The Fearless Revolution: 7 Secrets to Becoming Fearless

By Sandy Gledhill

The world can be a scary place. When we are bombarded with bad news everyday, it is tempting to give in to fear and anxiety. However, nobody wants to live afraid so we do our best to muster up courage and forge ahead. That problem is that taking fearful action is not a sustainable long-term strategy. Courage is important, but it cannot be our en

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Gledhill
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987618011

Sandy Gledhill

Prior to being named Chief Operating Officer of Capsll, Inc., a technology company in Austin, Sandy enjoyed a long career as a Breakthrough Catalyst and Executive Advisor where she dedicated herself to helping high performing leaders unlock the secrets to even greater levels of success. But her years spent coaching executives, entrepreneurs, and influencers uncovered a dirty little secret harbored by many high achievers; that hidden fears often keep them living smaller lives than those for which they were created. Sandy was well acquainted with this particular secret as she too had perfected the art of looking like a risk-taking success story, while being plagued by a host of overwhelming fears that were tearing her apart inside. When keeping up the facade became unbearable, she began a 20-year personal quest to overcome fear once and for all. Having discovered the 7 secrets to becoming fearless, Sandy now pursues her life mission of sharing the message of fearlessness with the world as a speaker at corporate and community events, as well as to faith-driven groups. Sandy often describes herself as being "imperfect, in process, and yet, walking boldly in her purpose" because those things are not mutually exclusive. Sandy's brand of leadership development includes empowering leaders to lead, even as they are on their own journey of becoming.Overcoming fear once and for all has completely changed the trajectory of Sandy's life and she now enjoys her fearless lifestyle in Austin, Texas with her private investigator husband, Tim where they are partners in a detective agency.

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PREFACE

I was 19 years old when I climbed into the back of a four-seater Cessna airplane, blissfully unaware that less than an hour later, we would narrowly escape crashing into an island on what was supposed to be an amazing day of adventure. It was a beautiful, clear, Southern California morning in 1989 when I squeezed through the door of the small plane with so much excitement, it felt like it was emanating from every cell of my body. My friend, Kyle, had recently gotten his pilot’s license, and he was allowed to borrow planes from the small San Diego airfield where he worked. One weekend, Kyle suggested that he and his buddy, Andy, would fly my friend, Carrie, and me to Catalina Island for a fun day of shopping, snorkeling, and exploring.

As Kyle flipped through charts, snapped switches, and turned knobs on the instrument panel, Andy twisted around from the front passenger seat with a huge grin and gave us the thumbs up sign. I laughed out loud at the contrast between Kyle’s grown up, responsible pilot behavior, and Andy’s childlike exuberance that matched my own. I settled into my spot next to Carrie and buckled the ratty belt around my hips, absently wondering just how many trips this old metal bird had made and how many people had sat just where I was now. Did they also experience their first trip on a private aircraft from this very spot? Would this day be as memorable as I was hoping?

While I waited for the boys to complete the pre-flight checklist, I closed my eyes and breathed in the vaguely familiar scent of the plane. I scoured my memory, trying to place it, and smiled to myself as I realized it was the mingled, pleasing essence of leather and gasoline, reminding me of my first car, Joey. Joey was a 1974 Volkswagen Beetle who wore boring beige paint that chipped off easily from 11 years of exposure to the frigid winters and sweltering summers of Chicago. His undercarriage had been rusted away by the salt, which liberally coats midwestern roads to melt the ice and snow, but the severely rusted floorboards did not keep me from piling my friends into that Bug like it was a clown car. I was 16 years old and experiencing real freedom for the first time in my life, so I flew through that summer as if I owned the Chicago Suburbs that I called home. Recalling those fond memories made me realize that I felt a kinship with the old Cessna, and I loved the idea of puttering through the air in a winged version of Joey.

I was roused from my reverie with the sound of the propeller sputtering and popping until it found its full voice and began to whir. I arranged the bulky headphones over my ears as the engine revved, and I cringed slightly as I realized that they were probably not sterilized between users. The deafening volume of the engine kept in-flight chatting to a minimum. Still, Carrie and I excitedly pointed out landmarks to each other and took in the indescribable beauty of our bird’s-eye-view of the Pacific Ocean. I felt exuberantly joyful and more than a little bit cool as I glided through the perfect sky on that perfect day. I wore the indestructible armor of youth, and the world was mine for the taking.

The flight was a short 70-mile hop, and before I knew it, we could see the island ahead of us. I felt the slight change in our trajectory as we began to descend, and then, in a split second, the atmosphere shifted. Without warning and with no understanding of how I knew it, I became aware that something terrible was happening. It was powerful, silent, and instantaneous, a moment and a feeling I will remember as long as I live. The jubilant air I had just been breathing suddenly felt thick and dangerous. Carrie and I shot quick, worried glances at each other as we saw the guys tense up and hover intently over the dials and levers in front of them. Kyle’s and Andy’s heads nearly touched as they bent over the instruments and spoke insistently to the tower over the radio.

I pulled my headphones off and asked what was wrong. They did not even acknowledge my question. Without my headphones on, I heard Kyle speaking loudly over the noise of the plane, asking the tower if they could see our landing gear. Apparently, the indicator that shows when your landing gear is down and locked was not lighting up. A realization crept up my spine like a tarantula. I was flying on an airplane, and there was a mechanical problem that could actually cause us to crash. Fear had just become the fifth passenger in that plane, and it was sitting on my lap, leaning like a 1000-pound weight against my chest.

