Inspiration | Self-Help | Conquering Fear

This Is How to Stop Letting Fear Run Your Life

And what can happen when you do.

“Can’t fear fear; fear’s the mind-killer.”

— Matthew Good, singer-songwriter

One of the greatest and most profound lessons of my life (so far) has been our incredible ability to change.

In my own life, the single most powerful change occurred when I stopped letting fear stop me. But first, I had to understand its terrible hold on me and its destructive influence in my life. I had no idea how much damage it had been doing.

I will never forget the moment I came to this awareness. My life had blown up yet again as I was facing yet another divorce (thanks to toxic beliefs from an abusive childhood). I had been chipping away at my healing journey for several years, doing my best to be a better person and to create a happier, healthier life.

Yet there I was, once again, in an unhealthy situation that I’d simply had to end.

I remember shaking my fist heavenward and asking the Powers That Be, “What do you want from me? Is it my destiny to suffer? Am I supposed to be unhappy and have nothing but one crisis after another?”

I pondered that second question for a few moments and quickly decided that it was ridiculous. Especially as there was another question hot on its heels: What about Free Will?

I decided that perhaps “destiny” is only a potential for where we could end up and whether or not we get there is down to Free Will.

“Okay,” I told myself. “That makes sense. So if it’s not my destiny to suffer and be unhappy, that means I had a hand in getting here. And if I don’t want any more of this, I need figure out how it happened.”

The answer changed my life.

I spent most of that day and the next at my computer, typity-type-type-typing away about all the major decisions I’d made in my life. I started with the first one that catapulted me away from childhood and into the world of adult decisions — even though I was just 16.

I left home.

I’d had enough of the abuse and alcoholism. I figured I’d ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

Needless to say, that’s not exactly what happened.

As I sat at my computer and looked at every one of the biggest decisions I’d ever made, I peeled back the layers of each one.

Until finally, the ultimate reason for the decision was revealed.

And every single one of them was rooted in fear.

During those two days I was writing about the impact of fear on my life, it took me back to my earliest days in the womb of my 15-year-old birth mother.

She had been sent to a hospital “for naughty girls.” Alone and frightened, she was living in an era where you just didn’t get pregnant without marriage.

When I met her years later, I learned that although she had wanted to keep me, her mother and my father did not. I was a dirty little secret and they wanted me gone.

The imprint of their rejection left a lasting impression on my little soul. From my earliest existence, I felt unloved and unwanted. Along with my mother’s fear of forced abortion, I was imprinted with fear for my very survival.

Add the traumatic and abusive upbringing I experienced, I was waking in the night with panic attacks by the age of 9. In my late teens I was a divorced, single parent with a load of anxiety disorders — anorexia, OCD, agoraphobia, and then developed an addiction in a pathetic attempt to cope with the anxiety.

I was eating, breathing and sleeping in fear.

All. The. Time.

Fear was at the root of every big decision I had made. Decisions that had brought chaos, crisis, struggle, and far too much unhappiness for myself, my children, and others.

Until that day.

I had spent two days examining my life and the choices I had made.

Finally, I faced the sobering reality that nothing good will ever come from a decision that is based on fear.

I swore that if I ever heard myself begin a sentence with, “I’m afraid to…” I would have to do “it” — whatever “it” was — within the limits of the normal things people do. There was no requirement to bungee jump or skydive. But I could — and would — stop letting fear make my decisions for me.

And it would begin right there and then with that promise.

A few days later, the Universe would give me its first test. I was living in Calgary, in Western Canada, and I received an email from Melanie (not her real name), a former Calgarian friend who had relocated to England.

“Come and visit!” she said. “You’ve had such a tough time with this awful divorce…you could use a break!”

For no apparent reason, my first thought was ‘But I’m afraid to go!’

Afraid of what, I didn’t know. All I knew was that fear flooded through me at the very thought of it. Residual bits of agoraphobia sprinkled liberally with generalised fear and anxiety, I suppose.

And as I heard myself think ‘But I’m afraid to go!’, my second thought was ‘Damn!’

I looked heavenward again and said, “Seriously? All the way across the planet? You do remember that I used to suffer with agorophobia, right? And that I’m still a serious homebody? How about if I just go to Cochrane for ice cream?” (A popular treat for Calgarians, this is a short drive to a nearby town famous for its homemade ice cream)

But it was too late. The request had already come. And I had already uttered the words.

I had to honour them. Either that or keep messing up my life by making poor decisions out of fear. So — nope, not an option. I had to go.

Oh, I tried to get out of it legitimately. I never had any particular interest in England; I wouldn’t have ever chosen to go there. Did that count?

Uh…no. You said if it started with “I’m afraid to…” and if it was something the average person would do, you’d do it.

