What Lies on the Other Side of Fear? Nothing.
F**k around and find out.
What are you afraid of?
At the moment, my answer is: “publishing.”
I’ve been trying to write an issue of Strategy for Life for the last three days.
I’ve approached it from multiple angles. I’ve rewritten it, deleted entire sections, retitled it, changed the whole focus of the piece, and I can’t make it work.
It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know if I’m going to be able to write or publish anything.
But when I stand back and look at the situation, I realize I’ve been telling myself an unhelpful story, which is based on my fears.
Get on stage before you’re ready.
When Tim Ferriss asked Jamie Foxx for his best life advice, Foxx explained what he tells his kids:
What lies on the other side of fear? Nothing.
That’s the philosophy that allowed Foxx, as a young, classically trained musician, to get on stage and try standup comedy with no experience and every expectation that he would bomb.
It’s what allowed him to pester Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs in the ‘90s, continously asking him for access to one of his celebrity parties, until Combs finally relented and let him go, allowing him to connect with a powerful network that kickstarted his career.
When he thought about what he was afraid of — the shame of standing in front of a room of people who didn’t find him funny; the discomfort of bothering a famous person with better things to do — he realized that it boiled down to basically nothing.
The worst thing that could happen wasn’t that bad. A little embarrassment. A little discomfort. That’s it.
The same is true of many fears that hold me back.
The fear is real. But the story isn’t.
I’m genuinely afraid that if I publish the thing I’ve been working on, I’ll get in trouble.
People won’t understand it. They will think it’s sloppy, or maybe even offensive. My friends and family and anyone else who reads it will realize that I don’t know what I’m doing, and maybe that I never did know.
It will end with me alone, ashamed, and destroyed.
That fear is completely real. I feel it in my body.
But the story is obviously insane.
Publishing a less-than-well-written issue of my little newsletter is fine. In fact, it’s already happened a few times. So far, the police have not been called.
But my fear is marshalling all its resources to prevent me from doing something with uncertain outcomes.
Why we tell ourselves horror stories.
The awful stories we tell about how we’ll be destroyed if we step out of our comfort zones are part of our built-in emotional defenses.
It may seem as if our fear is designed to sabotage us, but in fact, it comes from parts of ourselves that are trying (desperately) to keep us safe.
The fear is a symptom of misguided self-love.
I’ve seen lots of compelling explanations for why we tell ourselves stories about how dangerous and awful it would be to take a risk:
It helps the Ego maintain its self-image: We are very invested in maintaining a consistent “self”; doing something new could shake up that self-definition, so the Ego finds every way it can to prevent it. (See this post for Taylor Swift-inspired ways to combat this.)
It allows Resistance to keep winning: “Resistance” is Steven Pressfield’s term for the force that leaps into action when we try to get out of our comfort zone and make something new. It’s insidious and will do everything it can to achieve its goal.
It avoids unleashing the Shadow Self: According to a long line of thinkers, stretching back at least to Carl Jung, there’s a “Shadow Self” in each one of us: the side of us where we hide the things we’re ashamed of and don’t want to face. Because that shame is so deep, we do everything we can not to risk exposing it. Doing something new, and delving into our thoughts, might release our shadow.
It maintains Stasis: We may not consciously enjoy the place we’re at in our lives, but we do feel comfortable and safe in it, even if it’s rarely ecstatic or exciting. That’s why part of us freaks out when we take a risk; we think we don’t want to leave the rut that we’re in, even though part of us really does.
What to do instead.
You can’t make the fear go away. You can’t prevent yourself from telling stories.
But you can question those stories. And you can take a leap without knowing exactly where you’ll land.
Byron Katie’s “The Work” is the best method I’ve come across so far for examining and disarming the stories we use to keep ourselves in stasis.
Write down the story you’re telling yourself, in the most petty and childish way you can, and then read it back to yourself and ask these four questions:
Is it true?
Can I be absolutely certain it’s true?
How do I react and what happens when I believe the story?
Who would I be without that story?
Answer those questions — with as much honesty and thoughtfulness as you can — you then take your story and try turning it around.
So for me, in this situation, I can take my story of “I shouldn’t publish this piece because my readers will lose respect for me” and try some turnarounds:
“I should publish this piece because I will gain respect for me.”
“I am open to my readers losing respect for me.”
“I look forward to my readers losing respect for me.”
When I sit with those thoughts, they reveal some things about my story: it’s not true, and in fact the opposite of the story is true in profound ways.
Can’t move? Do something else.
If you can see the logic in what I’m saying but still feel like you can’t make progress — you’d love to find the other side of fear, but you’re currently tied up and covered in glue, thank you very much — then I recommend doing what I did with this post: pick something else that you can do, and do that instead.
I may never publish the post I was originally struggling with. But I suspect I will.
I’m not as afraid of it now as I was when I started writing this. And I feel immensely better because I did something.
If my story comes back — that it’s dangerous to make and share things, that I don’t know what I’m doing — at least I have this piece, written and published, as proof that suggests the opposite.
Whatever you’re struggling with, whether it’s making a decision, having an awkward conversation, improving your habits, or anything else, the same logic applies.
Good luck, and remember: there’s nothing on the other side. Don’t be afraid.
Nice piece Malcolm! 👌