Like many others, I’m used to talking to myself sub-optimally. Talking myself down and attacking myself for anything that the judge within me deems negative. The blows come quick and harsh and most problematically, they build up.

Mental self-attacks can seem so normal that we don’t even bother to question them. We assume it helps us motivate ourselves to do better. After all, if we’re not holding ourselves accountable for what we didn’t do right, who will? And by berating ourselves, at least we show we realized we didn’t live up to our potential.

But does it work as a motivator? Does it help us get more done and properly?

Even if it does, the reason might be that it’s only because we’re afraid of our own harsh judgment and beating. And if I’ve learned anything from avoiding feared future situations, which I’ve done a lot, it is that fear-based avoidance does not lead you where you want to go.

Could there be another way to approach our shortcomings? Something else we could do when we realized we’ve failed, didn’t get done what we had set out to do, or were not the exemplar we strived to be for ourselves and others?

As an answer to this, I’ve recently turned to practicing self-compassion by incorporating it more often in my daily meditation sessions (e.g. there’s the “Self-Compassion” course with 10 guided sessions in the Headspace app that I’ve gone through several times) and by reading more about it.

I’m currently midway into two books on the topic. One by a meditation teacher with decades of practice, and the other written by a psychologist and eminent researcher on the topic:

• This Difficult Thing of Being Human: The Art of Self-Compassion by Bodhipaksa

• Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself by Kristin Neff

The basic idea of self-compassion is simple, at least the theoretical description is. As with anything helpful skill, it takes a lot of practice.

But let’s start with the description. According to Kristin Neff, there are three components to self-compassion:

1. Self-kindness: Treat yourself as you would a good friend. Be kind, warm, and patient.

2. Common Humanity: Realize that suffering and pain are part of our human existence. We share this with everyone around us and with everyone who came before us.

3. Mindfulness: Practice noticing thoughts and feelings as they arise, non-judgementally.

In short: Instead of berating ourselves with our own thoughts, we (1) train to notice and accept what we feel and think, especially accept that we’re frequently in pain and suffer, not because there’s something wrong with us, but (2) because we are humans, and that we then (3) are kind to ourselves, as we would be to a loved one.

For most of the hour I was typing and editing the piece, I wasn’t sure whether I would finally do it or back out in the end.

Back in school, I dreaded reading aloud to the class. In some classes, we would go through one-by-one, and each of us would have to read a page or two from the book we were reading. It was simpler in my native German, more challenging in English, and worst in my least favorite subject, French. But the topic or language wasn’t what made it difficult. Reading to others, stumbling over pronunciation here or there, or skipping a line or word or whatever—making mistakes in general—was terrifying. Because it was ‘public’, because the others might laugh and think unfavorably of me because of it. (Whether they actually would was not so relevant.)

But that was just reading something a stranger wrote. The fear then was only on my performance in the moment. What was more terrifying was to read something I wrote, something I created.

Fast forward a few years to about two weeks ago.

By now, I wouldn’t worry so much anymore about reading something from a book to others. Sure, when reading something in English, I would still mispronounce things terribly and my accent doesn’t make it as smooth as I would hope for, but the nervousness or anxiety would be manageable.

Even reading something I just wrote myself might not be as much of a problem.
Except… Except when it’s personal, when it makes me feel vulnerable, when it dives beyond the surface level or professional writing (e.g., scientific publications).

In that case, reading to others is still daunting. I always wondered how published writers can do book readings, why they would do that to themselves.

And yet, about two weeks ago, I did it.
Not on a stage, not to a large crowd, but I did it.

At the end of an online Writing Circle event, organized by the wonderful people at foster.co, I read aloud what I had written during the one-hour writing session.1 It was reasonably personal and deep, enough to scare me to do it. And I only did it because I know it helps to, well, face my fears.

Sure, there were only three listeners.
Sure, it was a Zoom meeting.
Sure, they all live on the other side of the planet.
And sure, they’re a friendly bunch, as well-meaning and supportive as any writer could ever hope for.

Still, such activities fuel my nightmares.

But I did it. And the others reacted more positively than I could ever have dreamed.

Thanks , Nadia, and for listening, for giving me the space to share and the encouragement to continue.

