Yael Shy shares her journey from living in constant fear as a child to learning to trust, heal, and reconnect with herself and others. Through reflection on past trauma and growth, she encourages readers to find their own courage.
I grew up feeling afraid all the time. At age seven, I started refusing to go to school because I was scared my mom would die while I was gone. By age nine, I developed a nervous tic—a quirk that my brother, with sibling cruelty, called 'a turkey head.' I worried about everything: my dad driving in the rain, failing at jump rope, making friends, crossing the street, my mom dying, getting cancer, nuclear war, running out of money.
One night, when I was eight or nine, my best friend had a sleepover birthday party. In the middle of the night, I woke up panicked, convinced that my parents were dead, and I couldn’t breathe. I called them to come pick me up.
The thing was, I had a pretty happy childhood in a loving, middle-class, Jewish, suburban family. Nothing 'bad' happened to me—no one got sick or died, our house didn't burn down, there was no divorce. I never understood what caused my overwhelming, ever-present fear.
When I left for college in New York City, the anxiety (temporarily) turned into its opposite—recklessness. That year, my best friend died in a tragic accident. Her sudden death was a slap-in-the-face reminder that the world is as dangerous as I’d always feared. After that, my anxiety was turbocharged.
In 2001, after September 11th, I spent the day anxiously volunteering at the local hospital, checking names on the missing persons’ list. My anxiety and fear, like that of many New Yorkers, reached new heights.
Eventually, I started attending meditation classes. Learning to name the feelings as they arose—fear, worry, panic, sadness—helped a bit. But what really started to shift things was the realization that I was not alone, that these feelings were not 'just mine.' I heard other people share about their anxieties, and I recognized myself in their stories. This helped me feel less alone and more accepting of my own suffering. Little by little, I’ve learned to trust myself, to return, again and again, to the present moment, and at my best—believe in the possibility of hope.
If you are struggling with anxiety or panic, you are not alone. There is hope, even in the deepest depths of fear. May we all experience courage and connection with ourselves and with one another.
