Real-world examples of writing about a fear you've overcome

Story-first examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome

Let’s start where good writing starts: with stories. Before you worry about structure or style, read through a few examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome and notice how each one zooms in on a specific moment instead of trying to cover a whole lifetime.

Example of social anxiety: the cafeteria door

You don’t begin with a definition of social anxiety. You begin with a door.

At 11:42 a.m., I stood outside the cafeteria, pretending to read a text I didn’t have. My palms were damp, my heart was loud, and the metal handle in front of me felt like a test I kept failing. I knew no one was actually staring at me, but my brain played the same loop: If you walk in alone, everyone will see you have no one.

For most of freshman year, I chose the bathroom stall over the lunchroom. I ate granola bars over the sink, scrolling through people’s highlight reels on Instagram, convinced there was a script for high school I’d never received. Therapy didn’t magically erase the fear, but it gave me a quiet counter-voice: You’re allowed to take up space.

The day I finally walked into the cafeteria alone, nothing dramatic happened. No one gasped. No one laughed. A girl from my math class waved me over, and we talked about how impossible the last quiz was. The fear didn’t disappear that day—but it stopped being in charge.

This is one of the best examples of how to write about a fear you’ve overcome: small scene, physical details (door handle, time on the clock), and a clear before-and-after. You don’t need a life-or-death event; you just need emotional stakes.

Example of fear of public speaking: the shaking paper

If you’re hunting for examples of examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome for a school speech, scholarship essay, or college application, public speaking is a classic.

The paper in my hand shook so hard it rustled like a storm. I wasn’t on a big stage—just the front of my 10th grade English classroom—but my body didn’t care about the scale. My heart sprinted, my vision tunneled, and every exit sign in the room glowed brighter than my classmates’ faces.

I used to fake sore throats on presentation days. I took zeros rather than stand up and feel my voice wobble in front of other people. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, public speaking is one of the most common social fears, but statistics didn’t make it less terrifying when my name appeared on the presentation schedule. (NIMH)

What changed wasn’t my personality; it was my preparation. I joined the debate club on a dare and discovered something strange: the more I practiced being afraid in low-stakes settings, the less power the fear had. The first time I spoke at a school assembly, my voice still shook—but I didn’t run. I looked up, finished my sentence, and heard something I’d never associated with public speaking before: my friends cheering.

Notice how this example of writing about a fear you’ve overcome doesn’t pretend the fear is gone forever. Instead, it shows how the relationship to that fear has changed.

Example of fear of driving after an accident

Some fears come from one sharp moment rather than years of low-level anxiety. These examples include trauma, and they work well in reflective essays or personal narratives.

The night of the accident, the sound of metal folding in on itself carved a permanent track in my memory. No one died. My injuries healed. The insurance forms were signed and filed away. But three months later, my fingers still locked on the steering wheel every time a car changed lanes too quickly beside me.

I started taking the bus and telling people I just “preferred public transit.” The truth was simpler: I was terrified. Every green light looked like a trap I might not escape from this time. According to the Mayo Clinic, it’s common for people to experience lingering fear and anxiety after a crash, even when they’re physically cleared to drive again. (Mayo Clinic)

The first time I got back behind the wheel, it wasn’t heroic. My cousin sat in the passenger seat while I drove around an empty church parking lot at 8 a.m. on a Sunday. Ten minutes. Then fifteen. Then a quiet drive home on side streets. Over weeks, the parking lot expanded into the neighborhood, and the neighborhood into the highway. The fear didn’t vanish; it just stopped being the only voice in the car.

When you’re looking for real examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome, this kind of gradual exposure arc is powerful: small steps, honest setbacks, and a concrete sign of progress.

Example of fear of failure: the unopened email

In 2024 and 2025, a lot of people write about fears tied to achievement—grades, careers, creative work, social media pressure. Here’s how that can look:

The email sat in my inbox for three days, bold and accusing, subject line: “Decision Letter.” I had worked toward this graduate program for two years, but when the answer finally arrived, I couldn’t bring myself to click. If I didn’t open it, there was still a version of the future where I got in.

