The True Superpower: Choosing Love Over Fear

I often wonder when that moment happens—when we begin to learn fear. We aren’t born with it. Children arrive drenched in soul—curious, trusting, unguarded. They greet strangers with open hearts, forgive without hesitation, and move through life with wonder until the world teaches them to brace. Fear enters slowly—first as caution, then as vigilance, and eventually as a quiet hum beneath everything. And when you become a mother, that hum can roar. Suddenly you are alert to every possible danger, every unknown, every shadow. I didn’t fully know fear until little pieces of my heart were walking through this world outside my body. And yet, while love deepened, fear tried to deepen too. That’s when I began to see that motherhood isn’t just about raising children—it’s about remembering who I am while doing it. It’s where ego and soul meet most fiercely.

Fear is clever. It calls itself responsible, wise, careful, prepared. It whispers, “Be safe. Be realistic. Imagine the worst so you aren’t surprised.” But fear doesn’t always protect us—it cages us. It tightens the body and narrows possibility. It convinces us that bracing is living, when really, bracing is waiting to live. One day I realized fear was influencing more than I wanted to admit: how I mothered, how I dreamed, what I reached for, what I talked myself out of, who I believed I could become. That’s when the quiet truth arrived—fear wasn’t intuition; it was programming. And programming can be rewritten.

There are moments in life when we silence fear and taste freedom. Writing my book. Starting this blog. Putting my voice into the world simply because it wanted to live outside me—not because it was guaranteed to be liked or validated. And one memory lives with me vividly: standing nearly naked on a stage in a tiny bikini, knowing I was there to be judged, and still choosing to stand tall. It was one of the most liberating moments of my life—not because I won, but because I showed up unshrunken. I love those moments when I stop overthinking, stop bracing, stop caring about approval, and find my best *I truly don’t give a f@k energy and leap anyway. Those are the moments I feel God, truth, soul, freedom. Those are the moments I meet myself. They remind me that courage is not the absence of fear—it’s the refusal to obey it.

I want my children to see that woman. I want them to see me lit up, alive, trying things, risking joy—not shrinking for safety. I don’t care what they grow up to do, as long as they are on fire for it (preferably self-sufficient while doing it—that part would be nice). Motherhood has humbled me and awakened me more than any teacher ever could. Children exist in soul before conditioning. They don’t fear being too much or not enough—they just are. Watching them reminds me of the woman I was before the world handed me masks. Motherhood makes me ask: am I parenting from love or from fear? Am I reacting, or consciously choosing? Am I passing forward wounds, or breaking them? My children don’t need perfection; they need presence, softness, a mother who knows how to breathe, who chooses faith over fear, who remembers who she is so they never forget who they are. Motherhood didn’t silence my spirit—it demanded I listen more closely.

One of the biggest reasons I felt called to hypnotherapy wasn’t just to help others—it was to help myself. To rewire the fear. To calm the inner alarms. To soften the what-ifs. To stop bracing for disaster and start living for joy. Hypnosis helped me discover that beneath the fear was peace waiting, confidence waiting, freedom waiting. Not because fear disappears, but because I no longer assign it authority.

Fear has a place—but not a throne. I am learning every day to choose love over control, presence over panic, trust over tension, curiosity over caution, expansion over safety, truth over approval. Fear may keep us alive, but love lets us live. I want my children to inherit courage, not caution. Hope, not hesitation. A mother who is alive, not just surviving. The true superpower is a life led by soul, not fear. And I am becoming her—day by day, breath by breath, choice by choice.

If this spoke to your heart, know that you’re not alone. You’re remembering too. If your heart whispered yes while reading this, maybe it’s time to listen. Your fear had its chapter—now let your soul write the rest!