As if we weren’t in enough trouble already, my quiet panic was compounded by the fact that Catalina Island is notoriously dangerous to fly into, even in the best of circumstances. Known as the Airport in the Sky, Catalina’s airstrip is short and has steep cliff drop-offs on three sides. It is regularly included on various lists of the most dangerous airports in the world. You get one shot at landing on that island, and you’d better know what you are doing. The joyful feeling of being an indestructible nineteen-year-old was gone. I felt small and scared, and I kept forgetting to breathe.

My thoughts came as fragmented imaginations that jumped from seeing body parts strewn along the rocky landscape below us to visions of the fiery aftermath of our broken airplane. I shook them from my mind and saw that we were taking a low pass over the tower so they could get a look at our gear. Your wheels are down, but I cannot confirm that they are locked, came the crackled response in that annoyingly calm air traffic controller voice. We had to prepare for the possibility that the landing gear would fold under the plane as we landed, and we all knew there wasn’t enough runway to slide in safely, even if we managed to stay steady on the belly of the plane. Kyle took a wide turn around the airport and pointed us toward the strip. He looked over his shoulder at us and gave what I think was meant to be a reassuring smile. To me, he just looked like a terrified kid who was out of his depth.

As he aimed the plane for the runway, and it began to draw near, I had the surreal experience of feeling like I was watching a movie, wondering how the script would read. Would the plane crash land and dramatically slide to a halt inches from a cliff, or did the writers have something more sinister in mind? I told myself to close my eyes, but somehow they stayed stubbornly fixed on the runway until we were just above it. Then, without warning, we dropped like a rock and hit the asphalt hard. I felt my teeth rattle as the unexpected impact jarred my body, and I heard Carrie’s scream, an echo of my own. We bounced off the short runway. Kyle knew we didn’t have the length for a second attempt, so he gunned the engine and pulled up hard. We needed to gain altitude fast, so as Kyle pulled on the yoke, we collectively willed the little plane to climb and not stall out. But climb it did, like the little engine that could, and in a few seconds, we were once again flying through the perfect sky as if we hadn’t almost just been in a plane crash.

Nobody spoke as we allowed our brains to process the pure insanity of the last 90 seconds. When the radio crackled back to life, the tower quipped, Well, that is one way to check if your gear is locked. I suddenly felt hysterical laughter begin to bubble up inside of me, but I had the good sense to swallow it. We weren’t on the ground yet, and the runway was not any less dangerous than it had been two minutes ago. But then, like magic, Kyle greased us onto the runway like an old pro, and we were safely on the ground. I remember noticing how the knowledge that we were out of danger did not keep the adrenaline from coursing through my veins and causing my limbs to throb and ache.

Climbing out of the plane on watery legs, I was absently aware of the oppressive heat radiating up from the tarmac and of the ripples of shaky laughter rising from my friends’ conversation. Soon a crescendo of excited chatter, the kind that naturally follows a crazy shared experience like the one we had all just been through, began to swell. I found myself unable to participate because one thought was screaming through my brain, We have to get back in that death-trap and fly home in six hours! As the terror of that idea slowly squeezed my lungs shut, an understanding began to wash over me; fear had also stepped off the plane and draped a heavy arm over my shoulders as it fell in step next to me. What I didn’t yet know, and could never have imagined, is that for the next 25 years, the fear of flying would bully me into believing that we were inexorably intertwined. A constant, unwelcome companion, I wore fear like a thick, heavy parka on a trek through the desert for decades, until another dramatic moment in my life revealed fear for the liar it is. It took many years of both difficulty and discovery, but eventually, I learned one of the greatest secrets of my life—that I could shrug off that second-skin whenever I made up my mind to do it. I learned that fear could only operate in my life with my consent, and I learned how to take back control of my life.

INTRODUCTION

My name is Sandy Gledhill; I am imperfect and in process, and yet, I am living fully in my purpose. Contrary to popular belief, these things are not mutually exclusive. As an executive coach to many high performing professionals, I place a very high value on my clients leaning into their leadership calling, even as they acknowledge that they are a work in progress themselves. It is 100% okay to teach, train, model, and lead others while embracing the fact that you are still on your own journey of exploration and growth.

The whole world is talking about courage. Books have been written, Ted Talks memorized, courses offered, and speeches given on this important subject. I love courage, and I know that we all want to be people who take courageous action when it is necessary. But courage is about moving forward in the midst of fear, and I do not believe that repeatedly forcing yourself into fearful action is a sustainable long-term strategy. I want to talk about beating fear altogether. In this book, I plan to flip the script as we explore the topic of becoming fearless. Now, more than ever, the world needs the hope that fearlessness offers, as well as the tools necessary to move beyond courage and learn to live fearlessly. I have spent 20 years on a personal quest to overcome fear. I have learned that fearlessness is not only possible but that there are simple, practical action steps that can be taken to walk out of the bondage of fear and into the freedom of a life that has been liberated from the oppression and control of fear.

Fear entered my world when I was about seven years old. Lacking the weapons to fight and the language to ask for help, I let fear take up residence in my life and then stood idly by as it proceeded to invite about a thousand friends to join in. For decades, I was held hostage by the throng of fears that I had allowed to invade my precious, private space. Eventually, the fear created a double-mindedness