When Fear Takes the Wheel

In light of all that’s currently happening in our world (and honestly, what’s been happening for what feels like forever), I’ve been thinking about fear more than usual. Curious about things I don’t understand, I often find myself wondering why fear is so prevalent…and why the heck it holds so much power.

Many people much smarter than me have studied fear in depth, and I’m grateful for their work. It’s helped me see fear for what it really is - one of the most destructive forces against humanity. 

Fear is both invisible and invasive. It moves through us quietly, convincing us it’s keeping us safe, when in truth, it’s often keeping us small and trapped.

Fear disguises itself as caution or discernment, and as human beings wired for survival, we’re all susceptible to it. All of us. Even when those cautions aren’t grounded in reality, fear knows exactly how to make them feel true.

But underneath that disguise, fear does something deeply violating.

First, it blurs our vision and our ability to see clearly.

Then, it hardens our hearts.

When we’re in fear, the body follows suit: our breath shortens, our nervous system activates, and our focus narrows to what feels immediately threatening. In that state, we lose access to connection, trust, and clarity. We start building stories around our discomfort to feel safer or more in control, instead of sitting with the truth right in front of us. Fear has become such a familiar friend that we start to mistake it for wisdom - and if we don’t pause long enough to question it, it traps us in survival mode: reactive, defensive, disconnected.

And the worst part is this: it stops us from seeing each other.

We’re seeing this play out everywhere lately, in our country, in our communities, in our conversations..

It’s in the way people talk at one another instead of with one another.
It’s in the policies that divide rather than protect.
It’s in the exhaustion that comes when injustice feels relentless.

We’ve become so overcome by fear that we’ve shifted our attention to protecting ourselves, and in doing so, we forget to protect one another.

What I’ve learned (and continue to relearn) is that when we pause, breathe, and release the need to be right or safe, something powerful happens: clarity returns.

And with clarity comes compassion.

The kind that doesn’t turn away from injustice but faces it with steady, open eyes.
The kind that listens when it would be easier to argue.
The kind that recognizes the human being standing in front of us, even when it’s uncomfortable.

The injustices we’re witnessing in the United States right now are heartbreaking. They demand our attention, our voice, and our action. But they also ask for something quieter - to notice what’s driving us underneath it all. Because when fear leads, we will get nowhere.

So maybe the real work begins here: in our own awareness.

To notice when fear tries to run the show.
To pause before reacting.
To ask ourselves, What truth might I see more clearly if I let go of my fear, even for a moment?

If there’s one thing my own journey has taught me, it’s that clarity and compassion aren’t luxuries - they’re necessities for healing and peace.

For all of us. Every single one of us.

Because as the saying goes, none of us are free until we all are free.

And so I’ll leave you with this reminder from Nelson Mandela: “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.”