I’ve been thinking about fear a lot lately.
My own, mostly. The kind that shows up when you’re doing something new — stepping into work that feels bigger, or different, or more visible than what you’ve done before. The kind that keeps asking: what if this doesn’t work?
And I’ve been sitting with that question long enough to ask a harder one underneath it: what does failure even mean?
Because when I look at what my days actually contain right now — the work I’m doing, the people I’m talking to, the problems I’m helping solve — I feel alive. Energized. Like I’m finally doing the thing I was supposed to be doing. And if that’s the landscape, what exactly am I afraid of losing?
I don’t have a clean answer. But I’ve noticed that naming the fear more precisely tends to shrink it.
I’ve also been watching something interesting happen on LinkedIn. People are sharing more. Not the polished highlights, but the real stuff — the pivots, the doubts, the things that didn’t go as planned. And I find myself genuinely moved by it. Not because vulnerability is trendy, but because authenticity speaks to me.
It got me thinking about how carefully we manage which version of ourselves lives on which platform. LinkedIn is professional. Instagram is more playful. Substack is reflective. We build these little compartments and arrange ourselves accordingly.
But here’s the thing: a quick Google search collapses all of it. We are, in the digital world, one person — visible across all of it to anyone who looks, not a series of segments.
Which means the question isn’t really where to be authentic. It’s whether you’re willing to be.
The Enneagram carousel I posted recently was partly about this. Every type has its own flavor of fear when it comes to telling the truth — about themselves, about their experience, about what it cost them to get where they are.
And what strikes me every time is how legitimate those fears are. They’re not weakness. They’re information.
The question worth asking isn’t how do I get rid of the fear. It’s what is this fear actually telling me, and is it still true?
That’s where I’m starting. Maybe you are too.
P.S. — If you found your way here and you’re sitting on a story of your own, I’d love to have you join the May 20th workshop built around the questions that come BEFORE the book—the ones that percolate in the mind of anyone who feels called to share a story, or who has been told by someone that they should write one.
I do love the idea of naming the fear - it often puts it into perspective for me. Thank you for what you write about authenticity, it is something I think about quite a bit. Great post Valerie.
I LOVE the reframe that fear isn’t weakness, it’s information. That makes it so much easier to look fear in the face and try to understand it. Thanks for this!