called out, “Nana?” -voice trembling with foreboding. Scanning every room looking for family, but came to nothing; routine quickly abandoned. I finally came upon the bathroom door me and my grandmother shared. I creaked the door open to a scene time won’t erase: a butcher knife lay abandoned on the sink, blood scattered across the mirror. Turning around, my heart sunk as my eyes adjusted to the scene. Nan laid still in the bathtub, water tinged with red, her gentle face pale. Overwhelming horror seized my heart, a memory frozen in sorrow, innocent eyes witnessing unbearable pain. I found life shattered like the silence. I screamed as if releasing despair’s symphony. A low tremble rose to a piercing wail. Time warped — seconds stretched into eternal nightmares. On November 18th, 2023, you took one of the most important people in my life, my grandmother.

Death, you travel with so much mythology, inspire fear, cause pain, but don’t even have the authority to make a simple trade. I know all of your sentiments and the poets spend their time trying to understand you, but I know exactly who you are: you are the very opposite of my existence. I hate you for accepting invitations and whispering lies into our ears and savagely interrupting the innocent and young by your cold and icy grasps. You rob the world of promise, laughter, and untold stories, leaving only echoes of what could never be. You are the very definition of what rots in the ground, yet you haunt my mind every day. You would keep me up at night, scared to close my eyes and see the mess that you left that night, with no slight understanding of how much she meant to my soul. Do you collect my tears as a trophy from what you’ve gained as a result of what I’ve lost? How greedy of you to keep people in separate places – worlds apart. It’s not in human nature to bid farewell. And that’s why I feared you because you will continue to take because that’s all you do is take, and take, and take. You take, and we eat up all the pain and we swallow it and I have the nightmares and cold sweats about her bleeding out, and it’s how you take- no closure, no goodbyes, no warnings. This is what you are, a monster that lives in the dark and patiently waits to disrupt our world.

I’ve learned many secrets through my grief. Through faith, my Father will heal my heart from the damage you caused. You stole countless memories yet to be: you ended earthly life but began God’s eternal embrace. I will join my grandmother whole, no grief- only reunion. Your temporary win, His eternal victory. Once permanent, now defeated. Jesus’s blood stained your dark door- unlocking heaven’s gate. You stole temporarily: He restores eternally. Your sting neutralized. His love remains forever venomous to your claim. God is death’s conqueror. You are merely a shadow preceding Gold’s glorious rebirth: your darkness only highlights His eternal light. And one day I know I will be with her again because nothing can separate a Christian from God’s love. But if I am reminded of how much pain that courses through my body when I think of what you did, I am reminded of how much love I had in my heart for her. I’d rather remember love and endure the pain than not know love at all; it’s a pain I’ll embrace forever. And one day there will be no more you and no more pain. But for now, we come to a standstill and I say to you: I accept you, and when it is my day to come, I know I will truly accept you because my Father will be on the other side. This is the faith I carry. You cannot scare me forever. And I will not let fear lead my life. I will live for her.

Till we meet one day, Allison Collins.

