We spend so much time projecting this view of ourselves. Strong. Independent. Reliable. Resilient. That’s who we want the world to see. That’s who we really want to be.
But now and then, life throws you into a different situation. An unexpected setback. A disease that came out of nowhere. A loss that leaves a hole in your heart. An event or situation where even that best version of you can’t thrive.
And who are you in those moments?
Over the last five years, we have been in a very difficult adoption process. For the first time in my life, I had to deal with the social services industry. And everything I thought I knew about social systems has been challenged. Everything I knew about conflict resolution. About trauma. About growth.
The child welfare system is a fog machine. Nothing is clear. Nothing is logical. You play a blind game of cards where the bets keep going up and the dealer keeps changing the rules.
People say our environment shapes us. So what shape do you take when the environment removes your freedom, your sense of safety, your faith in systems, and your belief in logic? When your words are always twisted and the fog consumes everything? When there’s no accountability or transparency?
What shape do you take when everything that made you who you are is ineffective? When you can’t reason, you can’t be honest, you can’t trust? When you are scared for yourself and for others?
I spent most of the last five years feeling scared. Because every logical thing and reasonable approach I took led to nothing. And when you try everything with no resolution, you stop believing that you can make it through.
And being scared showed me another version of me. A version I didn’t know I could be. A version I honestly don’t want to accept.
When I’m scared, I am powerless.
Voiceless.
Vulnerable.
I am weak.
Inconsistent.
Unreliable.
I lose trust in myself and in others.
And I feel like nothing will ever work again.
When I’m scared,
I can’t see the beauty in the world
because I’m here watching the danger.
I can’t move forward.
I freeze.
I fawn.
I shrink into safe, dark corners where the world won’t find me. Hoping that if I hold my breath and stay quiet, the hurt won’t hit me.
When I’m scared, I give up on life.
On dreaming.
On moving.
It feels too hard.
Too pointless.
But I’m not just that scared part. I’m not one or the other. Both parts exist in me. Both are things I experience.
I can be that strong, resilient person. And I can be the person crying at night. I can hold my own and type my words for the world to see, while also hesitating to open my mouth in a meeting.
It’s not about being one thing or the other. It’s about loving that part of you that forms in the worst environments. Understanding that the weak, fragile version of me is just trying to survive.
And there’s space for both of us to make it out of here.
I don’t like who I am when I am scared. But she’s not done growing yet. She’s not done fighting. She’s just learning how to be brave when the world feels scary.
I thought a lot about sharing or not sharing this piece. Because for years this part of me was hidden. But I hope by sharing this unedited piece, I help other frightened parts feel seen. And other scared people feel safe to show their scared pieces.
You don’t need to hide until the fear goes away.
