Crawling Out

Not every fear is loud. These crept in quietly and left the same way.

Story by Ethan Anest

Illustrations by Grace Matson

Published October 3, 2025

Some fears may be obvious: heights, spiders, and public speaking. Others can feel smaller, but still hold you back in subtle ways. A feeling lingering in the background until one day, you’re tired of carrying it.

For Sarah Beringer, the fear was bugs. For Jody Lamp, it was speaking in front of others, especially large groups. Neither, though, came with a huge moment or some clear turning point in overcoming their fears. Both people stayed with that discomfort until life gave them a reason to face it. It wasn’t planned. Just slow learning.

Beringer remembers her fear starting when she was a kid. “Throwing bugs at each other was considered fun,” she said. “So I learned to be freaked out by them early on.”

She doesn’t describe one big moment, just a pattern. Outside, the kids she worked with would flip rocks or look through the grass and show her beetles, just like the kids she grew up with. The ground was damp, the air smelled like grass and wet bark. Someone would grab a bug and toss it, and she’d instinctively back up, heart speeding up even though no one else seemed to mind. She didn’t scream or cry. Instead, she froze, waiting for it to be over.

It wasn’t only the size that got to her, it was the unpredictability. “They’re so small, they could just be anywhere,” she said. That feeling that something might crawl across your skin when you weren’t looking. Even the idea of it used to make her tense up.

She never planned to face her fear head-on, but it happened anyway. While working with kids, Beringer found herself surrounded by the exact things she once avoided: beetles, worms, messy hands, and the casual chaos that comes with letting kids explore outside.

“It wasn’t like I was actively trying to face my fear,” she said. Once, a kid ran up holding a beetle and asked her what kind it was. She leaned in and looked, not backing away, just curious, even though part of her wanted to flinch. Moments like that added up.

The feeling hasn’t completely disappeared. Spiders still aren’t her thing, but she doesn’t flinch at bugs like she used to. She doesn’t brace for them, doesn’t back away. Now she sees them more as a part of the world than something out to get her.

For Jody Lamp, the fear was more social. She describes herself as someone who is kind, quiet, and slow to open up. Growing up, public speaking made her uncomfortable, and being the center of attention felt like bugs crawling up her spine. Even simple things like reading aloud in class used to make her stomach twist. She’d feel it coming, the heat rising in her face, the sound of her heartbeat louder than her voice, eyes fixed on the page so she wouldn’t look up.

“When I was younger, I was very shy. I didn’t like public speaking at all,” she said.

Everything started to shift once she began working at a nearby cafe as a food service employee. Interacting with customers became part of her daily routine, and conversations that once felt intimidating slowly turned into something manageable.

“You have to deal with customers and things like that, so that definitely brought me out of my shell,” she said. She remembers the first time someone asked her about a drink, and she didn’t hesitate. She smiled and answered without thinking. It was small, but it surprised her. She was surprised by how calm she felt. After that, talking to people got a little easier each day.

“I’m not super outgoing, but I think once you get to know me, I can warm up to you,” she said. That line stuck with her, and it’s something she reminds herself of whenever she starts to close off again.

She still needs her quiet time, though. When she needs a reset, she goes to her bedroom, turns on a podcast, and lets herself relax. It’s quiet, familiar and hers. She doesn’t need to talk there. That’s where things stop feeling so loud.

Neither of them got rid of the fear entirely, but they learned how to live with it and to keep going even when it still lingers. What they gained wasn’t fearlessness, just enough assurance to keep showing up.