Firing Fear

Metaphorical Narrative

Fear once strutted around like a hired guard at the door of your life. It wore a uniform of authority, carrying a clipboard full of threats: “What if they laugh at you? What if you fail? What if you’re not enough?”

But you notice something. This guard has no weapon. It only whispers scripts. And you realize—why am I paying this fool to block my own entrance?

So you draw the line. First, a sovereign strike: “I do not fear.” The uniform tears. The clipboard crumbles. The lie is cut.

Then you fire it. You hand Fear a dismissal letter, final and sealed: “Your contract is over. Get out.” The guard packs nothing—because it never had anything real to begin with. And the doorway is suddenly yours again.

Core Insight

Fear survives when you treat it as necessary. The declaration “I do not fear” slices through the illusion—it shows you that fear never had real power. But if you stop there, you’re still negotiating with its presence.

The second step is to fire fear—strip it of its job, its purpose, its false paycheck. Once dismissed, it can’t report for duty again. What’s left is movement, not bravery. Just living.

Saturday Experiment

1. Catch the moment fear knocks—tight chest, racing mind, hesitation.
2. Strike: Say aloud, “I do not fear.” That’s the cut.
3. Fire: Follow with, “You’re dismissed. Your contract is over.” That’s the release.

Notice how the body shifts when you don’t just resist fear—you remove its employment entirely.

Sunday Reflection

Write in third person:

• What happened when they used the cut and the firing together?
• How did their body respond once fear was fired?
• In what spaces of life do they still secretly keep fear on the payroll?
• What opens up when they stop paying for that guard at the door?