Facing and Pushing Through Fear

Fear. Every one of us experiences it. It shows up in every part of our lives sometimes as a slight nervousness, other times as something deeply paralyzing. One thing is certain: we can never escape it.

For some, fear is fuel. It pushes us past limitations that might otherwise hold us back. For others, it does the opposite. It stops us in our tracks and prevents us from moving forward.

In our lives and work, now more than ever, we are being asked to face it more often. Because in a world of constant change, uncertainty is no longer an exception. It’s a constant.

As humans, we crave rhythm, predictability, and stability. But when life blindsides you—as it did for me—learning how to navigate fear in the face of the unknown becomes the only way through.

When Fear Takes Over

As my condition worsened over time, my ability to ground myself and find my bearings began to fade.

The feelings of dread became constant because nothing stayed the same. The worst moments crept in when I least expected them.

For several months, I was jolted awake from sleep—hit with a dropping sensation in my stomach, followed by chest tightness and tingling sensations (almost like internal vibrations or pulsing) that wouldn’t stop.

It felt like anxiety barreling out of nowhere. As if everything I could possibly worry about hit me all at once.

Over time, fear became a flywheel in the worst way. It shaped how I moved through my day, impacted my work (which I eventually had to step away from), and ultimately reshaped my life.

That’s when I realized: fear doesn’t just live in the mind. It shows up mentally, socially, and physically.

Mentally: Every decision became paralyzing. I was so worried about making the wrong choice that I made almost none.

Socially: Even familiar interactions triggered anxiety. The confident, outgoing version of me was replaced by someone withdrawn and on edge.

Physically: A racing heart. Tight chest. Forearms that felt like they were on fire, with pins prickling at the same time.

One of the hardest parts was losing my internal gauge. While at times I could tell what fears were rational vs. irrational, I still couldn’t stop catastrophizing. Long COVID left me operating almost entirely from an emotional brain.

I was stuck in a loop.

What Fear Looked Like from the Outside

What I saw in Connie…

It was clear to me that Connie did not feel grounded or confident as the mysterious and changing symptoms of Long COVID continued to challenge her.

And yet, I was consistently impressed by how she showed up to our weekly virtual meetings, despite the high degree of uncertainty she was living with every day.

She was acutely aware that she was “not herself,” often expressing astonishment at how limited her life had become. At the same time, she was seeking collegial connection, wanting to find ways for us to work together that would be professionally beneficial to both of us. Her intentions were clear.

From my perspective, I was “all in” to see how we could support each other leveraging our individual strengths while allowing for flexibility around Connie’s health.

In our conversations, Connie would share updates on her experience and then describe the disconnection she felt between her physical, emotional, and intellectual states. Talking through it was clearly an important part of how she was processing what was happening.

At times, her words carried exasperation and fear especially around whether she would return to her “old self.” Her demeanor would shift between flatness and emotion depending on the day.

Her stamina fluctuated, and there were times she needed to cancel simply to rest.

And yet, even with all of this, her self-awareness stood out to me. It gave me a sense that all was not lost.

As I knew her previously, Connie’s direct, driven, and ambitious nature would still surface on better days. She had a clear desire to reengage with the business world, even while feeling disconnected from herself and others.

What stood out most was her willingness to keep pushing through uncertainty, fear, and vulnerability in order to hold onto some continuity with her previous life. That effort was both palpable and admirable.

I did not experience Connie as someone surrendering to being stuck. I saw someone trying steadily, imperfectly to find her way back.

And that made me want to continue supporting her in whatever ways I could.

How Fear Shows Up More Broadly

From a coaching lens, I often see fear show up in ways that are both subtle and deeply human.

In my experience, what Connie was navigating is not unique. Fear often shows up in subtle ways, especially in professional settings.

It can look like hesitation where there was once decisiveness, or second-guessing choices that used to feel intuitive. Sometimes it shows up as pulling back from opportunities, conversations, or visibility.

On a personal level, fear can create a sense of disconnection from ourselves, from others, and from what once felt familiar.

At its core, fear is often pointing to something that feels at risk—identity, competence, or control.

And while the instinct is often to push it away, there is real value in becoming curious about it: understanding what it is signaling, and then choosing over time how we want to respond.

Because fear is not just something we experience internally. It shapes how we show up in our lives, our work, and our decisions, often more than we realize.

Redefining Fear: From Foe to Forward Motion

“Just chill” has never been my default. I’m someone who is wired to do, to move, to make things happen.

