"Fear will knock on your door, but you decide whether to invite it in or walk past it anyway."- Tash

This morning, Facebook reminded me of a version of myself I almost forgot.

A notification popped up, a memory from six years ago. A photo of my hand, middle finger marked with a small, defiant tattoo inked in Bali: "Fearless." It wasn’t just ink on skin; it was a declaration. A promise to myself. A reminder that no matter what life threw at me, I had this. I was fearless.

I remembered the storm I was standing in when I got that tattoo. The pain, the chaos, the unspoken fears that tried to drown me. And I remembered, just as clearly, how far I’ve come since then, not despite the fear, but because I refused to let it win.

Later that morning, at work, I saw something that took me right back to that feeling. The international students I work with, usually energetic, smiling, full of quiet determination, seemed... dimmed. I couldn’t ignore it. There was a heaviness in the air. Concern clouded their faces. They looked tired, uncertain, afraid.

One by one, I spoke to them. And one by one, they shared what they had heard, read, felt.

Stories, headlines, rumours.
Fear, spreading like wildfire.

News had broken about events in the Early Childhood Education and Care (ECEC) sector, and the ripple effect had been immediate. Centres pulling back on male educators. Hours cut without explanation. Universities' calling childcare centres, asking and hesitating whether male students would still be accepted for placements. The whispers had grown louder. And now, fear was screaming.

Fear had crept into their dreams.

These were students who left their homes, their families, everything they knew, just like I once did, for a dream only they could see. They worked tirelessly, some holding down jobs at night, paying their uni fees, all while studying to become educators who would shape the future. They did it all for a purpose. And now, just as they were nearing the finish line, their dream was being shadowed by something they couldn’t control.

Fear.
Such a small word. Just four letters.
But it carries the weight of the world.

Fear, a natural, primal emotion that signals danger. It alerts us. Protects us. But when given too much power, it becomes a prison. It limits our vision. It hijacks our courage. And the problem is, when we give fear a voice, especially one amplified by media and social media, it doesn’t just speak. It shouts. It drowns out truth, hope, and reason.

Fear can paralyse us. It clouds the mind, tenses the body, and convinces us that staying still is safer than moving forward. It makes us believe we are not ready, not enough, not worthy. And worst of all, it spreads. Fear doesn’t stay in one corner; it infects, echoes, and multiplies.

I’ve never done anything of true value in my life that didn’t terrify me. Every time I stood on the edge of something meaningful, fear was there, whispering, shaking me, tempting me to turn back.

And still, I jumped.

I’ve cried in silence. I’ve learned lessons that left scars. I’ve had moments where I truly believed I wouldn’t make it, where I felt the bruises, physical and emotional, would never heal. But they did. I did. Because it was in those moments, the raw, messy, terrifying moments, that I grew. That’s where the magic happened. That’s where I found my voice, my purpose, myself.

Some people get lost in the fire.
I like to believe I was built from it.

And I want the students, and anyone reading this, to know this:
Fear may always be a player in your life, but you get to choose its role. Will it be a driver? Or a passenger? Will it stop you? Or will it sharpen you?

Train your mind to be stronger than your emotions. Because if you don’t, you’ll lose yourself in every wave of anxiety, every change in the wind. You’ll live in fear of the “what if,” and miss the beauty of the “what is.”

You can spend your life worrying, trying to plan every step, and control every outcome. Or… you can surrender. You can trust. You can lean into the unknown with open palms instead of clenched fists.

Because here’s the truth:
Whatever is meant for you is already in motion.
What’s unfolding may not make sense now, but one day it will.
And when that day comes, you’ll be grateful for every detour, every delay, every doubt.

Let go of the fear that’s not yours to carry. Let go of the need to control the uncontrollable. Let go of the anxious tightness in your chest, and breathe into the flow of life.

You are not alone. You are not too late. You are not too much.
And your dream, it’s still alive. Even if it's trembling. Even if it's hiding.

So, look at the scars. Remember how far you’ve come. And remind yourself:
You were fearless once.
You still are.