By Shayna Kaufmann, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — Last June, I wrote a blog called From Fear to Faith. I shared a few “riskyish” moments from a vacation with my daughter on Madeira Island — driving a stick shift (on a very hilly island) for the first time in 40 years, hiking through a dark tunnel in ankle-deep puddles, and navigating fog so dense I couldn’t see a foot ahead of me. Each time, I consciously chose faith over fear and each time, it worked out. We would have missed out on some incredible experiences had I let fear run the show.
Barely a month later, faith and fear took on an entirely new meaning, when we received the shocking news that I have metastatic cancer. The word itself landed like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of us. I didn’t even register fear for days, maybe even weeks. We were too stunned, too heartbroken. But eventually, fear came swiftly: fear of loss of my life as I know it (and liked it), fear of the treatments (or worse, lack thereof), and a very real fear of an early death.
Fear is a natural response to anything that threatens our safety or sense of security. And it doesn’t have to be as extreme as a life-threatening diagnosis. Fear can arise when we face financial hardships, lose or change jobs, end or deepen a relationship, or let our children follow their own paths rather than ours. In those moments, we can almost feel our illusions of control disintegrate as we step into unchartered territory.
Being present to fear is necessary. It needs to be felt and acknowledged. Its existence isn’t the problem.
The problem is when we stay in fear. Fear is consuming, exhausting, and disempowering. It constricts us physically, clouds the mind, and leaves little space for anything else. When fearful thoughts take over, the body follows: stress rises, hope diminishes, and helplessness amplifies. It becomes an awful loop.
There are many antidotes to fear. None of them necessarily change our situation, but they can all shift our relationship to it, for the better. Here are a few strategies that have helped me when I feel locked in fear:
- Breathe.
When we’re scared, our fight-or-flight response kicks in, quickening our breath and heart rate. Pausing to take a few slow, deep breaths helps regulate our nervous system. Even more effective: count slowly to four on your in-breaths and out-breaths. When your attention is on counting, it gives you a reprieve from perseverating over your fear-inducing thoughts. - Get present.
Fear is often fueled by “what if” thoughts about the future, which may or may not happen. But the sensations of right now are real — the taste of your coffee or tea, the sound of birds outside, the beauty of clouds in the sky, the softness of a furry friend, a conversation with a good friend. Make the choice to notice and savor something positive that is actually happening in the present moment. - Ask: What can I control
Fear often comes from a loss of control. Taking stock of what you can influence can be grounding and empowering. When in a fear based-spiral, you can call a friend, take a walk, listen to uplifting music, meditate, or pray. These are all life-affirming and absolutely in your control. And appreciate that although you likely cannot control the fear-based situation, you have absolute choice over how you respond to it. - Keep (or find) the faith.
Faith has been my most powerful ally (after my wonderful husband) in my cancer journey. In the beginning, it was difficult to access. I was hijacked by fear, my bleak prognosis, and overwhelming helplessness. But something shifted over the weeks — perhaps because of the practices above. I’ve come to truly believe I can heal, and that belief is enormously empowering. I carry myself differently. I persevere through treatments. I am grateful for the overwhelming love and support that surround me. And, I do my best to fully, even when I am fearful.
Fear is inevitable. It is part of life. But when we let faith, breath, and presence walk beside fear, it softens. The path becomes gentler and fear stops running the show. For those of you struggling right now, I send you buckets of compassion and the invitation to try any of the above techniques. You never know what may help.
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Shayna Kaufmann is a clinical psychologist and a freelance columnist based in San Diego.