There is a state many of us live in.

Not loud.
Not dramatic.

More like a constant, background tension.

The feeling that it’s not enough.

Not enough money.
Not enough security.
Not enough time, energy, or reserves.

And from this sense of scarcity, we learn how to function.

We learn that
everything must be handled alone,
asking for help is weakness,
if you slow down, you fall behind,
if you don’t perform, there will be consequences.

What’s strange is that this fear often doesn’t disappear
even when, “in theory,” there’s no longer a reason for it.

It simply changes shape.

What if I lose what I’ve built?
What if I become less?
What if I stop growing?

As if fear no longer comes from our circumstances,
but is built directly into the system itself.

And that is exhausting.

At some point, it’s no longer specific threats that keep us moving,
but the constant state of inner alertness.
The self-monitoring.
The adaptation.
The quiet defence.

But what if fear is not human nature,
but a learned way of operating?

What if scarcity is not a starting point,
but a flawed assumption?

What if safety is not a reward,
but a foundation?

Because when people are not afraid,
they don’t shut down — they open up.

They pay attention.
They connect.
They dare to ask questions.
They dare to ask for and offer help.

And then something entirely different begins to happen.

Not less —
but more.

This isn’t theory for me.

“At the moment, my biggest fear is existential.”

Writing that down wasn’t easy.
But there was an experiment in it:
the idea that when a fear is named,
it no longer gets to run everything.

“So far, I’ve always found a small financial buffer somewhere.”
And as I continue working with HGM,
I have a sense that this fear, too, will pass.

Not because “everything will be fine.”
But because it doesn’t remain alone.

Fear isn’t strong because it’s true.
It’s strong because it’s isolated.

Once it becomes speakable,
once it can be shared,
it loses its most powerful weapon:
the ability to close us in.

Old structures begin to loosen at this point.
That can be frightening.

But it’s often the first sign
that something new is already on its way.

We’re not rushing.
We’re not forcing anything.

It’s enough to pay attention.
It’s enough to stay connected.
It’s enough not to lock this feeling inside.

From here, the path no longer leads downwards. ❤️