If nothing might happen, I’d feel I’ve done it all for naught. What a waste of time and energy and worries and vulnerability if it doesn’t improve my life. What a waste of life. Or, what if it even changed my life for the worse? What if others get at me about it, ridicule or mock me for it?

STOP! Let’s dig into that fear. What’s the likely scenario here? What does my data tell me, now that I've had a few dozen articles up on Medium for about five or six years? Not a single person I know personally or have met on the street has EVER come to me and talked to me about ANY of the posts whatsoever. The only people who have are those I told about a specific article. So much about the spotlight effect.

Ah, but you see things are different if I write about my fears. Because… Because everyone else is out there googling “Anxious Angelo”, or “Obviously socially anxious guy in his thirties whose name I forgot”. And then they will find all my articles. They will then definitely read them and confront me about them.

Sure, not a stretch at all.

Especially, what is there to confront me about when I write honestly about how things are, for me? If anything, it might be so boring that they fall asleep in their gaming chair before finishing the post. (Win for me?)

What about my fear of publishing anything about my fears? Sure, I felt reasonably comfortable writing about self-improvement through developing useful habits, and practicing mindfulness in everyday life. You know, the kind of topics a cruise ship full of people write ‘new’ articles about every day, not to mention that ChatGPT churns out another ten thousand during the first coffee break of those writers.

I realized that writing about those topics feels empty and has much less significance than I initially thought. Not even thinking about the lack of impact on others.

Still, it was safe to publish that stuff.

No one would ever walk up to me and shout out: “Hey, aren’t you that idiot who wrote about being more mindful the other day? Made me want to punch you in the face!”

Not in my mind. I mean, haven’t we all discovered mindfulness for ourselves over the last decade or two? At least we read about it over and over and over again, right?2

It felt safe to publish something mundane like that—safe and meaningless.

But focusing on safety alone will not get me anywhere.

Now, I’m stuck with a tougher subject. Still a universal one and related to mindfulness and self-help, but with a darker undertone and with vulnerability woven into it: FEAR.

I want to write about fear, because I might write it away. No, that’s not true.
I want to write about fear, because I fear it. Better.
I want to write about fear, because I grow when I do.
Because I can practice writing vulnerably by facing fear.
Because the only auspicious way to deal with fear is to notice it, to feel it, to approach it, and, most crucially, to act despite it.

And maybe, if I face my fears repeatedly, I might just unleash potential I don’t want to get buried with.

Don’t see fear as a stop sign. See it as a sign post. A pole star, a sparring partner.

That’s the essential idea behind FEARWARD. Instead of avoiding what we fear, we should move towards it. In this light, I try to notice fear and then reflect what it could lead me to, what it is pointing at.

I’ve meditated on this idea a few weeks ago and thought about concise ways to describe it and keep it in mind as a mantra. I’ve then also written about that and my aim to focus on the virtue of courage this year in my first public post in the Heroic app and mentioned that in a post here before.

Repetition for what we want to learn an practice is crucial. Repeatingg, rehearsing, meditating on what we want to practice, over and over again. Just as Marcus Aurelius did with Stoic principles. So, here we go again:

Fear/Discomfort/Pain as a pole star, a sign post, a sparring partner.

We know that growth happens outside of our comfort zone. Thus, we must seek what brings us outside of our comfort zone. We'll probably get there when we look where our fears and anxieties point at, what they try to make us avoid. What they want to make us ignore or tell ourselves it isn't important after all or worth it.

But it is important. It is worth trying. And we know that.
Not acting, avoiding, being lazy is just more comfortable in the moment.

Ryan Holiday also brought this idea up in Courage is Calling, where he writes:

“Our fears point us, like a self-indicting arrow, in the direction of the right thing to do. One part of us knows what we ought to do, but the other part reminds us of the inevitable consequences. Fear alerts us to danger, but also to opportunity. If it wasn’t scary, everyone would do it. If it was easy, there wouldn’t be any growth in it.” - Ryan Holiday in Courage is Calling (p. 65)

And Tim Ferris said in his 2008 TED talk:

“Fear is an indicator. Sometimes it shows you what you shouldn’t do. More often than not it shows you exactly what you should do. And the best results that I've had in life, the most enjoyable times, have all been from asking a simple question: What’s the worst that can happen?” - Tim Ferris, TED talk

This is to walking towards where the signs and arrows of fear are pointing at.