Style Score: 100%

Dear Fear,

Throughout my life, you have always been there. You were there when I was born, watched even when I was being strangled by the umbilical cord around my neck, yet I survived. You have been there when loud noises would startle me. My growing fear was that my parents would leave or become deported. I felt I would fall off from the bike as I rode it down the sidewalk, but I managed. I would fear I would have no friends at school because I was brown, and I was different, yet I had friends throughout my school years. I had feared that I would fail school because I would feel dumb all the time. Although I still dread the day that the world seeks to attack me. People can use any minor mistake or word against me. I feel dumb and stupid like I’m not worth being heard. I just don’t think I fit into this world. I dread the day my poor choices earn me condemnation, making me feel incapable of ever doing right. In a Mexican household, insecurities are often the subject of jokes, which make me feel even more foolish and mocked. There is a moment where I question, Will you be quick to judge me or understand me when I say that I’m talking to a married man? I fear I may become a home wrecker, but I didn’t want to see someone die, and suicide is not something to joke around with unless you are careful with what words you say. I don’t understand why I had talked to a married man, but let me explain. He was going through some problems. I felt like he had low self-esteem. He reminded me of myself when nobody listens to me, and so I will listen to what he had to say. I don’t know why, but his wife and her mere presence stung my aurora from the very day I encountered her. She was strangely too nice. Almost like I could tell she was not a nice person and as if she were portraying herself as someone she wasn’t. Not long do I learn she had been cheating on him with a variety of different men every single day. It angered me because I think this gives women a poor reputation or I would think it gives men an excuse to treat a woman like trash. I couldn’t understand how someone as thoughtful and caring as he could be with someone that treats him poorly. One thing to keep in mind is that this man grew up with a horrible relationship with his mother that would make him feel like he did nothing right. I learned men marry women that remind them of their mothers. It was very condescending of his wife to tell him she wanted to kill herself too, right after he had said it. Maybe I cared too much for people because even then when she said it I was upset for her, but realized it was one of her manipulative and toxic words to keep him. This married man had told me that when he married her, he knew she suffered from bipolar disorder and her mood swings rapidly and extremely change from one emotion to another. Despite loving her, he had said that he never thought it would be a problem in the future, but it appeared he was wrong. He had now decided to divorce her even before he found out from me she was cheating. It’s unfortunate that men like him who suffer from low self-esteem often start making poor choices and start depending on substance abuse as well. I realized something was off from his life, either drinking or smoking. The unfortunate thing is that once they have become tolerant, they find no other way till they succumb to death. It’s the ultimate self-deceiving many see out of the problems they have. Although, unlike me, I have touched no substance abuse. I had thoughts of ending it all. I don’t think I deserve the blessings and I feel like trash. I can never feel like I’m worth living because I fear that the world hates me. How can someone who has always received blessings fit into this chaotic world? Even when this fear of the world hating me reminds me of it every single day, I know this fear won’t win. As long as I’m alive, I keep winning every day and proving it wrong. I would even say I have won a bonus prize because saving two lives a day is worth it.

Style: 91%

It’s craaaaaaazy to think how my biggest fear has become to never live a life without you. For 39 years, we’ve been in lock and step with each other. Like on some, “Heeeeeyyyyy Twin” type-ish. And no shade to you because I played my part too, but respectfully, I’m done with you. I see how you’ve kept me from not wanting to be seen, experiencing unconditional love, accepting help from others, and even asking for help. I see how you’ve kept me playing small, afraid to shine the light that is so bright within me. There have been situations where I should’ve popped out and showed […] but instead I remained silent, not creating boundaries or advocating for myself. You’ve kept me from the truth, seeing it and speaking it and from living a fun and spontaneous life. Your chokehold has stifled my creativity and made change feel cumbersome and challenging.

It’s been giving, very Scary Spice, very Keeping up with the Joneses, but also very do you not know who TF you are?!!

The codependency of our relationship has made “letting go” some of the toughest and hardest pills to swallow. It’s kept me around people I had no business being around, questioning my own abilities and intellect and making me emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, and financially insecure. Our relationship has made me untrusting of others, but more importantly of myself, leaving me in a constant state of survival.

Last summer, my therapist asked me do I love myself? And as hard as it was for me to admit, I had to say, “No.” Admitting that cut me the deepest, because our relationship and my fear of abandonment made me believe I’m not loveable and good enough just the way I am. It made me believe people-pleasing, and being agreeable, never bucking the system, and always compliant, made me deserving of love and acceptance. I believed I was keeping myself safe when, in reality, I was dying a slow death, trying to show up and give others what I so desperately needed to give myself—LOVE.

We’ve literally been through it all. And I love you, because you have been a part of me, and I’m learning the importance of loving all of me, but today I release you with love. We go no further because just having this attachment is keeping me from being who I’m supposed to be—HER.

