A Letter to Fear.
My Dearest Fear,
Can I have a few words with you?
Just when my heart is fullest, there you are again. Just when I thought I was through with you.
You wake me up at night and tell me this is all just a dream. You tell me, “Dreams aren’t real and dreams are just for daydreamers.” My heart races.
“Go back to sleep,” you say.
You tell me I’m not worthy. You tell me it’s not possible. “Run back to the confines of your cage where safety blankets you. There’s no risk there.”
You’re always there, waiting for the perfect moment. Just when I think I’m over and done with you, you just keep coming back, like that toxic ex-boyfriend. Won’t you leave me be?
I’ll be close to a moment when I feel loved and valued and on my right path and exactly where I’m supposed to be, and then wham! There you are again.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be a writer,” you whisper to me. “Maybe life is easier single,” you suggest.
“Maybe the confines of nine-to-five living were safer. Maybe you should hide your words of wisdom inside. No one wants to hear that nonsense anyways. Go write fiction instead—no one needs to hear your story. Your words are too raw, too real, too vulnerable. Stop writing. Stop creating. Climb back to safety. Climb back into that hole. It’s dark in there. There, the light can’t blind you.”
Hello again, Fear. I’ve been waiting for you. And this time, I’ve got something to say to you. Can you take my hand?
I see you. I hear you. I know you’ll always be there.
And I love you. I appreciate you.
Fear, where you enter my heart, love is stronger. Where you instill doubt and uncertainty, faith and trust are more powerful. Where you tell me I’m unlovable, the universe’s love is more expansive.
Fear, where you tell me to take three steps back from the edge I’m peering over, the edge I know it’s time to cross, the edge that has been waiting for me but you kept me all these years from crossing—I’m finally leaping.
A universe awaits me with its infinite possibilities.
Now please give me back my pen. I’ve got a book to write—or three, or five. A boyfriend to love. A plane to catch. A life to live.
“Then we head off together—me and creativity and fear— side by side forever advancing once more into the terrifying but marvelous terrain of unknown outcomes.” ~ Elizabeth Gilbert
Author: Whitney Easton
Image: Andy Spearing/Flickr
Editor: Callie Rushton