Original Advice

DO: Name the fear before it names you.

Drag Fear Into Fluorescent Light

Uncomfortable truth: the fear already uses your name. It makes your pulse spike at every unsent text, every mirror, every number in the bank app. It chooses outfits, lovers, deadlines, exits. If you don’t label it, it labels you: Coward. Control freak. Ghost. Stop letting it stage-manage your entrances. Point at it. Call it by its government name. Watch the drama shrink two sizes.

Names turn fog into form. When you say, I fear rejection, you stop wrestling smoke and start wrestling a door with a lock. Locks can be picked. Plans can be made. Vague dread breeds melodrama; specifics kill it. Put parameters around the monster. Scope. Cost. Worst-case. Best-case. Then choose. Fear hates options. You love strategy. Use that.

Cosmic Context

You are fixed water: containment with undertow. Mars and Pluto arm you to cut the rot and light the cave.

Action

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Write the fear in ink; say it aloud twice.

You are allowed to be dramatic about truth, not dread.