I’m writing you this letter, not to shame or guilt you but to liberate myself by choosing to release any residual anger for all the times I did not choose myself. To manifest the type of person and life I want to live, continue to heal and alchemize the pain I have endured and turn it into purpose.

You see, God has been reprogramming my mind and spirit to know and believe in something other than you—ME! She has been showing me the covering and protection over my life and how divinely guided I truly am. And through this unveiling, it has taught me how to trust in her divine plan and timing over my life. I believe when God has a specific calling over your life, it’s going to keep chasing you until you surrender to it. God’s been trying to show me why nothing else is going to work, no matter how hard I try. Our souls already have its divine purpose, its divine assignment and when you’re walking in your purpose, you don’t have to do anything but BE.

Now I’m going to be honest; I still don’t know the direction in which my life is headed. God has kept me cloaked from previewing that information, and I’m okay with that. Excited and anxious AF while waiting for it all to make sense, but still okay; and let me tell you why. I’m okay because I have worked diligently to make amends with you by digging deep and going into the depths of my shadows to identify the origin of your birth so I could heal every part of me affected by your presence. I’m okay because as I’ve gone through my isolation phase and endured every tower moment thrown my way, I see how God has been preparing me to step into a higher timeline by cultivating this unshakeable confidence, Omarion-like unbotheredness, and a magnetism only a Goddess in her divine femininity can create in me. He’s been developing my main character energy so I can be FREE to show up unapologetically as my authentic self. God said, “Genét, you are HER! And I chose you to be her because I’ve put a light and love inside of you to inspire and encourage others to see the same in themselves. But I need you to choose you too because you can’t choose you and fear? Not where I’m trying to take you. So, who is it going to be?”

And I chose me.

Style Score: 100%

UNMASKED FEAR

Dear haunted mind, muted in silence, filling in anger.

Nights were filled with nightmares as my mind fought to scream, only to produce sweat in moans and groans. Upon awakening, I pondered my paralyzed voice and its inability to scream precisely what I wanted to say. What was its cause, and where did it come from? I sought and confronted this monster with my tools gathered over the years. To confront the deep-rooted fear I believed was squatting in my being, I used meditation, reflection, acceptance, therapy, coaching, forgiveness, prayer, and all the things. The name burst from the hollow of my lungs one moonlit night during this journey. A scream so ice-clear it woke me from my sleep. M*****F*****.
The acquainted stranger only revealed its name, not its face, cause, or origin.
Could this mf be the face of my father’s volatile red anger? Or the knife of betrayal marked by the yellow fingerprints of a beloved best friend? Perhaps it was the thief in the dark night entering from the basement to steal the family stereo and sense of security. Or maybe it was the bruising rejection of not being allowed to participate in a Catholic first communion ceremony because my family is Presbyterian. In a child’s mind, this is beyond comprehension. Was I not good enough to marry Jesus? Would I need to be a saint without needing confession or forgiveness? That would be white perfection! Maybe the mf was the first hand to offer me the exhausting despair of a mind-mood-altering substance. It’s possible it was the disingenuous behavior of my children’s father who painted over me in a dismissing grey, fearing the reality of complete removal. Or could it be the father of lies who stalks and whose greatest feat is making the world believe he does not exist? Or even darker, maybe the fear is the monster within sabotaging self from being all God created me to be… a revealer of his enduring love.
The healing journey involved surrender, awareness, acceptance, trust, and a more profound forgiveness and all the things. Then, a dream in the moonlit night took me to a place in my mind where I waited for the terrorizer ascending from down within, basement-like, to the first floor of my heart. I stayed at the top as the mf climbed towards my mind. When it reached the top, with my right hand, I removed the mask, revealing a faceless emotion. The mf was not just one thing, event, or person. It was a feeling of danger, threat, and pain. The pain was my greatest fear and will undoubtedly accompany me in this lifetime, but God. And I felt its grip fading. Fear is not something I’ll get over easily or necessarily aspire to because I no longer fear the pain. I walk closer in my faith during these uncertain moments, looking for the color of the stained glass of life and my purpose. Giving thanks, I can endure for the sake of others.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”-Isaiah 41:10

