I remember the period when my company was preparing to merge with a large corporation. Rumors of layoffs spread like wildfire. Every morning I woke up with a heavy chest, my nerves stretched as tight as a bowstring. A vague, lingering fear hung over me, clinging to me all day long. Even though nothing specific had happened yet, I lived in constant anticipation of a disaster.
I was afraid of losing my job. I was afraid my income wouldn’t cover my bills. I was afraid that one day I’d look back and see myself stuck in the same spot while the rest of the world rushed past. That fear didn’t make me panic instantly; instead, it acted like a slow-moving acid, quietly eating away at my energy every single day. It took a long time to realize: I wasn’t overcoming my fear; I was just running from it.
“We aren’t usually afraid of reality; we are afraid of the worst-case scenarios our minds dream up.”
Table of Contents
1: Naming the “Monster”
The more I ran, the bigger the fear grew. Every time I felt anxious about the future, I’d bury my head in social media or busy work just to forget. But while I avoided it by day, it found its way back at night—stronger and more vivid.
Until one evening, I decided to sit down and ask myself point-blank: “What exactly are you afraid of?” I grabbed a pen and paper and started listing it out, avoiding vague terms:
- If I lose my job, what do I fear? $\rightarrow$ Not having enough money for expenses.
- If I don’t have enough money, what happens? $\rightarrow$ I’ll have to borrow money and depend on my family.
- Why is that scary? $\rightarrow$ Because I’ll feel like a failure and lose my self-respect.
As it turned out, I wasn’t just afraid of losing a paycheck; I was afraid of losing control over my life. Once the “vague fear” had a specific name, it suddenly became a solvable problem.
2: Facing the cold, hard numbers
I did something I used to avoid at all costs: I looked at the math. I opened my savings account and listed my fixed monthly costs, from rent to groceries. I asked myself: “If I lost my job today, how long could I survive?”
The result wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it wasn’t as catastrophic as my imagination led me to believe. I realized I wouldn’t “die” tomorrow. I had time to figure things out; I could live more frugally or take a temporary gig. From that moment on, my fear was cut in half. It was no longer a “disaster”—it was a “math problem” in need of a solution.
“Clarity is power. When things are laid out in numbers, fear loses its authority.”
3: Building a “Safety Net” while you’re still safe
I was afraid because I felt like I had no options. So, I started creating my own backup plans, one step at a time:
- I updated my resume and looked at new opportunities.
- I researched what other skills I could use to earn money outside of my current job.
- I enrolled in a short certification course to increase my value.
Each small action didn’t solve the company’s merger issues, but it gave me an incredibly important feeling: I was moving. Once I no longer felt stuck, fear lost the power to steer my life.
4: Separating “Fact” from “Fiction”
It took me a long time to understand this: I hadn’t lost my job yet, but I had been living like someone who already had. Whenever anxiety rose up, I’d ask myself: “Is this actually happening, or am I just imagining it?”
If it wasn’t happening yet, I went back to focusing on today: doing my job well and keeping my health and mind sharp. I learned to stop living in a future that hadn’t arrived.
“Facing your fear isn’t about making it disappear; it’s about moving forward even when your heart is still trembling.”
Adults aren’t afraid of ghosts; they’re afraid of failure and falling behind. The day I stopped forcing myself to “stop being afraid,” my heart felt lighter. I gave myself permission to be scared, but I refused to let that fear dictate my actions.
Overcoming fear isn’t about being braver than everyone else; it’s about being brave enough to face it, prepare for it, and keep walking.
What fear has been “hanging over your head” lately? Try grabbing a piece of paper, sitting down, and writing it out in detail, just like I did. When you look it right in the eye, you’ll see it’s not as giant as you thought. What does your “monster” look like? Share it with me!