My fear of failure didn’t look like dramatic breakdowns. It looked like procrastination, “forgetting” deadlines, and pretending I didn’t care about things that mattered to me. I’d watched friends post their acceptances on social media, their celebratory emojis stacking up in my feed. I told myself I was above all that, but the truth was simpler: I didn’t want to see proof that I wasn’t enough.

When I finally opened the email, the rejection landed like a punch—then, surprisingly, like a release. It hurt, but it also didn’t erase my work or my worth. I applied to two other programs I’d been too scared to consider, and one of them said yes. The fear of failure still whispers, but it no longer decides which emails I open.

This is one of the best examples of how subtle a fear can be—and how powerful it is when you name it directly on the page.

Example of fear of saying “no” and setting boundaries

Not all fears are loud. Some are quiet, polite, and smiling.

For years, my calendar looked like a losing game of Tetris. Every empty block filled with someone else’s needs: extra shifts, last-minute favors, “quick” calls that lasted an hour. I said yes automatically, then lay awake at night rehearsing the conversations I wished I’d had.

I wasn’t afraid of confrontation in theory. I was afraid of being seen as difficult, selfish, or ungrateful. So I swallowed my no’s and wore my exhaustion like a badge of honor. Burnout didn’t arrive all at once; it crept in through missed meals, forgotten hobbies, and the quiet dread I felt when my phone lit up with a new request.

Learning to say no started with a script my therapist and I wrote together: “I can’t take that on right now, but I hope it goes well.” The first few times I used it, my hands shook, waiting for anger that never came. Most people just said, “No worries.” The world didn’t end. My relationships didn’t collapse. The fear of disappointing people still flares up, but now it has to compete with something new: the relief of finally being honest.

If you’re looking for examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome that fit modern life—overwork, burnout, people-pleasing—this kind of boundary story connects with a lot of readers.

Example of fear of coming out or being fully yourself

Many of the strongest real examples of fear narratives center on identity: sexuality, gender, culture, or simply being different from what’s expected.

I learned early that some topics were safe for the dinner table—grades, sports, college plans—and some were not. When my uncle made a joke about “those people” on TV, everyone laughed except me. I laughed too, eventually, but it caught in my throat.

By sixteen, the word “gay” lived in my head like contraband. I highlighted every queer character in books and then hid the books under my bed. The fear wasn’t just about being rejected; it was about losing the version of myself my family thought they knew.

Coming out didn’t happen in one cinematic moment. It happened in a series of conversations, some tender, some tense. My mom cried, but not for the reasons I expected. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide,” she said. The fear didn’t disappear overnight. But each time I said the words out loud—first to friends, then to family, then in a casual “my boyfriend” dropped into conversation—it loosened its grip. I stopped editing myself out of my own life.

When you write this kind of story, you’re not just showing that you overcame fear; you’re also showing what you gained on the other side: authenticity, connection, or self-respect.

Example of health-related fear: the test result

Since 2020, more people are writing about health anxiety and medical fears—COVID, long COVID, chronic illness, or just the terror of opening a lab report.

The lab portal pinged my phone while I was in line at the grocery store. “New test result available.” I stared at the notification like it was a live grenade. For the last month, every ache and flutter in my chest had turned into a late-night WebMD spiral. (MedlinePlus, via NIH)

I didn’t grow up thinking of myself as anxious, but the pandemic rewired something. Every cough became a symptom, every headline a warning. The fear wasn’t just about getting sick; it was about losing control over my body and my future.

What helped wasn’t pretending I wasn’t scared. It was learning how to carry that fear without letting it dictate every choice. I talked to my doctor instead of just the internet. I limited how often I checked my patient portal. I started walking every morning, not as a magic cure, but as a way to remind myself that my body could do more than worry. The test result that day was normal. The fear didn’t vanish, but it stopped running the show.

Again, the strongest examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome don’t hinge on a miracle cure. They show how you live with fear differently.

How to turn your own fear into a powerful narrative

Now that you’ve seen several examples of examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome, you can reverse-engineer them into your own piece.

