We’re all afraid of something. For me it’s bees. For others its heights. It’s easy to fear physical things—things we can associate with pain to our physical bodies. Because, duh, no one wants to voluntarily get stung by a hornet, bit by a snake, fall off a cliff, or, well, die otherwise prematurely.

Those fears are natural. Those fears are real, physical, and for me, a constant nuisance between the months of May and October. But what about the fears that reside deep within us? The fears that often go undefined for the rest of our lives. Those are the fears I want to talk about.

I’ve been afraid of something for several years now. Something I couldn’t define. Those of you who know me well know that I’ve been adrift since I graduated from college. I didn’t necessarily do something wrong—but I didn’t do the right thing I was supposed to do either. I’ve been unable to firmly plant myself in a career. I’ve failed to find a partner. And I’ve let debt consume whatever is left of my mental bandwidth.

I feel stuck despite the overwhelming urge to flee. To leave my life as it is and start somewhere new. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve plotted becoming an English teacher in Thailand, going to grad school in Norway, or trading labor for room and board at my favorite hostel in Jerusalem.

For years my mind has been in fight or flight mode and I didn’t even know it. My subconscious has been hard at work telling me something is wrong with my status quo. And I’m here to confirm that something indeed is very wrong.

I’m deeply afraid. But it’s not a stinging wasp I’m afraid of—its myself.

For the entirety of my humble human existence, I’ve told myself I’m not worth it. I’m perpetually single because I’m not worth someone else’s affection. I struggle with my body image because I don’t meet the physical expectations of attractiveness. And despite my unquestionable drive to land the job of my dreams, deep down, I knew it would never come to fruition because I didn’t deserve it.

And it didn’t come to fruition. Even when the opportunity came knocking right on my front door. Because I didn’t deserve it.

To avoid acknowledging my fear, I’ve wrapped myself in a shroud of victimhood. I’ve blamed the system. I’ve blamed my circumstances. I’ve blamed luck, timing, and fortune. I’ve blamed everyone but myself.

The reality is, I’ve been the problem this entire time.

My fear manifests itself in a lack of confidence. Even when I believe in my ability to succeed at something, I don’t believe that I am the individual worth accomplishing it. My subconscious likes this status quo. Status quo is easy to protect; change…not so much. Anytime I set myself to accomplish something, Subconscious Amanda kicks in and undermines Conscious Amanda. It reinforces the belief that I’m not worth it.

And so the cycle begins again. And again. And again.

But the fear doesn’t stop there. It remembers accomplishments, mourning past success and the void created in its wake. Because when I accomplish something, the fear doesn’t have doubt—the fuel fear needs to keep going. Failure is simply how I learn. And because failure doesn’t get rid of the doubt, it enables it to coexist in perpetuity. Failure and doubt. Doubt and failure.

Success, on the other hand, has a defined, positive outcome. It’s the enemy of doubt. It’s difficult, if not outright impossible, for doubt and success to coexist because of the external validation factor. Winning a Nobel Prize, for example, requires a body of judges to adjudicate your work. The same with winning an Emmy or being voted president. The problem with success is achievement: once a goal is achieved, it is gone.

Then what?

What comes after success?

Have you ever wondered why Hollywood stars, famous artists, and award winning musicians are consumed by addiction and plagued with suicide? They’ve reached success. And they have no idea what’s next. So they to drift. Success is no longer something to strive for and failure is no longer something to learn from. The void at the end of success is sometimes worse than not succeeding at all.

And that is what my subconscious is protecting me from. To guard itself from the unknown, Subconscious Amanda tells Conscious Amanda that she is not only unworthy of success, but that she should not pursue it in the first place. The actual risk outweighs the perceived reward. As a result, the goal remains yet to be achieved and perpetual doubt in my own self-worth persists.

Facing our fears is hard. Especially the ones deep within us. But it starts with defining the fear. Defining it makes it real; correlating it with behaviors and perceptions makes it tangible.

I think this is truly why people struggle so hard with losing weight. It’s not that losing weight is necessarily hard. When you think about it, losing weight is basic math: eat less/expend more than you consume. The challenge that comes with success is that when you reach your goal, you will have to like yourself at the end of the journey. That is not something your subconscious is prepared to handle. This is why the voice in your head tells you to skip the gym or eat your favorite dessert. It’s doubt creeping in. It’s not failure—you’re intention is still there—but it delays the inevitable reconciliation your mind and your body will have to have with one another if you succeed.

I don’t think we’re programmed to succeed. I think we’re programmed to fear success. That’s why so few people actual succeed. We like status quo.

If you’ve read this far, I’m sorry to disappoint you. There is no pithy conclusion at the end of this self-help rainbow. My mind, my body, and myself have some work to do.