Fear is a funny thing

A lesson I am learning from being a father.

I decided to sit in my son’s room as I write this entry because I find it so ironic how often I find myself teaching my firstborn not to be afraid. I remember when he started kindergarten—his first time away from the familiar comfort of home. His parents were his safe space, and this new environment, filled with unfamiliar faces and unknown children, seemed daunting and terrifying to him.

As I dropped him off, I tried to reassure him: “It’s okay. You’ll be fine. I’ll be back to pick you up in just three hours.” But let’s be honest—that didn’t make it easier. He still cried and begged me to stay.

The funny thing? After I left, he conquered his fear. By the time I returned, I always found him totally comfortable and beaming with happiness. This routine continued for two full weeks until he realized that school wasn’t scary at all—it was actually a place for fun and friends. Now, he wakes up excited to go.

So, why am I sharing this story?

My son is almost three years old. I’m 35. You’d think that with all the years I’ve lived and the experiences I’ve had facing my fears, I’d be a pro at handling them by now. But no. I’m definitely nowhere close.

Even at this “fine age,” I still find myself staring down fears that stop me in my tracks. Most of the time, these fears aren’t nearly as big as my mind makes them seem. But I’m good at believing my mind. You’d think saying something like, “It’s okay, Osse. You’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as you think,” would work. But no—it doesn’t.

More often than not, I fall into this cycle: fear, then procrastination. It’s become a habit, even though deep down I know I’m capable of conquering anything that’s placed in front of me.

So, what’s helped me break free from this cycle?

Honestly—writing.

Writing has become a powerful tool for me. It helps me see situations more clearly, navigate creative blocks, and shorten the time I spend feeling paralyzed. When I write, I give my thoughts a voice. I no longer internalize the fear—I bring it out into the open, and in doing so, I shrink it down to a manageable size.

This isn’t some brand-new revelation. I’ve read about it in countless books and heard the advice in numerous videos. But sometimes, I simply forget to do it. And when I forget, that sneaky little voice called fear grabs the opportunity to take over my mind.

So, this entry is a reminder—to me & you.

A reminder to voice what’s in your head. Write it down. Just like when I kneel beside my son to comfort him before he walks into class, writing is my way of comforting my mind. It keeps me from diving deep into toxic thought patterns.

Fear might show up, but we don’t have to let it stay.