Start with a scene. Not a summary like “I used to be scared of dogs,” but a moment: the first time a dog barked and you froze, or the day you finally reached out your hand to pet one. Sensory details—what you saw, heard, smelled, or felt—pull the reader into your body.

Then, name the fear honestly. Instead of hiding behind vague phrases like “I was nervous,” consider language that shows intensity: “My chest tightened,” “My legs felt like concrete,” “I rehearsed every possible way this could go wrong.” The best examples of fear writing don’t shy away from the messy parts.

Next, show the turning point. Maybe it was a conversation, a book, a therapist, a YouTube video, a support group, or just the quiet realization that you were tired of being controlled by this thing. If you’re writing for school or a personal statement, you can briefly mention research or statistics from trusted sources like the National Institute of Mental Health or CDC to ground your experience in something larger.

Finally, focus on what “overcoming” actually looks like. In nearly all the real examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome, “overcome” doesn’t mean “never scared again.” It means:

• You act even though you’re afraid.
• The fear is smaller, quieter, or less in control.
• You gained skills, insight, or compassion from facing it.

If your story ends with “and then I was never afraid again,” it often rings false. If it ends with “I’m still sometimes afraid, but now I know how to move anyway,” it feels human.

Using these examples in different kinds of writing

People search for examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome for all sorts of reasons: creative writing prompts, college essays, therapy homework, even workplace trainings.

For a college or scholarship essay, admissions officers often look for growth, reflection, and resilience. A fear story works well if it shows how you think, how you respond to setbacks, and how you treat other people. For instance, writing about social anxiety can lead naturally into how you learned to listen deeply to others, or how it made you more empathetic.

For a memoir or personal blog, you have more room to explore nuance and context. You can braid in family history, cultural expectations, or mental health topics. Linking out to resources—like NIMH’s overview of anxiety disorders or MedlinePlus on coping with stress—can help readers who see themselves in your story.

For fiction, you can borrow the emotional truth of these best examples and give them to your characters. A protagonist who’s terrified of driving after a crash, or who avoids opening an email, feels real because those fears are grounded in recognizable behavior.

Quick checklist inspired by the best examples

When you re-read the examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome above, you’ll notice they all share a few traits:

• They zoom in on one fear, not every fear the writer has ever had.
• They open with a specific moment (the cafeteria door, the shaking paper, the unopened email).
• They admit uncomfortable thoughts instead of sanitizing them.
• They show a shift in behavior or perspective over time.
• They end with a sense of movement, not perfection.

If your draft feels flat, check it against that list. Often, adding one vivid scene or one unfiltered thought is enough to bring it to life.

FAQ: examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome

How personal should I get when writing about a fear I’ve overcome?
Personal doesn’t have to mean exposing every detail. The strongest examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome are honest about emotions and thoughts, but they still protect parts of the story the writer isn’t ready to share. You can change names, skip sensitive specifics, or focus on one part of the journey.

Can I write about a fear I’m still working on, or does it have to be fully “overcome”?
Yes, you can absolutely write about a fear that’s still in progress. Many real examples include ongoing struggles. Just make sure you show some kind of shift—what you’ve learned, how you cope now, or how your choices have changed.

What are some good examples of fears to write about for school essays?
Common choices include fear of public speaking, fear of failure, test anxiety, social anxiety, fear of standing out, or fear of disappointing others. The topic matters less than how specifically you describe it and how clearly you show growth.

Is it okay to include mental health terms like anxiety or PTSD in my story?
Yes, especially if those terms have been part of your actual experience or diagnosis. If you reference conditions like anxiety disorders or PTSD, it can help to ground them in accurate information from reliable sources such as NIMH or Mayo Clinic.

Where can I find more examples of personal narratives about fear?
Look at personal essays in reputable magazines, student essay collections from universities, or narrative-focused podcasts and blogs. Many universities, such as Harvard, share guidance on personal essays that can give you more ideas for structure and tone, even if the topic isn’t fear specifically.

When you’re ready, reread these examples of examples of writing about a fear you’ve overcome, notice which one feels closest to your own experience, and start there. Change the setting, change the details, but keep the same honesty. That’s what makes the story worth reading.