Understanding That Fear Cannot Be Overcome
The title is posed as a question. It can (and should be) interpreted one of two ways.
- What is something tangible that you are afraid of?
And…
- What is holding you back? What scares you away from attempting or beginning “x?”
In most cases, fear presents itself in the form of resistance. Resistance that holds us back from any number of things. But, what is this fear? What is it that we as a human species are so afraid of?
The tangible fears are relatively straightforward. Scared of the dark, of heights, snakes, spiders, clowns – blah-blah-blah.
Fear of the intangible is a real son of a gun. This is what will keep you from pursuing what you know in your heart should be rightfully pursued; starting a business, committing to a new fitness venture, switching careers, writing a book, letting your creative animal out of its cage. This comes in waves, for most. Fear of going broke, fear of disappointing your family and friends, fear of acting selfishly, fear of losing yourself or of losing others – you’re afraid of failure.
However, there is a fear that stands above all, the king of all fears, so to speak. As Steven Pressfield so brilliantly noted: you’re afraid that you will succeed.
It’s true. We’re all so caught up in the superficial fears at the forefront of our brain that most will never consider the idea that we are scared to death of becoming who we were masterfully designed to become. But why? Shouldn’t that excite us? To some degree, it does. But, ultimately, it scares us to our core for one reason or another, a primary of which being: it’s uncomfortable.
Finding Comfort in the Uncomfortable
I’ve been afraid a lot in my life. Over the years, I’ve spent countless hours recounting my experiences, positive and negative alike. Examining the primary fear that took hold in my youth, and didn’t disengage until I developed the wherewithal to face it head on – I was scared to death of failing. This, of course, I have now come to realize was truly a fear of succeeding. In the depths of my being, I was so afraid of reaching my fullest potential because it was uncomfortable. It takes a lot of work, a lot of sweat, tears and pain to succeed. I didn’t want to put in the exhausting work necessary to reap the ultimate reward.
It was easier to pretend. To skate by, to take the road traveled by most.
I’ve grown to find it quite ironic – the lengths which we will span in order to avoid pain. We as humans will take the long way around just about anything, if given the opportunity. A project at work, reading a book, earning a degree, working out – we search for the easy and painless option in each of these. This, inevitably, is to avoid failure.
Oh, how silly we are to believe this method to be most virtuous.
It’s not entirely our fault. At least not at first. The easy way out has become the norm. The world is filled with “hacks” literally and figuratively. Quick fixes and those who sell such concepts – both of which serve as hacks, in my book. This has in fact become so common that we seek refuge in the easy way out, not because it’s the path we so desperately aim to take (though that must be true for some) but due to the fear of being outcast. Being shunned by your tribe for taking a leap toward greatness, toward the version of yourself that you long to become.
How dare you?
Outside forces – pressure from others, (i.e. family, “friends,” co-workers, etc.) causes fear within us all. More accurately, it causes uncertainty and self-doubt. We begin to doubt our abilities while simultaneously fretting over the extreme resistance we’re currently receiving and how much more intense it will surely become if and when we make it. If you reach the pinnacle of whatever it is you are striving for. Whatever it is that these outside forces are consciously or subconsciously attempting to keep you from.
These forces make us uncomfortable – afraid, if you will. Which drills home my statement; We must become comfortable being uncomfortable. The importance of this cannot be overstated.
In the wrestling sphere, this is referred to as taking yourself to deep waters. Training in such an intense manner that you grow accustomed to the depths of hell that you could encounter in a match. Why deep waters? Because it’s hard and uncomfortable in deep waters. This is a metaphor, of course. We don’t actually drag each other into deep pools of water. The sentiment remains an effective practice and mindset all the same. When you’ve intentionally taken yourself to these deep, dark places, you’re ready to rock. You’ve been there. You’re comfortable being uncomfortable.
Make sense?
Take yourself to deep waters. Do uncomfortable things to become more comfortable when unwanted situations arise – which they will. There is no way around this. That’s life.
You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide
I have this sign in my house that I acquired many years ago, although I’m not exactly sure where or how. Nevertheless, it is one of the few things that I’ve kept with me since moving away from my childhood home – it has graced a wall within each apartment and now home that I’ve lived in. It’s an old John Wayne quote on fear. Something about it has always resonated with me.
That thing you are afraid of – it will always be lingering. It won’t go away. There is no magic fix to make the “bad thing” leave you alone. You can’t fully overcome it, because it’s part of you – but, you can face it. You can make less of it through your actions.
