Beyond the Fears We Hold

Fear is a whisper in the dark, a shadow that lingers, shaping our choices without us realizing it.

For over 40 years, I carried a fear of dogs like an old, heavy coat: burdensome, yet familiar.

When did it start? In childhood. Why? The moment I saw that dogs could bite, even though I had never been bitten, it was enough for my mind to decide they were a threat.

Every bark sent a chill down my spine, every wagging tail felt like a warning. I convinced myself that dogs and I were simply not meant to be.

Then I became a mother, and with that, a promise. A simple promise to my son, a promise that would shake the foundations of my fear.?

He was five years old and wanted a dog for his birthday. Hoping he would forget, I promised he could have one when he turned twelve, when he was “responsible enough” to care for it.

But children don’t forget what matters to them. Seven years later, just months before his twelfth birthday, he asked me if I remembered my promise. I found myself saying, "Yes." Though deep inside, I wished he had forgotten.

Excuses swirled in my mind, ways to escape the fear looming before me. I had trapped myself with only two choices: break a promise to my son or confront my fear. And there was no way I would let my fear break my son’s trust.

And just like that, Benji entered our lives.

A five-year-old Maltese, white as snow, small in stature but immense in spirit.

When we met for the first time, he did something unexpected. He looked at me—not just at me, but into me.

His soft, brown eyes held no judgment, no expectation—only an invitation. He bowed slightly, as if acknowledging my hesitation, and with that gentle, unspoken gesture, he gave me a choice: to approach or retreat. My heart pounded, my body trembled but I stepped closer.

I had spent years believing dogs were unpredictable, something to be feared. But here was Benji, showing me the truth: my fear had never been about dogs. It had been about me, about the stories I had told myself, the walls I had built.?

At first, I remained on guard, ready to run and shut myself behind a door if needed. But it never happened. My heart still raced at his movements, but curiosity whispered louder than fear.

I observed him, studied his playful, loving nature. And then, something in me softened. In just a week, I mourned the decades I had spent missing out on the warmth, and unconditional love of a dog. Today, 10 years later, Benji is not just my son’s dog—he is more mine than his.

Why am I telling you this story? Because fear is not the enemy. The enemy is the meaning we attach to it.

I was never truly afraid of dogs. I was afraid of the distorted, unexamined belief I had created. My fear had stolen years of joy, and when I finally broke through it, I discovered something beautiful on the other side.

And then, something even more powerful happened.

One evening, as I sat on the floor holding Benji in my arms, laughing, my son looked at me with wide eyes and said, "Mom, you are so brave! You were so scared of dogs, and now you love Benji!"

His words hit me like a wave. I had not only conquered my fear. I had shown my son what courage truly is. And in that moment, I realized that overcoming fear isn’t just about us. It’s about the people who witness our transformation and learn from it.

Now, let’s talk about public speaking.

How many moments of connection, of inspiration, of impact have you missed because of fear?

How many times have you silenced yourself, convinced that your voice wasn’t meant to be heard?

Public speaking, like my fear of dogs, is not inherently terrifying. It is our perception that makes it so. The trembling hands, the pounding heart, the dry mouth—these are not signs of danger; they are signs of energy waiting to be harnessed.

Had I not met Benji, had I not stepped through my fear, I would have never known the joy of his companionship. And had I not redefined my fear, I would have never unlocked a part of my life filled with warmth, love, and discovery.

The same is true for public speaking.

Imagine the exhilarating moments of impact you can create when you stop seeing fear as a wall and start seeing it as a doorway.

Imagine standing before an audience, feeling your heart pound—not out of fear, but out of excitement.

Imagine recognizing that those butterflies are not fear but energy, ready to be channeled into a powerful message.

Imagine breaking free from the limiting beliefs that have held back your voice and unlocking the presence, confidence, and power that have always been within you.

This isn’t just a theory. It’s lived truth. I once feared dogs. I once feared public speaking. And just as I broke free from my fear of dogs, I broke free from my fear of public speaking.

And here’s what I can tell you: the moment you step through fear, you don’t just overcome it—you transform.

On the other side is a life you’ve been keeping just out of reach—a life of freedom, courage, and connection.

For me, this realization wasn’t just a breakthrough. It was the missing piece of a lifelong quest for understanding "true presence".

And when I finally put that piece in place, everything changed. The fear that once silenced me became the fuel that ignited my voice. The doubt that once held me back became the fire that propelled me forward to my passion, purpose and destination. Today, I help others break free from the invisible limiting beliefs chains of public speaking fear, unlocking their voices and stepping into their full power.

So, the next time fear softly whispers in your ear before a speech or presentation, let it speak—but never let it control you.

Listen with curiosity, seeking the limiting belief that fuels it, and gently replace it with a belief rooted in growth that fuels your courage to move forward.

Remember, fear only has power if you allow it. And when you reclaim that power, something extraordinary unfolds: not just a world of mental freedom from what once held you back and limitless potential, but a world that mirrors the strength you’ve discovered within yourself.

And as you stand in your own light, you’ll realize that the world was never waiting for anyone else but this version of you.