Spirit-Fill
Melinda

87%

Dear fear of the unknown,

I’ve put your name in lowercase to foreshadow how small of an impact you’ll have on my life. I’m sure you’ve frightened many a perfectionist and inferiority-complex ridden individuals in your time, and this has included me. I’m sure you’d love the assurance of my going down memory lane and telling you how I’ve feared you since I was a little girl–how you began as a fear of darkness and later resembled something like a terror of failure, to now, when the future shouts at me from an unknown expanse and I can’t see what’s in front of me. Now, how I’m reminded of my childhood self again, how I recognize that familiar feeling creeping up inside of me.

I thought you should know my company let me go recently. After receiving a near perfect evaluation on my performance review for the seventh year in a row, my boss told me my position was being eliminated. He slid the review across his desk and said it was mine to keep after giving me the news in the most sincere way he could. Even though he told me it wasn’t my fault, there wasn’t a way around the difficulty of that conversation and the feeling of being phased out.

I thought you should know you haunted me that first week after receiving the news and recurrently after, as I’m hurled into the deep end of an unknown ocean. I find myself scared of the future, this fear taking the shape of a broken job market full of horror stories from others seeking employment. Not being able to see what’s on the other side of this door frightens me.

They’ve said to keep in mind I’m not the only one going through these kinds of things. They’ve said to remember that there are others experiencing just as bad, if not much worse. But what good does that do me when I’m alone in my room at night trying to fall asleep to the soundtrack of my life? What good does that do me when I’m sitting by myself in the spare bedroom of my home in the light of a blazing afternoon, as the day quickly shifts and the sun disappearing from the sky tells me I’ve run out of time. I should pack up and try again tomorrow.

But then I look out at the birds soaring in the soft blue sky, hovering around the sunlight. I see them gliding on the wind with their wings outspread as far as they can go, and, deeper than all of the fear and worry and anxiety, I have an even deeper feeling that I’m going to be okay. I’ve got a weight that’s more like an anchor inside me, never weighing me down, but in the midst of my most untamable emotions, holds me steady. And if moving steadily forward means first being grounded and stable, what I’m tethered to–or who–keeps me in His hands, holding the universe and my world in His nail-torn palms.

Where He is, is where I’m supposed to be, and I think I’m going to be okay.

Because maybe, just maybe, what waits on the other side of this door isn’t terror or fright, but wonder. Could it be that this fog hides something more breathtaking than I could ever think of? That someday soon I’ll discover it is little more than the cloak that covers the beautiful unknown before it’s revealed in all its glory?

The truth is, I know the ending of this story. Because it’s already written.

And if I stop for a moment and look around, I can see there is someone else beside me in this furnace, the same One who halts the stormy seas with His voice, who, when He calls out to the wind and waves and tells them to be still, they must cease. The One the fiercest storm bows to, even the storm of my own emotions.

His name is Jesus, and He’s already won this victory for me. All that’s left to do is walk forward and meet it in the future.

Sincerely and never yours,

( 90% style score)

