Chances are, it had. I asked this question at a workshop I facilitated two weeks ago. Every single person raised their hand.

Here is the thing: fear is part of being human. Fear is what made it possible for our specie to survive. You want to be grateful to fear, and you also want to learn how to manage it, or it will control your life.

Whether you like it or not, fear will always be part of your life. And since you want to have a joyful one, the best strategy is to befriend your fear and channel it to your benefit.

Your immediate response to fear is to free yourself from it, but it’s the wrong response. The more you resist it, the deeper you sink.

There is no such thing as fearless. There are just fearful people who are willing to experience fear, drop the resistance, and allow fear to manifest, moving with fear instead of running away. 

How about stopping fighting against your fear and starting to sit with it, with friendly curiosity, allowing it to be as it is, without any desire to control it?

Here is a great way to start building a good relationship with your fear: write a letter to it!

Here an excellent example from Elizabeth Gilbert.

Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently, your job is to induce complete panic whenever I’m about to do anything interesting—and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making any decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still—your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the road maps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.

Let me know how it goes!

Love. Simone