Yes, we know that’s not going to happen. Yes, we know that’s not even the goal and that we don’t want to strive for it.

Still, bear with me and imagine what if…

What if … you approached that person?

What if … you made that phone call?

What if … you took this opportunity?

What if … you just tried?

What if … you were silly and vulnerable and authentic and honest and helpful and real?

If you were really alive.

What would you do?

What would become possible?

What would your life look like?

Answer: We don’t know. We can’t ever know. But we can imagine. For one situation and then another one and the next. Despite the fact that fear won’t ever just be gone and done with, we can always act despite its presence. Fear is not an unclimbable mountain, it’s a hurdle we can jump over. In every situation that we face it. Sure, it takes some stretching, some getting out of our comfort zone. But we know it’s possible. We know avoidance is an active choice to feel in control and comfortable and cozy in our fluffy comfort zone.

We can change.

Now and now and now.

We can act despite fear.

It’s our choice.

And remember: with every choice a moment passes by irretrievably.

A moment avoided or a moment lived.

Avoid or live — it’s your choice.

I signed up for their coaching class XX in late December, which is scheduled to start next week and which will lead through their 300 days mastery program. In that program, we’ll nurture the ancient virtues (e.g. in Stoic philosophy) of wisdom, courage, self-discipline/self-mastery, judgment/love, as well as five additional virtues science (especially positive psychology) showed help us to flourish as human beings, namely hope, curiosity, zest, gratitude, and love.

Fear and anxiety had a huge impact on my life, how I lived it, what I did and didn’t do. It is thus obvious that courage is the one virtue that harbors the largest potential for improvement for me.

Courage as in acting despite fear. Not getting rid of fear and anxiety and being happy ever after. But to act in the presence of fear.

Here is the post I wrote in the app yesterday:

I called it a ‘tiny act of courage’ and I want to look out for, plan, and do such acts every day now. Make it a habit. And I’ll document it here.

I write about this topic, because first, I fear it, and second, it holds the greatest potential for growth in my life. And since the most personal might be the most universal, if we follow the words of eminent psychologist Carl R. Rogers, it might hold some potential for your life, too.

Fear, anxiety, and worries are long-time companions of mine. That gives me an insider perspective. But they’re not just my companions. Most people are afraid often and of a multitude of things. Negative thoughts spin around in our heads. Our minds wander off the here and now and ponder past events or play simulations of our future.

There are more and less obvious fears and some are more widely accepted or expected than others. On one side we have existential threats and terrible tragedies, the fabric of human suffering and trauma. Cancer, losing a loved one, war, or death. On the other side there are trifles, everyday worries that hold our minds hostage despite their negligibility. But regardless of their seeming significance, they’re all equally real in our mind. It’s easy to judge someone else’s fear. It’s just a little spider. And much more difficult to acknowledge it honestly.

Fears small and big

There are more and less obvious fears and some are more widely accepted or expected than others. On one side we have existential threats and terrible tragedies, the fabric of human suffering and trauma. Cancer, losing a loved one, war, or death. On the other side, there are trifles, everyday worries that hold our minds hostage despite their negligibility. But regardless of their seeming significance, they’re all equally real in our minds. It’s easy to judge someone else’s fear. It’s just a little spider. And much more difficult to acknowledge it honestly.

In my case, social anxiety is at the forefront. It follows me whenever I meet new people, attend social gatherings, date, talk to strangers, colleagues, bosses, and even family and friends. I do most of these things much less than the average person. 

 “Courage isn’t charging into a machine gun nest. Courage is not caring what other people think.”— Naval Ravikant

And yet, we so often do care about what others might think. As social creatures, we evolved to care about what those around us might think of us because we depend on them; we need other people to survive. 

The only way out is through

I learned that the only way out is through, that avoiding leads us further away from growth and change. Each time we avoid, we’re running ourselves deeper and deeper into the ground and changing course becomes increasingly difficult. 

Instead, we need to face our fears, move towards them, experience them repeatedly, inoculate ourselves. Susan Jeffers titled her book in the words of a helpful mantra: Feel the fear and do it anyway.

Despite this knowledge, I’ve mostly experienced fear and then simply avoided. No tackling. I want to do that here out in the open. Learn, experience, grow. With every post and every reader, I move towards fear. The fear of rejection, the fear of being an impostor, the fear of wasting my time and that of others.

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