The Intimidation of my Own Life
Fear says, Get away. Intimidation says, Grow into me.
Today, notice what’s really in front of you.
Is it fear asking you to retreat, or intimidation asking you to expand?
“This is intimidating.” Words that came from my mouth, but had not yet surfaced in my thoughts, became an invitation to discover I have truly been emotionally evolved beyond fear. I keep telling myself, “I am not afraid,” and I mean it
Fear feels sharp like something you brace for, something that jolts you like a sudden crack of thunder. But this? This is slower, heavier, and strangely polite. This is intimidation.
It’s the way my own life stares me down from across the room, arms folded, eyebrows raised, as if to say, “Well… are you coming or not?”
Intimidation.
It sits with me every morning as I curl into the corner of this big couch, in this big room, looking through big windows at a vast landscape staring right back at me. We didn’t just move houses, we moved into a life that stripped away the familiar hum of traffic, the clink of coffee cups, and the comfort of neighbours who had become friends.
We moved to the kind of place where the wind has a name, and silence keeps you company more faithfully than people do. A place where the silence drapes itself over me like a blanket, and still, I squirm against it.
This place doesn’t care who I was before I arrived. It just leans in the doorway of my life, watching, waiting to see what I’ll do next. Half the time, it’s just me here. My husband’s away for work, and I’m learning the sound of my own breathing in the dark. I boil the kettle for one cup of tea. I leave the TV off to see how long I can sit in the hum of nothingness.
My family is on the other side of the country, in a time zone where they’re eating dinner while I’m pulling the last light from the sky. FaceTime helps, but it’s not the same as leaning against the kitchen counter while someone you love exists in the same air.
This kind of isolation has a loneliness that refracts like light through a prism, scattering into a thousand small aches. Then there’s the world itself—changed in ways I can’t quite name, shaped into something sharper, asking me daily, “How much of yourself will you bring to this new version of life?”
It’s not that I’m scared of change. It’s that I’m standing in the doorway of it, knowing I’ll have to cross the threshold without a map. The weight of that knowing presses in, like a slow, unpredictable weather front you can prepare for but never fully trust. I am uncertain if I am equipped for this experience, but I have an undeniable determination that others have expressed as stubbornness, blended with fear it has to often been my Kryptonite. This is different. Because intimidation is not fear. Fear is quick like a lightning strike. Intimidation is the slow gathering of clouds, reminding you that yes, you are small… but you are still here. Maybe that’s the point — to stand in all this space, with no witnesses but the wind, and let life grow me into the shape it’s been holding for me all along.
Intimidation rearranges the furniture in your mind. It makes you notice the long exhale before turning off the light, the way you hesitate before stepping outside as if asking permission. And maybe being intimidated means the thing in front of you is bigger than the thing you’ve been. Maybe it means life is stretching you into more space, even if it creaks like an old floorboard beneath your feet.
I have come to realize I’ve been intimidated by being small in a big world. Not afraid, just wondering if I could possibly be enough. I’ve spent a lifetime standing out, then shrinking back. Now there is a reflection staring me down as I navigate the vastness of this tiny town.
Intimidation doesn’t hide, doesn’t try to fit in or blend. It’s not a bully masquerading as confidence. It holds power. It’s a quiet, undeniable force.
Maybe intimidation is the presence of God, Creator, Source, reflecting truth back at me, asking “If this life was really too big for me, would it have been placed in my hands?” So I sit with it. I let it stare. I let it stretch me. And one day soon, I’ll step through that door — alone, but not lonely.
Much Love,
Corrie Thorne-Cameron
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Corrie Thorne-Cameron
Modern-day Mystic | Writer | Inspirational Storyteller | Channel | Psychic Medium | Lightworker & Mentor | Spiritual Teacher/Coach | Consultant & Healer.
Creating a beautiful life is my only way!
Nice to meet you! I am the founder/creator of the More Than Existing™️ brand, books, and self-actualization coaching program. My ‘why’ to the work, is to share my stories and gifts in the hope that others may discover that they are so much more than the stories, fears, and insecurities. To become loyal to the longest relationship you will ever have, the relationship with you. As I often share with others, "If you could see what I can see you would never doubt you again!”
I am a woman with a passionate heart, blended in diversity and love, with a belief that the truest of you is waiting to be discovered when you take the journey inward to discover the divine within.
I may never be the right fit for the world, but I finally belong in my world, and I open my heart to invite in more love each and every day.
Much love, Corrie
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