Dear fear, you’ve been a great friend. You saved my life more than once. You’ve kept my feet on the ground when I wanted to fly. All my life I approached ledge after ledge and you kept me from going too far. I didn’t fall from the jungle gym because you advised me not to climb it in the first place. I didn’t follow the stranger with candy because you pointed out that I didn’t know where he was going. I didn’t drown in a big body of water because you took my breath away just looking in.
You’re the reason I lived past my childhood, but since I’ve grown up you’ve become a debilitating hindrance. I didn’t go to that party because you told me I’d stick out like a sore thumb. I didn’t pursue my interest because you told me I’d be an utter fail. I didn’t do a good deed because you said people would look at me weird. I didn’t follow my heart in love, because you said it would get ripped from my chest. I didn’t attach well to people because you said they’ll betray me anyway. I didn’t allow intimacy in relationships because you said it would hollow out my soul. I haven’ t done a lot of things that I really should have because of you. I’ve been learning more about you. About how you make yourself seem bigger than me, How you seek to control more of my life. Your voice shouts and clamors for more and more attention. You’ve convinced me many times to make ‘rational decisions’ that drain my soul of any joy. You have blinded me to my decision making abilities and strength.
Allow me to introduce you, my dear fear, to my God. My God is love, and his perfect love will cast you out. It’s time for you to pack up your half truths and go. You are no longer welcome here. Your voice is silenced when your lies are exposed. You are nothing more than a small monkey with enormous feet, hiding in the woods where creatures run in fear when they see your footprints, but laugh hysterically when they see your small stature and hear your simpering voice. You keep hidden, using only your footprints and long shadows to intimidate and terrify. Your raspy voice whispers lies to those cowering behind the boulders. They become yours to control until the truth exposes you for what you really are.
So now that you’ve gone from my life, I will do things I’ve always wanted to do. I know how to assess risk and make smart choices without being terrified. I will try new things and not be afraid of failure because trying again is the pathway to excellence. I will climb, because the view at the top is amazing. I will love deeply, knowing it’s better to be heartbroken than not to have loved at all. I will learn intimacy, knowing and being known is true connection. I will do good things and not wonder what people think of me. That’s not my business, anyway. I will not cower in safety while the worthwhile things in life pass me by. You will no longer keep me from experiencing abundant life, and the joys of living unfettered by the lies you tell. You whisper and woo, promising safety and comfort, but those soon become isolation and loneliness. Depression becomes constant for lack of purpose, you seem like a good thing, a good training tool for children, preventative harm, but you have become my box of shame and turmoil. I know the truth now, and it has set me free. Death is one of your favorite threats, but really, a life not lived freely, joyless and without wild abandon, with feet that cannot move, a heart that cannot love, a life that can’t be enjoyed, is to experience death without being dead. So as I go through my life with you banished from my presence, I will see your big footprints and know that you are on the run, for I have seen you in the light and laugh at your existence. You’ll have no power over me and I’ll no longer be yours to control. You’ll be on the run, hiding your shame in caves and I’ll tell others of your footprints and the tiny little liar that makes them.
With power and sound mind, no longer yours, Lisa
Style score from pro writing aid-100%

Dear Depths of My Fear,
My heart feels tight as my eyes see what is before me. I touch my chest as though that would help the feeling disappear. I thought a little at first. But as time passed, I noticed it creeping up more and more.
The beauty of the ocean is magnificent. The sounds of the water can be calming. And yet, thoughts of what lies beneath the water make my heart tighten. What seemed like nothing at first had only gotten worse.
How do you tell people that the depth of the ocean brings you this fear? Photos, videos, and even movies bring the smallest of fear into my body.
Fear–that one word that lingers in my mind. Can I overcome this? Is this going to overtake me? Or can I grasp this fear and face it head on?
Like the ocean, this fear was deep within me. I did not know it was there, or maybe I ignored it. Thinking it would go away. However, it was there, finding its way to the surface. I did not want to live in fear. I wanted to enjoy things like others do.
In my mind, I felt like the ocean could swallow me whole: the fear of the unknown.
I want to overcome this fear and not let it run my life. My mind wonders at the idea of overcoming it. Like breaking chains from a prison that only I was in. If I can comfortably watch a movie without the tightness in my chest… if I can tell my sister I feel comfortable swimming in the ocean… if I can just no longer feel it overcoming me. If only.
I stand strong as I prepare to face my fears, starting with where they started. The images that made my body feel haunted. It will be a slow process; this is something I know for sure. But with time, I will chip away at the fear that once controlled me. No longer keeping a hold of my mind…of my body.
Sincerely,
No Longer Afraid