Here is a unique example of the intricacies associated with fear of something:
There truly isn’t much, tangibly speaking, that I’m afraid of. Spiders don’t bother me, heights have become second nature, clowns are weird but just don’t do it for me. One thing, however, continues to live rent free in my head. I hate snakes. They rattle me. (No pun intended.)
Since childhood, the mere thought of these creatures will send shivers down my spine. For the longest time, I would do as most “rational” folks do, by avoiding any instance in which I may encounter a snake in its entirety. This, as I’m sure you know, did nothing but amplify the fear. Why? Because there is immense fear in the unknown.
If I never see snakes, they remain the “unknown,” thus causing my fear to run rampant.
Now, I don’t seek out snake encounters. I don’t hang out in their exhibit at the zoo, nor did I buy one as a pet (which, quite frankly should probably be outlawed – yuck.) But, I don’t aim to avoid such meetings anymore. I don’t steer-clear of them in hopes of saving myself from a moment of panic.
I enjoy running trails in the woods and out on remote gravel roads. My enjoyment of these two running environments is ever-present, despite the frequent encounters I will and do experience with a snake or two. Though my relationship with these animals is evolving and I’m growing to stomach their presence by facing the fear itself, I’ve come to learn that fear exists and manifests itself in some way, regardless of my efforts. This is non-negotiable.
Get a load of this:
Recently, I was out on my weekly long run. It was (roughly) 5:00 am on a Saturday. The night prior, a large storm had rolled through, dumping several inches of rain.
Iowa, April, rain, humidity, gravel roads – snakes.
I was more than well aware that I would see plenty of my slithery friends, I was sure of it. And I did. Three within the first 45 minutes, to be exact. I was handling myself quite well. As my route took me off the long stretch of gravel roads, onto pavement, I felt a sense of accomplishment – I was proud of myself in some odd way.
Jubilant as I was, runners high and all, I was abruptly brought back down to earth.
As I trucked along down the glimmering pavement, the sun was beginning to crest the horizon. I was feeling free. Headphones in, listening to what exactly I cannot remember. Whatever it was – was quickly overpowered by a loud, hair-standing scream-like sound. Quickly as I’d done anything in recent memory, I ripped a headphone from my right ear, coming to an immediate halt. Eyeing the direction from which the noise came, I spotted a bobcat perched in a tree some 50 feet (I’m grossly estimating) from me.
For a moment, I stood paralyzed, equal parts stunned and afraid. Afraid of what? The fear of a bobcat had never registered prior to this moment. My mind had been so deeply set on the serpents making their way from one ditch to the other.
Slowly, I inched forward. Following me with its eyes, the bobcat remained perched in the tree directly across from where I shuffle down the blacktop. At last, I had created enough separation to comfortably begin running again. And I did. Faster than I had all morning.
What was that all about? What a crazy encounter. I could just leave it as such, and assume it to be nothing more. But no. I believe it is more – at least in my own mind. My fear of snakes – in that moment, that wet Saturday morning – had a tight hold on me. I had faced them head on, proudly achieving a distance from such a fear, or so I thought. Just as the cuffs of fear were being released from my wrists, my ankles were locked down with shackles of their own, by a fear I didn’t know was there.
Perhaps my brain operates far too philosophically. I’m open to that assumption. Maybe this scenario was nothing more than happenstance. But I believe otherwise. This was a reminder of something we all must internalize: no matter our attempts, that fear in the depths of our core cannot and will not be outrun.
Face It Daily
To begin writing at all was to face a fear that had been present for many years. As strange as it may be to admit, I was afraid of writing. Not in the same way that I’m afraid of snakes. Not afraid of putting words to paper, but the expression of the art itself. This fear was resistance. Resistance that still exists because, as I so intently insist upon, it can’t be escaped in its entirety.
To once again reference the legendary Steven Pressfield:
“We fear that we have the talent that our still, small voice tells us. That we actually have the guts, the perseverance, the capacity. We fear that we truly can steer our ship, plant our flag, reach our Promised Land. We fear this because, if it’s true, then we become estranged from all that we know.”
We fear the unknown. We fear what we can’t see, and what we don’t know exists. We fear what is uncomfortable. We fear success. We fear this, not out of cowardice, but out of anticipation. If it scares you – good.
No, it can’t be outrun. You will continue to carry it with you, even if in the nooks and crannies of your mind. The fear will exist and manifest in its own ways, regardless of your efforts. Our only option is to accept it. To face it every day. The work is what scares us, at least in the short term, and so it’s work we must do. Work to actively advance yourself in relation to fear. Scared to run? Run. Afraid to write? Write. A deep fear of public speaking? Do it anyway.
After all, this option is all there is. And the only option there will ever be.
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Forged in Fire 
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