When we talk about fear, we often think of clear, tangible moments—things we can see, touch, or sense as threats. We also recognise fear showing up in invisible ways, imagined from ‘what ifs’ and possibilities that may never happen at all.
What we discuss far less is how fear leads to avoidance, not the obvious kind where we consciously flee from what frightens us, but the subtle avoidance that happens when fear isn’t even acknowledged as the driving emotion.
Fear hides beneath coping mechanisms we don’t recognise, revealing itself only through our commitment to avoid. Often, we don’t even know we’re doing it. Like when I realised I don’t ask for help because I’m terrified of disappointing people. I fear tainting someone’s view of me, so I avoid anything that could remotely lead to that outcome.
This realisation struck me today during therapy. When my therapist asked what it would look like to ask for help from a team member, I couldn’t avoid answering, even though I was filled with anxiety hearing her ask it. After a brief moment of consideration, I told her how easy it would be and explained exactly how I would do it.
We both laughed at how simple it was. I had been so clear in my answer that it felt strange to imagine that fear was ever part of the thinking. She had prepared for a lengthy back-and-forth to dismantle my perceived barriers, but there weren’t any barriers, just simple avoidance masquerading as complexity.
I wonder how many of us are doing this in different areas of our lives.
In that moment, I understood how often fear causes me to avoid the very things that would help me. The alternative—sacrificing too much and overgiving completely—has far more detrimental consequences than the imagined risk of asking for support.
Working through fear requires dismantling learned patterns of avoidance. Like asking for help in a moment you know you never would. It means facing that avoidance in tolerable ways, breaking through ‘barriers’ that exist only in our minds.
The irony is profound: we exhaust ourselves avoiding help that we already know how to ask for, protecting ourselves from disappointment that exists more in our imagination than in reality.
Tomorrow, I’m going to ask my team member for help with something small. Not because I have to, but because I want to practice trusting that the barrier was never really there.
