I’m acquainted with a very famous person.
We’ve known each other for many years. We’ve rung in multiple New Year’s Eves together, renting a secluded house in the mountains with a small group of friends. We’ve shared long dinners, deep conversations, and the kind of moments that usually lead to friendship.
But with Ted (not his real name), it hasn’t.
Ted’s fame has created a unique dynamic—one that’s fascinating, and at times, heartbreaking. Let’s dive in, because there’s a lesson here for all of us.
The Fortress
When you’re famous, many people want things from you. They want to bask in your glow, feel important by association, or leverage your platform for their own gain. This was true for Ted, and over time, he built walls around himself to keep himself emotionally safe. On the surface, doing so is a natural response to this constant barrage of requests.
But here’s the twist: the fortress he created has become his prison.
A fear that all people have ulterior motives has caused Ted to behave in ways that make genuine connection nearly impossible. If you want to try and develop a deeper relationship with him, you have to be willing to scale these towering walls—and you may never make it over the top.
Friendship, for Ted, isn’t the natural balance of two people offering honesty, trust, and care. It’s tilted. He’s created hurdles for those around him—strange hoops to jump through that demand contortion. And when one side of a relationship is constantly struggling up a wall or contorting themselves to show up in the “right way”, you have to ask: what’s their motive to stay?
Ironically, Ted’s actions to prevent exploitation make him more likely to attract people with ulterior motives. His fear has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Watching Ted navigate his relationships is like watching fear play out in slow motion. But here’s the thing: this pattern isn’t unique to Ted or fame. It’s something we all do in different ways.
Fear-driven behavior often brings our fears to life.
Take the professional who’s afraid that they are unqualified for their new role. To avoid judgment they stay quiet in meetings, but then no one gets to hear their ideas. By choosing silence they show up as less than themself, reinforcing their fear of inadequacy.
Or the parent who believes a “good” mom knows everything about her child. She’s so afraid of asking questions (because that would mean admitting she doesn’t know) that she stops having genuine conversations with her child altogether. The distance grows, and the connection she’s trying to protect erodes.
Fear builds walls. Ironically, in many cases, our fear-based actions create the very isolation, rejection, or disconnection we’re trying to avoid.
I hope that one day Ted gets tired of living in his fortress. I hope he takes a risk and starts dismantling those walls.
Now, here’s my invitation to you:
Think about the fears that weigh heaviest on your heart. Are you afraid of being unworthy, unseen, or disconnected? Then take a step back and ask yourself:
How might you be acting to protect yourself from that fear?
And how might those actions be bringing that fear to life?
You don’t have to live imprisoned by fear. You can dismantle the fortress. Brick by brick, step by step, you can create a life where connection and authenticity flow freely—no scaling of walls required.
