Decapitating Fear

Why I’m choosing excitement over compliance—and how you can too.

It’s weird to say, but despite the absolute wackadoo events happening in the world right now, I have moments when I actually get excited.

Don’t get me wrong—most of the time my stomach is churning, I’m trying to keep my nervous system in check while feeling helpless, and I’m surprised, based on the rage I feel when seeing fellow humans treated inhumanely, that I haven’t combusted.

Not to mention the endless 24/7 breaking news cycle and how a few have allowed one privileged white man, who is obviously unwell, to drain so much time, energy, and oxygen from every living thing on this planet. It can be mind-numbing and seem unreal.

But it is real. So why the hell do I have moments of excitement?

Because I’m using it as a subversive tool to reclaim my power from the people at the top. They want us afraid and compliant. Most people don’t handle fear well, and they know we are easier to manipulate when we’re scared.

When fear takes center stage, I remind myself that if we’re going to build a better world, we’re going to have to destroy a bunch of things tied to systems that don’t serve the global majority. Granted, we’re destroying some good with the bad, but that’s the messiness of death before rebirth.

Reminding myself this is a necessary step on the path to a new world order means I can start to get excited about what might be possible. My contribution right now is to remind every midlife woman I can that we are the answer we’ve been waiting for.

In my book Joybellion: Transforming Midlife Insignificance Into Freedom, Power, and Everyday Magic, coming out in June, I talk about playing two games. One is ensconced in the systems we must navigate every day—the ones set up to keep us afraid and wanting, conditioning us to believe that only the same people who created the problems can solve them.

We’ve spent decades playing this “first game.” We strive for societal success, perform the unpaid labor, and shrink ourselves to fit the box, only to discover there’s no way to win. We get halfway through the game of life and realize we’ve been starved, unfulfilled, and frankly, lied to.

Midlife is the ultimate “fuck this” portal. It’s the moment Mother Nature taps us on the shoulder and says, “It’s your time now.” Our second game revolves around trusting ourselves over everyone and everything else. Self-trust is the antidote to systemic sabotage.

Choosing moments of excitement when all hell is breaking loose is playing the second game. It’s directing energy to what comes next—to what we have control over.

While writing this, I took a break to go to the grocery store. Waiting at an intersection, I saw an older man running across the street against a green light, attempting to catch a bus. He was frail, struggling. He only made it halfway across before the bus pulled away. I hate watching people miss buses.

As I waited to make a left turn, I felt the urge to offer him a ride. Then, the social conditioning kicked in: Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t invite strangers into your car. What if you get kidnapped? I’m nearly sixty, yet the “don’t talk to strangers” training from 1979 still rings in my ears. I made my turn and pulled over. As I walked to the bus stop I lost my nerve and did a one-eighty. But the urge didn’t leave, so I walked toward my fear and circled back.

“Excuse me. Hi, I saw you trying to catch the bus and saw you missed it. I was wondering if you’d like a ride to where you were going?”

“Sure,” he said without hesitation.

He climbed in, and I asked for his destination. He mentioned a church but struggled with directions. I decided to just start driving in the direction the bus was headed, trusting we’d figure it out.

Then he blurted out, “I really need to stop smoking so much weed.”

“Oh, you’re a little high?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

“Well, I only took two puffs,” he said. “But I’m still not making total sense.”

“Do you want some?” he asked.

“Weed?” I asked. “Yes.”

“No thanks,” I said. “I never feel good when I smoke weed.”

“My name is Archie. I live in the truck.”

I told him I’d seen him around. I considered him a neighbor, which is why I’d stopped. He told me he was nearly eighty years old, and I felt my heart break a little. He’d been living in his truck for six years, headed to a church that fed a thousand meals a week to the homeless—shout out to The Hope Center!

As we reached our destination, he said if I ever needed help with anything, to let him know. I thanked him and said goodbye.

As I drove away, I burst into tears.

What I envision for the world we build is one in which I don’t hesitate to help a stranger in need. I envision a world where those less fortunate are treated with respect, and where our senior citizens aren’t living in trucks.

So whatever your “thing” is—whether it’s equality, valued caregiving, or helping Mother Earth flourish—paint a detailed picture of it. Then, when the fear starts creeping in, don’t feed it. Feed the vision. Get excited. Anchor yourself in what’s possible instead of what’s crumbling.

We are in the messy middle of a major reorder. We can either be victims of the rubble or architects of the new structure. I don’t know about you, but I’m so ready to build something worth having.

Want to learn how to master the second game? My new book, Joybellion, will be out in June. If you want to be the first to know when it drops, you’ll find all the details here 👇🏽.

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