(Style score – 100%)

I fear it is fear I do not lack.
Just a big scaredy-cat with panic attacks.
I react, such a strong impact,
the dread in my head on this body it attacks.
What was and wasn’t said, or may be fact,
or misread. I contend
with logic and reason, but anxiety
can be such a cancerous lesion.
It overtakes and takes and takes;
I feel possessed by a demon.
Such high stakes. It seems
a mutinous nervous system
has mastered its treason.
But to defy and spite these odds of plight
I battle my fright leaning towards the light.
Yes, it’s in the fight that we just might
us humans discover our animal bite;
true grit, to wit,
strength reminders that
we’re gonna be alright.
Fear is a catalyst and placeholder,
igniting a passionate motor,
and it summons forth our courage
while holding space for bravery to flourish.
I keep deep gratitude for the fear
and all it does dear
as it provides a clear need
for a solution to appear.
On the other side we find
hidden powers of the mind,
and the wisdom that is gained
is not earned in vain.
For all we attain through the pain
is too invaluable to complain,
and the hard-learned lessons remain
long after fear’s temporary reign.

Style Score: 73%

Prowriting Grade: Goals 68% Improvements 67%
It doesn’t like poems apparently,
and that is likely a good poem in itself, once written….

WHO WINS

Taking a photograph
of an empty picture frame
arranging the ponderosa pine boards
a wooded surround meant to be exactly right
around the nothing inside of it
fretting over the far off, distant speck
that could be a house or ranch
might be too much
subject matter in the photo,
everything had to be
Just Sooo…
or the addict would seek refuge
in the addiction
and the fight between the not-addicted
vs the addicted personalities
now stand eye to eye
nose to nose
the fighting almost starting
with the addicted’s steely little eyes
in a slanted head staring
into the focused non-addicted eyes
looking straight back
that is fraught
with an orange, determined compassion.

There, a cute woman
looking at me
short upturned nose
she was a part of something bigger
than herself.
She filled me, breached my stone redoubt
wanting a respite
even tho she pulled me towards her
with a silken rope
bit away from
but towards-to
hailing from me and returning
to me. We were both naked
making the intense attractions o much stronger
and dancing some primeval waltz
that energy exchange
alluring in close contact moist
nakedness bouncing, wiggling
wild hair not covering much
this intense attraction between us
to bond us,
“I am An Addiction” she says in a soft sexy, alto voice
finger slowly motioning to come hither
“I call to you to follow,
participate.”

Sometimes the addict wins
always the non-addicted is aware
of the hungry yearnings, the orgasmic attractions
each incidence is an empty frame tho
surrounding distance composed
wether, or not,
into a fretful awareness
of a grey, cloudy decision
on that perpetual blackboard,
was that another derision?
Or, just another carefully chalked mark
one two three four crossed slash-mark makes five
on the Self’s scoreboard information.
None of it a literal depiction
and nor is it a literary description
this being, the Self’s realization.

Dear Fear,

I see you. I always have, but since my daughter was born, you’ve been a lot less subtle about pushing your way into my head.

A long time ago, you told me that with my own poor mental health, I would be just like my own abusive mother. I believed you for the longest time and thought the only way to stop you was to never become a mother. It took a long time to realize that letting you control my life like that was the only way to guarantee you would always win.

Now, I have a person who makes me want to be better and gives me faith that I can break the cycle. I have my daughter now, but with her I only won the first battle and not the war.

You still show up like a stalker in the night. I see you in my lifeless, tired eyes in the mirror. In the shrillness of my voice when I yell at my crying baby, I hear you. When I have to put my baby down and walk away during a tantrum, I feel you in the tension of my muscles. You whisper, “See, I told you. You should never have become a mother. Now you are just like her.” And for a second, I believe you. I believe that one day, I will hurt her. That one day, I will see fear in her eyes when she looks at me. That I will be the reason her spark fades.

