You have always been apart of me and we’ve become especially close in my 20-something years. We’ve spent a lot of long, sleepless nights together. You’ve stood by my side through just about everything, whispering the doubts, “can’t”s and “what if”s. You always know just what to say to make me question everything. You always know just what to say to plague my mind with worry. I’ve given you a place to stay and you made yourself comfortable. But you’re not the only one to blame. Trusting you meant that I would stay safe. Trusting you meant that I got to make myself comfortable, too.
The problem arose when I dared to dream. When faith began to move in your space and became my foundation. Faith allowed me to believe in myself more and more. Faith allowed me to see past obstacles instead of making them roadblocks. That upset you, didn’t it? I could tell by the way you raised your voice, louder than I’d ever heard it before.
But Fear, my old friend, I want to let you know that I’m letting you go. You have held me back for far too long and I’m done allowing you to have control over me. I have to tune you out now. I know that at times I may feel your presence but I will not bow down to your demands. And I can’t stop you from visiting but don’t bother knocking on my door, because I won’t let you in. I won’t let you hinder me anymore. I won’t let you paralyze me anymore. I won’t let you make me forget the truth: God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7)
You no longer have a home in my mind. You no longer have a home in my heart. You no longer live here.