So learning how to slow down, to be present, to shift from a state of distress to even a moment of calm felt impossible.

But I knew I had to find a way to anchor myself again. I just didn’t know what that would look like.

For someone who had always been strong at planning, organizing, and managing complexity, this felt completely foreign. I had to relearn something that once felt innate.

So I went back, back into my own experiences to see if there was anything I could draw from.

I thought about when I had my first son. That newborn phase: sleep deprived, disoriented, not even knowing what day or time it was.

What helped then was something simple: a basic structure. A loose schedule. A way to map the day, no matter how small or mundane.

So I tried that again.

A walk outside. Checking an email. Playing Wordle. Small, simple actions—just to do something.

That’s when I realized: traction had to be redefined. Progress wasn’t about big moves forward. It was about small, intentional actions that aligned what I felt internally with what I could manage externally.

The way I approached goals had to fundamentally shift. They had to meet me where I was, not where I wanted to be.

Even when I couldn’t feel progress, others could see it.

And that’s when I had to start trusting others to help me distinguish what was real and what was fear talking. I needed to rely on others to get me out of my own head. 

I also had to believe that what was lost could be found again and maybe it would be found in a different form. 

Tammy's Perspective

What I saw in Connie, even in moments when she felt disconnected from herself and uncertain about her direction, was a deep determination to find answers. That part of her—the resolute, driven part—was still there, even if it wasn’t always accessible to her in the same way. And I would often reflect that back to her, because from the outside, it remained visible.

Over time, what emerged in our conversations were more of those “glass-half-full” moments. In coaching, we often talk about reframing: helping someone look at their experience through a slightly different lens so it becomes less fixed, less absolute, and more workable.

Reframing only really works in the context of trust. There has to be a sense of safety first. Not safety in the sense that everything is okay, but safety in the sense that: you can say what’s true here, and we’re not going to rush past it or try to fix it too quickly.

That begins with meeting someone exactly where they are, without trying to move them forward before they are ready.

From there, there are a few key approaches I often come back to when fear and uncertainty are present:

1. Reclaiming a sense of control

When things feel out of control, I often encourage people to slow things down and separate what is within their control, what they can influence, and what is outside of it entirely. That simple distinction can reduce a lot of internal noise and help create a sense of footing again.

2. Expanding perspective (when fear is narrowing it)

Fear tends to shrink what feels possible. So I’ll often gently invite questions like: What do I want instead? What might that look like in even a small way? Who or what could support me right now? This isn’t about solving everything. It’s about reopening possibility without overwhelm.

3. Strengthening connection

Fear is inherently isolating. Having even a small circle of trusted people to think with, talk with, and stay grounded alongside can make a meaningful difference. I often suggest at least two people because one perspective can ground you, but more than one helps you avoid getting stuck in a single story.

Therapists or coaches can be part of that support system too, especially when there is already trust in place. And if not, starting with people you already know and trust is often the most accessible first step.

Another often overlooked form of support is journaling. Regular journaling about your thoughts can help release the angst that builds internally, while also creating space for new ideas and next steps to emerge. It becomes a way of getting things out of your head so you can begin to see them more clearly and sometimes shift from feeling stuck to noticing small paths forward.

These aren’t rigid steps as much as they are places to begin—small openings that can help when things feel overwhelming or unclear. From there, reflection becomes a way to make them personal.

REFLECTIVE QUESTIONS

• What feels most uncertain right now and what part of this is actually within my control?
• Where might fear be shaping or narrowing how I’m seeing this situation?
• What is one small, manageable step I could take today?
• Who are the people I trust enough to help me think this through more clearly?
• What would it look like to meet myself where I am, instead of where I think I should be?
• If I zoom out slightly, what might still be possible here even if it looks different than before?

Building a Cadence That Carries You Though Fear

Fear doesn’t disappear. It evolves. And so do we.

What we’ve both seen, while through different lenses, is that moving through fear isn’t about dramatic breakthroughs. It’s about building a cadence.

For me (Connie), that meant redefining progress into something smaller and more human. For me (Tammy), it meant reinforcing that even in uncertainty, there are always footholds—control, perspective, and connection.

Together, what became clear is this:

• You don’t move through fear alone.
• You don’t move through it all at once.
• And you don’t need to have it all figured out to begin.

Start small. Stay connected. Trust what others can see in you when you can’t.

And create a rhythm that allows you to keep going.