Fear isn’t always the dramatic, horror-movie jump scare.
Sometimes it’s quiet. Sneaky. Wearing leggings and holding a planner. Sometimes it sets up camp in your parenting, your body, your relationships… and then has the audacity to call itself “responsibility.”
And if you’re a cycle-breaking mom? Fear basically applies for a full-time position with overtime and benefits.
Because you don’t just worry about today. You worry about your kids being 27, sitting in therapy, and saying, “So anyway, my mom…” 😩 (Same fear, honestly.)
But here’s the problem:
We’ve been trained to treat discomfort like danger.
And it’s wrecking us.
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The sneaky way fear shows up
Fear doesn’t usually kick the door down and announce itself.
It slides in like:
- overthinking
- controlling everything because “someone has to”
- staying busy so you don’t have to feel anything
- pulling back the second something feels “off”
- believing, deep in your bones, that if you relax… everything will fall apart
Fear loves to pretend it’s being helpful.
It’ll whisper:
“If you don’t worry about this, you don’t care.”
“If you don’t stay on edge, you’ll miss something important.”
“If you don’t fix this immediately, you’ll ruin everything.”
“If you don’t worry about this, you don’t care.”
“If you don’t stay on edge, you’ll miss something important.”
“If you don’t fix this immediately, you’ll ruin everything.”
And notice how fear talks in absolutes:
always / never / everything / nothing
Because fear is not nuanced. Fear is a drama queen.
Quick science moment (don’t panic, I’ll keep it real)
Fear is part of your brain’s alarm system. It’s fast, protective, and honestly kind of… dumb in the way smoke alarms are dumb.
Like yes, thank you for screaming at me because I made toast.
A lot of fear responses come from the amygdala—the part of your brain that reacts before your thinking brain has time to assess what’s actually happening. So fear shows up first. Before context. Before clarity. Before logic.
Which means when fear hits, it’s not proof that you’re failing.
It’s proof that your brain is doing what it was designed to do: protect you.
But (and this is important)…
Fear was never meant to be your home
Fear is a signal. A messenger. A knock at the door.
It is data.
And data is useful.
But fear was never meant to be the place you live from—or parent from.
Because when fear becomes your “default setting,” everything feels urgent:
- Every decision feels life-or-death
- Every parenting moment feels fragile
- Every mistake feels like a permanent character flaw
And if you have trauma, anxiety, depression, or a spicy nervous system… fear gets even louder. Because your body learned (for real reasons) that safety might not be consistent.
Connection came first. Fear came later.
One of the most grounding reframes I’ve ever heard is this:
Before fear was fellowship. Before panic was presence.
Translation: humans are wired for connection before threat awareness.
Babies literally regulate through presence long before they understand “danger.” Belonging comes first in our design.
Fear gets loud when connection feels unstable.
And parenting? Oh parenting gives fear a whole career. Like, “Congrats, fear, you now have unlimited work.”
The lie: fear makes you a better mom
Fear tells you that being on edge is proof you love your kids.
But chronic fear-based parenting doesn’t actually improve outcomes.
What predicts secure attachment and resilience is not “perfect parenting” or “never messing up.”
It’s:
- presence
- emotional attunement
- repair
AKA: showing up, being real, and being willing to come back and fix what got messy.
Which, honestly? Is a MASSIVE exhale.
Because it means you don’t have to parent like you’re diffusing a bomb every day.
When fear is disguised as discomfort
This is the part that gets most of us.
Fear doesn’t always feel like fear.
Sometimes it feels like discomfort:
- the discomfort of setting a boundary
- the discomfort of letting your kid struggle a little
- the discomfort of being seen as imperfect
- the discomfort of not fixing everything immediately
- the discomfort of someone being disappointed in you
And because we’ve been conditioned to treat discomfort like danger, we respond like it’s a five-alarm fire:
“This feels awful. I can’t do this.”
“I need to fix it NOW.”
“I need to fix it NOW.”
“I need to get out of this feeling immediately.”
But hear me:
Discomfort is not danger.
It’s usually growth. Novelty. Pattern-breaking.
It’s your nervous system going, “Umm… we don’t usually do this,” not “We are dying.”
Distress tolerance is a real thing (and it matters)
There’s research around something called distress tolerance—basically your ability to feel discomfort without immediately trying to escape it.
And when people learn to stay with discomfort (instead of treating it like an emergency), emotional regulation and confidence increase.
Because your body learns:
“Oh. We can be uncomfortable and still be safe.”
That’s the whole game, friend.
Discomfort is often just the feeling of growth happening in real time.
A better question than “Is this fear true?”
A lot of people teach: “Ask yourself if the fear is true.”
And sure, sometimes that helps.
But sometimes your brain is like:
“Well… it could happen.” 😬
“Well… it could happen.” 😬
So the question I like better is:
What is the intent of this fear?
Because fear always has an agenda.
Try these:
- What is this fear trying to protect me from?
- What does it want me to do right now?
- What will it cost me if I let fear lead?
- Is this actual danger… or am I just uncomfortable?
And here’s the coolest part:
Naming and questioning emotions helps bring your thinking brain back online. Curiosity calms the alarm system because you’re not dismissing fear—you’re listening to it and then putting it back in its proper place.
Fear gets a seat at the table.
It does not sit at the head of the table.
What belonging actually does to your nervous system
Belonging doesn’t mean life is sunshine and daisies.
It means you’re not alone in the hard stuff.
It means your worth isn’t on the line every time you make a mistake.
It means you don’t have to earn your place.
And belonging—whether it’s with people you trust, a community, your faith, your inner world—literally lowers fear responses. It changes how your body experiences threat.
So when connection comes first, fear can exhale.
It can go back to being a messenger instead of a dictator.
If fear has been loud lately…
You’re not broken.
Your brain is doing what it learned to do.
Fear is just working overtime trying to problem-solve your way to safety.
And we’re allowed to gently remind it:
“Thanks. I hear you. You can sit over there. I’m driving.”
Because fear is not your home.
Presence is your home.
Connection is your home.
Belonging is your home.
A tiny, doable next step (for the mom who’s already maxed out)
Next time you feel that “I HAVE TO FIX THIS RIGHT NOW” energy, pause and try this:
Put your hand on your chest (or your stomach—wherever your body holds it) and say:
- “This is fear.”
- “Is this danger… or discomfort?”
- “What is this trying to protect me from?”
That’s it.
Not a 14-step routine. Not a perfect reframe.
Just a tiny interruption that tells your nervous system: we’re safe enough to get curious.
And if you’re someone who feels emotions in your body (tight chest, clenched jaw, shallow breathing) and you don’t know what to do with that—same. I made something for that exact moment: the Feel It To Heal It Guide. It’s for feeling what’s there without getting swallowed alive by it.
You don’t need to be less human to be a good mom.
You just need support that actually works when you’re activated.
And you’re already doing the brave thing—showing up.
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