But you’re wrong. I am not my mother. I make mistakes and I am growing. Breaking a cycle does not mean I will be a perfect mom every time. What separates me from my mother is that I am seeking help. I know that my actions and choices are not okay. I want better for my baby.

Fear, I’m not saying you are a bad thing. You remind me to keep trying to improve. But you will never win because I will not let you keep me from loving motherhood and enjoying every chaotic second.

100% Style Score

My dearest fear—

Food, I am sorry for how I have treated you over the years. I have been told you are divine but my wants have always been elsewhere. Your presence always felt unconventional to me, which is why I kept my distance. Yet, I know I need you.

I’m defeated each day by the hateful things you caused to be said about me. Someone recently commented on my appearance, saying I look too thin — is that a compliment? I know now we need to come together, separating ourselves from the words spoken about how we need to be. The rules put on us are not laws. I will no longer let the negative thoughts of you win.

I say now; it is my best interest to find peace between us.

I find when you shape-shift into cold chocolate chocolate chip ice cream; you give me chills of joy.

Or when you warm me up with exquisite spices, in a delicious broth, with long, perfectly boiled noodles. 

I feel at peace with you in these moments.

But — I do not always trust you, and this brings me fear.

Though, I want to give you three reasons it is so hard to have trust in you—

1. You are always shape-shifting. 
Every time you are different. My life lacks consistency; please show understanding.

2. You do not always satisfy my needs.
When you interest me, it is only for me to try and face you. I wish you could do something to draw me in.

3. You cause more damage than good at times.
You multiply my fears. Why can I only have certain kinds of you without the thought of illness?

Maybe now that you know why I fear you so, I can find a way to trust you — at all times. I will learn everything there is to know about you. I will face this fear the world has gifted me with.

I have love for myself — this is why I need to face you.

Forever, I have asked so little of you. Now — I will ask for more.

Best,
Hannah Light

P.S. My best friend and I both have ARFID. This photo is us sharing our comfort food, french fries, on the subway to her house in NYC. It was taken by our friend sitting across from us. We did not know the photo was being taken at the time but we now call it our favorite photo, because anyone with ARFID knows, when you feel safe with the people around you and safe with the food, no matter where you are, it will feel like home.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 83%

Long Time No Feel, Fear:

I wasn’t sure of my response and/or reaction once I faced you again. Would I shyly overtly gaze while deflecting the awareness of your presence, or would I cower in my spirit as I’ve done many times before, allowing the paralyzing effects of you to make me run away and be silenced?

Writing this letter to you seems like an out-of-body experience. It’s amazing how time can heal all wounds, especially the residues that have sat in the crevices and recesses of my heart, mind, body, and soul.

For 45 years, I’ve allowed you to keep me hidden and silent about what others may say or how I look to other people. Fear, there’s no escaping the fact that you were a blanketed companion of mine that kept me safe from confusion, abuse, shame, lies, abandonment, and whatever else life has thrown at me.

I vividly remember our first real encounter on my 6th birthday with the Cabbage Patch Kids theme. Surrounded by my mama, cousins and friends, that day was to be one of the best days of my life. My dad was in his shop working, but it wasn’t any surprise to him that he wasn’t attending.

Once everyone left and Mama was cleaning up and asking did I enjoy myself, she said under the same breath that we needed to talk. Overly excited and giddy, I just knew there must’ve been more surprises that she had for me. Although, nothing could’ve topped this day in my world. She brought over a picture frame with our family photo inside that has been sitting there since I could remember.  She flipped over the frame and handed me a photo of a beautiful, small-framed woman that shared my smile and eyes.  

I looked at “mama” and she said, “I’m not your mama this is your real mama.”  Tears overflowing, I cried and apologized for being bad and talking back to her.  She smiled a little and sat beside me and said, “it has nothing to do with that. You need to know that this is your real mama.  She passed away when you were two years old.  Also, the lady at the church that you say is always looking at you with tears in her eyes is her mother so that is your grandma.”

