When Fear Wanders Away

Yesterday, someone asked me if I get scared living alone.
It’s a question I’ve heard many times: Do you feel scared? Do you feel lonely? Do you miss companionship?

I’ll address the other questions in future posts. But today I want to answer just this one:
Do I get scared living alone?

The truth is, no. I don’t.
But it wasn’t always that way.

There was a time when I couldn’t sleep alone, even in a house full of people.
I was terrified of the dark. If I had to get up at night, even with someone right beside me, my heart would race. My hands would tremble. I would shiver just walking to the bathroom.

Thunderstorms were the worst.
When the rain crashed against the windows and thunder rolled across the sky, I would curl under the blanket and pray for morning. The fear was irrational, but it felt real, almost physical.

And then one day, I realized it was gone.
I don’t remember when it disappeared.

Maybe it happened slowly, when I became a mother, when my focus shifted from my fears to the tiny lives that needed me.
Or maybe it happened when I was forced to stand alone, to become both the protector and the provider.

Somehow, the universe didn’t stop sending challenges, but it trained me for them. It didn’t take away the battles; it built a warrior instead.

I still have other fears, but not this one.
Not the fear of being alone in my own home.

Somewhere along the way, the woman who once shivered in the dark learned to walk through it, calm, steady, and unafraid.

Somewhere along the way, the woman who once trembled in the dark became her own light.