Man, sometimes I can be such a nag.

But wait! I did have some financial concerns, especially in the midst of a divorce from a highly unpredictable, volatile ex-husband upon whom I could not rely for financial support.

Plus I still had a couple of kids at home.

There we go, two solid reasons why I can’t go. Shucks. That could have been fun.

I told a friend all about it, lamenting the reasons why I couldn’t go to England (whew!). He said, “It’s spring. You can probably get a cheap charter flight. And the kids could go to their dad’s; they’re already there 3–4 nights a week, what’s a few more?”

He had me there. I had to follow up on these suggestions; he was going to be checking and I wasn’t about to lie.

“Dad” agreed to the extra time with the kids. I got the last seat on a charter flight was available at a crazy good price.

I was doing it. I was going. And I was terrified.

My whole world was about to change.

Melanie and I were about 10 minutes out of Heathrow on the M4, heading to her home. I will never forget the moment we stopped chatting long enough for me to look out the windscreen at the rolling green hills.

Suddenly, tears flowed as a powerful thought raced through my heart. “Oh, my God. I’m home!” Overcome with emotion, I had always felt “different” and never felt like I belonged anywhere — until that moment.

Having been on an overnight flight, I arrived in the morning. We got to my friend’s house and her housemate, Ian, offered to make a cucumber and Marmite sandwich for me.

“What’s Marmite?”

“Not telling.” Eager to impress me and show off a little “something English,” he enjoyed toying with the Canadian. He did not know that I was massively phobic about vomiting and was terrified to eat anything that might make me sick — e.g. raw meat, fish, eggs — and so much more.

I tried to get a clue or two out of him but he wouldn’t budge. Alarm bells screamed in my head. I’m afraid to eat it! I might be sick!— which for me was a fate worse than death. Literally.

Oh, no! There it is again! “I’m afraid to…” And that awful promise!

With a heavy sigh, I agreed to try. As it turned out, it’s a yeasty-tasting, super salty condiment. Not terrible but definitely not for me.

And I was not sick. (Whew — again!).

That same day, Melanie and her fiancé offered to take me out for an Indian dinner. Something else I had always avoided, not being good with spicy food. Oh, dear Lord. Are you kidding me??

More fear, more panic, and more terror about being sick. Twice in the same day.

As it turned out, I loved every morsel (major whew!). Pure heaven.

I was beginning to get the hang of this “facing my fears” thing. To be honest, I rather enjoyed it! I tried bits and bites of everything on the table. And was stunned to discover that I adore Indian food.

Throughout my three-week holiday, I was unstoppable. I tried all sorts of new things, facing down fears left, right and centre. I had the time of my life and fell more in love with this beautiful little island by the minute.

And when I got back to Calgary, I was completely and utterly homesick for England.

Fast forward…Ten months later, the former agoraphobic moved across the planet. Yes, folks, she did.

It was an enormous shock to all who knew me.

Finally, my life began.

Those three weeks in England had tested my promise time and time again. The Universe meant business.

And so did I.

I didn’t even hear “But I’m afraid to…” anymore. How else could I have moved to the other side of the world?

As soon as I relocated to England, I conquered my fear of driving on the other side of the road on those skinny, winding country lanes with no shoulders and nowhere to go when a huge lorry is barrelling down on you. Before long, I was tearing all over the country — and the continent for mini-holidays here and there, too.

Because of the outrageously challenging life I’d had prior to moving here, all I’d ever known was “putting out fires.” I hadn’t had an opportunity to be myself, be creative, have fun, or pursue my dreams.

For example, I’d always wanted to write but hadn’t done much of it. After moving to England, I published my first three books in eight months.

I loved art as a kid but never got to do anything with it. Once I was living in England, I started painting and covered 50 canvases in the first month.

By the end of that month, a couple of those paintings were hanging in an art gallery, and several more were on display in an up-market pub. A few months later, I was invited to have my first of several exhibitions.

As a child, I became aware of my abilities as a psychic and medium. These began to blossom in England and I fell into the most amazing opportunities, such as ending up doing “psychic phone-ins” on BBC Radio every month or so for about five years. I appeared on stages connecting audience members with loved ones in spirit.

And so…much…more.

I could not believe the ways in which my life had changed — or more accurately, the ways in which I had changed. I discovered more about myself than I could ever have imagined if I had stayed in Calgary.

The whole world opened up to me — because I had opened myself to the world.

It is said that most of what we fear isn’t ever actually going to happen. Either that, or it already did. If your fear is holding you back, if it’s keeping you stuck and trapped when you know there’s so much more to life you’d like to experience, give yourself the gift of the same promise I made to myself. It’s the only way you’ll ever know who you really are or what the world can offer you.

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