The Fear That Almost Stopped Me

How I learned to move forward when every voice (especially my own) told me not to

We all have Big Dreams.

Some live quietly inside us for years, surfacing every so often before we push them back down. A career leap. A creative project. A bold move that feels too big or too risky. For me, one of those big dreams was travel. I had always wanted to live abroad and travel widely to experience other cultures, landscapes, and ways of life. I also really wanted to explore Africa in particular, to see the places and meet the people I’d only known through stories and colleagues.

But for years, I convinced myself it wasn’t possible. I told myself I couldn’t afford it. I had a mortgage, a demanding job, a cat I adored, friends who relied on me. And there were the external voices too from my family, friends, husband, and coworkers…each offering their own version of doubt:
“It’s dangerous.”
“You’ll get lonely. And I’ll miss you too much.”
“You’ll regret it.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I agreed with them.

My Breaking Point

Then, a few years ago, everything changed. My marriage ended. I was recovering from shoulder surgery and deep burnout. The life that had once felt predictable and safe now felt impossible to continue.

So, when my same travel dream resurfaced—”maybe you can go now”—it brought the same familiar chorus of doubt with it.

The same scripts and phrases I heard from others so many times played in my head on repeat:
You can’t afford it. You can’t just leave. It’s not practical. You’ll be too lonely. It’s too dangerous. You’re not the kind of person who does things like this.

And just like before, I quickly believed those voices and agreed with them.

They felt protective, reasonable, adult. It was easy to believe them. But underneath that logic, I think I was starting to realize there was something else: fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failing. Fear of discovering I wasn’t as brave or capable as I wanted to be.

For a while, I let those fears win. Then one day, I paused and asked myself a question that eventually changed everything:

“What if every single barrier disappeared?”

What if I actually had the money, the time, the support, the courage…then, would I actually go? When I imagined that reality, I felt two things at once: a surge of excitement and a deep, visceral terror. That mix of emotions showed me what I’d really been avoiding. The problem wasn’t the circumstances. The problem was the story I’d been telling myself about what I was and wasn’t capable of.

So, instead of dismissing the fear (which I am typically very good at doing), I sat with it. And it told me I was scared of being alone. Scared of failing. Scared of proving (once and for all), that I wasn’t strong enough to do something extraordinary.

After a lot of sitting, finally (and gently), I told it, and that inner scared part of myself: I see you and hear you. But I’m going anyway.

That was the moment everything shifted. Not because the fear disappeared, but because I had decided to stop letting it make the decisions.

The Leap

So, I did it. I eliminated the barriers. I sold nearly everything I owned, packed what I thought I’d need for six months into a backpack and a carry-on, and booked a one-way ticket to Cape Town. When I did, I cried. Crying in grief for all the times I had let my fear dictate how I had lived my life, and crying because what if any of those many fears were grounded in reality.

But, those initial six months ended up stretching into eight, taking me across twenty-five countries in Africa and the Middle East. I saw lions take down prey on the Serengeti, summited Mount Kilimanjaro, lived with a hunter-gatherer community in South Sudan, and watched falconers in Qatar.

Each adventure was truly extraordinary, but what changed me most weren’t the moments of awe, but the constant negotiation with fear. Every border crossing, every new language, every time I was sick and alone, every unfamiliar city demanded the same question:

“Will you let uncertainty stop you, or will you keep going?”

Over and over again, I chose to keep going. And every experience I had pushed my fear frontier a little further and gave me new pieces of information about myself and the world that, looking back, I could see armed me with new boundaries and tools I could use to navigate potentially fear-inducing situations.

What I Learned

My fear never disappeared (and, I actually started and continue to be on Prozac to help further mitigate my anxiety). But, I have stopped just letting it be in charge of me and my decisions.

In those 8 months I saw that more I stepped forward despite my fears, the more it softened…or perhaps underwent a true reality check? While it started out almost paralyzing me (I’ll admit that it kept me in my initial Cape Town hotel room for far too many hours), it shifted into being my humbling teacher (apparently, I can navigate situations with police in the DRC in order to spend an afternoon with wild gorillas).

I learned that fear doesn’t always mean stop. Sometimes it’s just my body’s way of saying, this matters; pay attention.

Your Turn

Your dream may not be to sell all your belongings and travel across continents. But I know that you too have a Big Dream. Maybe it’s to start something of your own, or finally speak out in a room where your voice has been quiet, or take your a leap out of a mediocre job, or even a leap out of a ‘dream job’ that you’re realizing isn’t actually your dream…but you’re not sure what is. I hope you can take a moment to quietly ask yourself the same question I did:

“If every obstacle were gone and if it were truly possible…would I actually do it?”

If the answer is yes (even if it’s a very quiet or trembling yes), that’s enough to start. Because I learned that sometimes, the most transformative journeys don’t begin with confidence. They actually begin with fear…and the decision to take one small step forward anyway.