TL;DR: Fear, fatigue, truth-telling, and crying in wall sits
I love collaboration. It brings me joy, connection, resonance. And yet, I’m more practiced in independence—leading, executing, carrying. So when collaboration stretches on too long without pause, I don’t just feel tired, I feel drained.
My old story tells me this exhaustion is weakness. That I should push through. Be relentless. Prove I’m unstoppable because that means I’m powerful. But underneath that story is fear: I’m not enough.
This week, I didn’t listen to my fear right away. There was a small flicker on Sunday—a whisper of dread—but I ignored it. I told myself, I can do this. I always do this.
MONDAY
Thankfully, I’ve built rituals that catch me when I won’t catch myself. My Monday morning meditation surfaced the truth: I’m scared to record the podcast today. I’m scared it won’t be useful. That I won’t be useful. I sat with it. Then I went to qigong with my business partner and podcast partner, T, and shared my fear. She met me in it. We recorded anyway. And the podcast? It wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t terrible. It just was. And that felt… okay.
TUESDAY
Tuesday came. More recording. I meditated again. More fear: I’m scared I’ll let my team down because I’m tired. Instead of holding it in, I shared it out loud. I asked, gently: Can we not do two podcast days in a row anymore? They agreed. And just like that, I felt lighter. Seen. Supported. The fear passed, not because I outsmarted it, but because I spoke it. The podcast, again, wasn’t great. Wasn’t terrible. It just was. And that was enough.
WEDNESDAY
Wednesday unraveled me. I did all the “right” things—meditation, movement, Pilates with T. I celebrated my body’s strength and healing, but halfway through the day, I hit a wall. Agitated. Judgmental. Tired. Spent. And though I could have rescheduled, I didn’t. I showed up depleted. I offered less than I wanted to. And here’s what I’m practicing, not shaming myself for it. I’m collecting this awareness. Letting it grow my confidence to speak up next time. That is the work. On my drive home, I listened to Healing Through the Dark Emotions by Miriam Greenspan. She spoke of six core fears:
- Fear of pain
- Fear of loss
- Fear of death
- Fear of isolation
- Fear of vulnerability
- Fear of chaos
And suddenly, I saw myself in all of them. I often call myself fearless, but that’s not true. I feel fear constantly. I just rarely let myself feel it. I often perform bravery instead of embodying truth. So I tried something new: I sat with it. I said the fears out loud:
- I’m scared my dogs will die.
- I’m scared I’m a bad person who hurts others.
- I’m scared I’ll hurt myself on my motorcycle again.
- I’m scared I won’t live an authentic life.
(there were so many more)
It didn’t feel good, but it felt real and that brought peace.
THURSDAY (TODAY)
Thursday morning, I meditated again, this time with the intention to face fear directly. Tara Brach’s voice guided me in, then suddenly: loud, piercing gongs. My whole body flinched. I wanted to rip my earbuds out, but instead, I stayed. The sound wasn’t hurting me, it just surprised me. My brain screamed pain! but my body knew: this is just fear. And then something wild happened. The podcast replayed itself (thanks, tech glitch), and this time, the gongs sounded… beautiful. Familiar. Almost comforting. Fear had shifted.
Later, I trained with my coach. I expected strength work because that was what I asked for last week, something powerful and validating, but what I got was a deceptively simple movement I’ll call The Teacup. Light weights. Gentle wall sit. Controlled reach. It looked like nothing. It felt like everything. Every muscle rebelled. I could feel old trauma, tightness, tension—grief—leaking out of my bones. I dropped the weights. I kept moving, and eventually, I dropped to the floor.
“I need to cry,” I said.
“Take your time,” he replied. Safe. Steady. Unshaken.
And so I did. I sobbed for all the years I overrode my own needs. For the way I’ve prioritized others. For the ways I’ve lost and left myself behind. I didn’t even know what I was releasing, but I released it, and when I apologized for crying, he said:
“You’re water, Rocky. You’ve been dammed up for so long—and now you’re flowing. This is why we do the work.”
I feel open now. Tender. A little scared, still, but also more me.
This is what I’m learning:
- Feeling your feelings is a form of wisdom.
- Speaking your truth is a form of leadership.
- Restoring your energy is a form of care—for you and others.
- Fear, when felt, is not the enemy, it’s a doorway.
Peace isn’t the absence of fear. Peace is presence with all that is. And I’m learning to live there.