In that moment, Fear, you remember you held me up even with everything running through my mind.  I questioned who was I?  I was inconsolable because what’s real and what’s fake if this picture has been sitting up there this entire time?  What does passed mean, is she coming back and needed a break from me?  Is my daddy my real daddy and it’s that why he’s not around me much.  My grandaddy who preaches is my dad’s father but is he even my real family?

It was so hard in that moment to grasp all I’d been told; but most of all hidden truth unveiled on my 6th birthday.  The next few days, I heard “mam” begging my dad to take me to see my real mom grave.  She said, “this will always be a special place for just you and your daddy.”  Still so many questions, exhausted from all the information in such a brief time.

Eventually, I began to decipher who was blood-kin to me and who I’m known to as their stepdaughter, step cousin, stepsister and just friends.  Once the exposure of the hidden truths, I found out that after my mom passed that I stopped talking until about aged 4 or 5 years old.  Now that I think back, you have been with me before I even knew myself.  I’m sure that’s why you’ve hung onto me so dearly as a protective mechanism that pacified me as the years trudged on.

As you well know, this year marks my 46 years around the sun and I’m feeling good. I’ve been on a spiritual journey that has allowed me to heal responsibly in every area of my life.  You can let me go now, I speak from my heart as a conqueror.  You are recognized as my shadow and a teacher; but there have been times that you have groaned louder, more insistent, and very controlling.  You are a constant reminder of what has hurt me, and it has shaped my decision-making and created procrastination within that I let go of.  You are released from hovering because I have a grasp on life and all it entails; you will no longer define my path.

Sincerely, 

My Soul’s Memo

General Styling Score: 71%

My dearest fear,

It seems strange how you can appear before me. You come up with just the right words, even tones, to make my mind spiral into little crumbles. Yet here I am, sat in front of my typewriter, clueless about how to confront you. It’s not an occasion that pops up often. A person’s first instinct isn’t to stop running, just to turn and face what terrifies them at their core.

You can mock me, even call me a poet, but it’s the only way I can crack open my heart right down the center. Fear you don’t haunt me, even though most would say so. You break my heart, starting at two pieces, ending in shatters. I wish you haunted me because it’d be mercy. The heartbreak is torturous to me.

When you fill my brain with thoughts of potential failures, results in my gut wrenching sobs, enough to fill the entire ocean, it doesn’t end until my eyes burn red. I hear the laughter of people who enjoy my lows in life. They view me as their personal circus animal, there to cheer them up with my sorrow. I listen to the disappointment in my loved ones’ pained voices, hoarse from all the pain they’ve had to release from their tortured souls, all because of ME!

Yet you can’t really break me, couldn’t keep me stuck like glue. It burns fury in your heart, thus a war breaks out. A war I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams. I will tell you fear. They lied to me about you. They told me if I faced you, it would be the end of the fight. Now, deep down, I guess it’s not the truth.

Once the dust has settled and I’ve turned my back, you throw your first knife straight into my heart. In pure shock, I grasp at the handle to pull it out. You take the advantage and strike me with your second knife while I’m kicked to the ground. In this exact moment, I learned that fear you are not a fair fighter, even worse, a sore loser.

I couldn’t back down just like this. Had to give it my all and attack right back. I won’t let you mark my brain as your personal battlefield. So I build the strongest shield to deflect your knifes of destruction. I build a catapult to throw stones of positive. Last but not least, I build an unbreakable brick castle to act as my safe space protected away from your fear tactics.

It’s over. You’ve lost the power you have over me. You crumble and fall to the floor. Understanding your reign of terror is over. You look over at me, shock in your eyes, piercing mine with the question “how”. With a smirk on my face, I declared to everyone that I would never quit until you were defeated. Now the sound of applauds grows louder and louder while I realized I won the battle. I’ve grown to know fear is a part of you. Deep down in your heart, you control and demand fear.
(100% style score)