No one ever tells you that bravery feels like fear.
Mary Kate Teske
What are you afraid of?
When asked to name your fears, your mind might go straight to the usual suspects—heights, spiders, public speaking, etc. But today, I’m asking you to dig a little deeper. To unearth a subtler form of fear: the kind that hums quietly beneath the surface of your awareness, creating tension and unease.
We all have it, and the particular flavor it takes for each of us stems from something called core wounds.
Core wounds are deep seated emotional imprints, often formed in childhood or through significant life experiences, that shape how we perceive ourselves and the world around us. They subtly, and subconsciously, influence our thoughts, behaviors, and relationships.
These are the wounds that lead us to believe, somewhere deep down, that we’re unlovable. That we’re not enough. That we don’t belong. That the people we love will leave us.
We’ll do just about anything to keep these fears at bay. Unfortunately, that often means falling into unhealthy coping mechanisms and behavioral patterns that not only hold us back, but sometimes create the very thing we are trying to avoid.
We numb out—with scrolling, food, shopping, or staying busy—anything to escape discomfort. We withdraw or keep people at a distance to avoid being hurt.
We overextend ourselves, say yes when we mean no, and abandon our own needs just to feel safe or accepted. (Hello, fellow people pleasers.)
We develop these strategies when we are very young. They serve a purpose at first. They help us feel safe. Over time, they become barriers to growth.
They keep us stuck.
That’s why one of the greatest gifts we can receive is the opportunity to face those fears head on. A gift I was so graciously given six months ago—when my whole world turned upside down.
Slaying the Dragons
If you had asked me what my deepest, darkest fear was before everything fell apart, I probably would’ve described the exact situation that ended up unfolding.
There are plenty of things that can go wrong in life—headline-worthy catastrophes that seem far more deserving of a top spot on a “most feared” list than what I went through.
But those aren’t the things that keep us up at night.
The fears that haunt us most are personal. The ones that threaten to reopen old wounds we’ve spent years trying to avoid.
For me, those wounds have always centered around a deep, internal sense of unworthiness—and a pathological fear of abandonment. The belief that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough.
Everything I’ve been going through lately has felt tailor made to bring all of that to the surface. To poke at every bruise and peel back every scab that never fully healed.
The universe is funny like that.
So what happens when nightmare becomes reality?
When all the boogeymen crawl out from under the bed and rip the covers off?
At first, I cowered. Curled up in a ball and tried to shield myself from what was happening.
Then I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran.
And when I realized I couldn’t outrun it, I turned around and put up one hell of a fight.
I kicked, screamed, clawed and punched. I closed my eyes and lashed out with all the rage I could no longer suppress.
And finally—exhausted, cracked wide open, out of options—I gave up.
I let my defenses fall and whispered, “What do you want from me?”
That’s when all of my fears stepped forward, one by one, and answered.
The first one said, I need to feel safe.
The second asked for unconditional love.
Another longed to be accepted.
One needed the freedom to speak her truth.
And slowly, I realized—they weren’t asking for anything from the outside world.
They were asking me. I was the only one who could meet their needs.
You know that phrase, “hurt people hurt people”?
Well, I was in a massive amount of pain. I was doing everything in my power to avoid feeling it—and in the process, I was destroying myself.
So with no other options in sight, I opened my arms.
I welcomed them in.
And chose to embrace them all.
Befriending Fear
Turns out, demons are only scary in the dark.
When I welcomed them into the light, I began to see the vulnerability they carried.
Their longing for love. The wisdom they offered. The truth that set me free.
Looking back on this wild, unfinished journey of healing and self-discovery, I ask myself “If I could erase all the pain and suffering—eliminate the situation that caused it all—would I?”
And, surprisingly, the answer is no.
Because erasing the experience would mean going back to who I was before.
To how my life was before. And I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I am so thankful that life brought me exactly what I needed to evolve.
I’m thankful for the transformation that unfolded in the aftermath of my own personal nightmare. So much good has come from this. I’ve learned lessons I couldn’t have grasped any other way. I’ve grown into someone I didn’t know I had the strength to become.
And I’m never going back.
So no—I wouldn’t climb into a time machine and prevent the cataclysmic train wreck that derailed my entire life. Not for anything in the world.
Because that train wreck turned out to be the beginning of everything I never dared to hope for.
Sometimes the most valuable gifts arrive in the shittiest packaging.
And wouldn’t it be a shame to miss out on what’s inside, just because we don’t like the container?
The Path to Inner Peace: A Yoga Nidra Practice of Forgiveness | Ayla Nova
45 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly
There’s something powerful about choosing one practice and committing to it consistently over time.
I’ve been doing this Yoga Nidra every morning for about a week now, and I plan to stick with it for at least another week. I started with the Sankalpa “I am at peace,” but somewhere along the way, it shifted to “I am free” and with each passing day, that feels more and more true. Resentment is dissolving. I can feel the practice working in my life—in subtle, yet tangible ways.
If you’ve been carrying the weight of something heavy, this practice might be exactly what you need.
How to Move into the Future with Optimism Instead of Anxiety | 10% Happier
1 Hour 10 Minutes | All Levels | Podcast for Everyone
I’ve listened to this episode of the 10% Happier Podcast with Dan Harris and Frederik Pferdt twice now. Uplifting, expansive, and surprisingly practical, it got me thinking about how I relate to the future.
Instead of focusing on what we want to do, have, or achieve, Pferdt invites us to imagine who and how we want to be. It’s a subtle but powerful shift—one that centers our inner world as the foundation for creating the future we want.
As someone who’s always trying to stay rooted in the present while also making sure I’m pointed toward a brighter future (not the past), this conversation delighted me. I think you will get a lot out of it too.
FEEL - 10 min Morning Yoga Stretch – Flexible Body Yoga Challenge | Yoga With Kassandra
12 Minutes | All Levels | Beginner Friendly
Another brief, gentle asana this week. I know I’ve been sharing a lot of these lately and I do plan to share some longer asana classes in upcoming newsletters. For now, we’re going with this lovely little sequence from Root&Rise fave Yoga With Kassandra.
“Feel” felt appropriate and, like Bird from last week, Kassandra is a pro at delivering these short and sweet classes. Pair this with the Nidra above for a beautiful and well rounded practice.
Here are a few questions to ponder throughout the week:
What are you most afraid of?
What protective strategies or old patterns do you use to avoid facing that fear?
How might those patterns be keeping you stuck?
What would happen if you turned toward your fear with curiosity and an open heart, instead of running away from it?
Remember, no one is coming to save you…because you are the hero in your own story!! You are brave, you are strong and you are capable of facing anything that comes your way. I believe in you!
Have a kick ass week.
See you next Sunday.
I needed to read this. Thank you! I am constantly telling myself that the universe is happening for me and not to me. It doesn't make it easier, but I can perhaps carry a different emotion that isn't negative.