Dear fear,

I have a love-hate relationship with you.

I hate you. No. I loathe you. You make things hard for me, and more often than not you make me back down. You are this little voice in my head that says I'm going to fail, that I'm a loser, or that I shouldn't even bother trying.

You make me feel like crap. Part of me wants to do something great or something crazy, but you're always there to talk me out of it. "People will judge you and think you're odd," you whisper into my ear. "You are stupid. Don't do that if you want to fit in," you scream at my subconscious.

I hate how you have so much power over me in times I need to be fearless and face the hard or inevitable outcomes of life.

I love you for pushing me. Yes, you're that voice in my head that tells me what to do, but I've never been one to take orders well. You push me, and I push back ten times harder and with such a passion that I wonder why there was ever a shred of fear in the first place.

You are my motivation to do something scary. You are the reason I can look at so many things in my life and say I actually did it. I take pride in knowing that I conquer fear daily and that I have the courage to do so.

Fear is a bully. It makes me scared and timid, weak and powerless, and self-conscious.

Fear is motivation. It makes me feel empowered and brave, strong and powerful, and on top of the world.

While you are still that little voice in my head that knocks me down, I'm learning to harness you as a tool that will bring me to my feet again with a vengeance.

So fear, do your worst. I can take it.