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I don't think I used to ever give a second thought to how I responded to fear. Sometimes I was strong and pushed through despite the thick cloud fear brought. But others, I would curl up, completely crippled by the weight of the fear. Today I'm talking about 3 ways I've been changing my relationship with fear. Because I believe you can, too! Click to listen in...

3 Ways I’m Changing My Relationship with Fear

When I was about four years old I was playing in my Grandma’s closet one day when my younger brother shut the door on me. I remember how quickly my young little mind translated the door being shut as I’M LIVING HERE FOREVER.

I didn’t, of course, live in that closet longer than a mere 10 minutes. But in the moment I was gripped with fear that what was really just a funny little adventure for my brother meant something far more drastic.

For years after, the idea of being enclosed in a small space terrified me. And I wouldn’t dream of stepping inside a closet because my little mind believed the door would always close. All because it had happened…you know, that one time.

And while I’d love to laugh this off with an “I’ve grown past this”, which holds truth, there’s more to the story. Because can still find my relationship with fear to be as consuming as it was that day in my childhood closet.

So today I’m coming out of the closet (see what I did there?) and sharing some of the ways I’ve been intentionally changing my relationship with fear. Because at the end of the day, why would we ever want to live a life ruled by fear?

And yet it happens. To most of us. Just tell me if any of this sounds familiar to you, too…

We hesitate to move, we resist change, decide against that bold step out into the unknown all because the F-word grips us with it’s manipulative whispers.

“You aren’t strong enough.”

“You aren’t talented enough.”

“You’ll do it WRONG.”

“People won’t want to hear what you have to say.”

Sometimes the whispers are born out of an experience we’ve had that leads us to believe THAT EVERY SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCE WILL BE THE SAME. If I got hurt once trying this, why the hell would I do it again? If I couldn’t do it three years ago, why would I trust I could do it today?

In other moments we find ourselves justifying our way out of something because we believe the fear is there as some sort of indication that danger lies ahead. Our primal instinct, instead of questioned, is responded to with fight or flight. But fear told us to. So it’s okay, right?

But the beautiful truth I’m hoping to share with you and me is this: we can CHANGE our RELATIONSHIP with FEAR.

We can take the reigns back, release the haze of the fear clouds, and embrace truth. And today I’m gonna tell you about 3 REAL ways I’m shifting my conversation with fear. Because I believe it can help you, too!

Listen in…


So tune in below or find The Wellness Crossing over on iTunes, Stitcher, & Google Play!



Do you feel like fear is something you need to change the conversation with in your own life? Let me know below! I’d love to cheer you on, friend.

Fear can be crippling or it can be the launching pad into where we're supposed to be. Into healing, releasing negativity, slaying that next project, raising a voice that needs to be heard. Listen in on this episode of The Wellness Crossing as I dive into 3 ways I'm learning to change my relationship with FEAR. Click to listen!

Fear can be crippling or it can propel us to where we're supposed to be. @kamilingren

Fear would like us to believe it's arrived because it's not safe to step outside of our comfort zone. It whispers "You aren't strong enough." It hold us back. I know I've felt the weight of fear more often than I'd care to admit, but I've been learning how to change my relationship with fear. And I want to help you do the same! Click to listen in to this episode of The Wellness Crossing.

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Choosing to Trust

When I was about four years old my family moved to northern California and lived for a short time with my grandparents. My younger brother was just two and he and I were playing together one day in the upstairs bedroom.

He had followed me into the walk-in closet and I was flipping through the coats, pretending they were ALL MINE as I lost myself in dreamland. When I turned around to check on my brother my heart dropped when I spotted his mischievous grin and his little hand on the door.

“DON’T YOU CLOSE THAT DOOR, DAVID!” I bossed, like any good older sibling does. And, like any normal little brother, he giggled in response and threw the door shut.

Now, the top three reasons I didn’t want him to close the door are as follows:

  1. It would be dark.
  2. The door could only be opened from the outside.

(Obviously, the dark was not my friend).

I yelled at him to go get mom (OR ELSE), but he was clearly gone. Moving on to greener, more interesting pastures…like blocks, I’m sure.

I, on the other hand, was preparing for the long haul. In my four-year-old mind I feared I would be trapped there overnight. Or worse, for weeks to come.

And so I did what any resourceful little lady would do. I yanked down coats to make a bed and then searched in the dark for any miracle bags of candy or snacks (there were none). Proof I have always been a PLANNER.

I remember how afraid I felt, how dark that closet seemed as a little one. Even though on some level I believed that someone would come find me, I couldn’t shake the fear. The fear that I was alone. That this closet was going to be my new home. (Oh, childhood).

Reaching for the Light When Life Feels Dark | Living Grace Blog

There are times when I can feel so overcome by the presence of this fight with Lyme. The constant pain and the heaviness that can linger lead me to wish for the return of feeling “normal” again with every fiber in my being.

I have asked God all of the questions. “Why?”, “how much longer?” and “are you really here with me?”

I know at my core. I KNOW that he is here. I know that he can heal me.

But it’s not easy to hold onto that faith when you’ve been given an unmaterialized hope by various doctors along the way. 

First, hope that healing would come in a couple years. Then another later doctor thought a year with their treatment, and yet another believed a few months would show huge improvement.

But here I am.

Healing hasn’t come as we envisioned. At times we’d see a small improvement in one area only to have several new symptoms pop up in its place. New layers to this complicated illness also seem to be uncovered every few months, adding to the complexity of it all.

I go through more tests. More procedures. More treatment. More time for healing.

And somehow in this mess, I found I am doing what many of us do when we’re in the struggle. Sometimes without even knowing it.

I am choosing to trust. Because otherwise I’m only left with the darkness.

I will grip this jagged hope of mine that life won’t always be this way. In small, moment-by-moment steps I will reach out for that hope.

And though my prayers seem to be met with silence… I believe

I choose to believe he is here. I’ll look for him in the beautiful expansion of the countryside, in the ripples of the lake. I’ll find him in the evening sunset. In the smile of my husband and the kindness of friends, family and fellow warriors.

I’ll open my heart and eyes to see beyond this darkness and believe light can still be found here. 

Lying across my bed of blankets in that childhood closet, I eventually heard my mother’s steps coming towards the door. After what felt like hours (in reality, a matter of minutes), the door was opened and light poured in.

Much like I reached for whatever resourceful ways I could cope with the darkness of the closet, I am learning to find the glimmers of light in this struggle.

As I tilt my heart upward to believe God is here, 

to hold on within these shadows,

and grab onto hope that someday I will be better,

I’m choosing to trust that this is not the end. 

I’m choosing to believe that this is only part of my story.

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