Fear Lied to Me — Until Ricky Williams Proved Otherwise

Ryan DeJonghe
Nov 24, 2025
4 min read

How street hypnosis, a football legend, and my own brush with death taught me the truth about fear.

The first wave of fear hit me somewhere between the rumble of city buses and the laughter of Yale students echoing off brick walls. Downtown New Haven—familiar and bustling—smelled of coffee and ambition that afternoon. And there I was, approaching strangers with a bold question: “Want to see a hypnosis demo? Oh, and mind if I film it for social media?”

My internal monologue wasn’t so confident. My pulse raced; my hands turned clammy. My brain spun tales of rejection, awkward stares, and maybe even security being called—a cascade of mini-disasters. Fear, wearing its modern suit, was tugging me backward.

Strange how our primal instincts can’t differentiate between a saber-toothed tiger and the chance of mild embarrassment. But I paused, took a breath, and reminded myself of three truths:

Mission: TranceWell.help doesn’t grow unless I do. Growth lives on the edge of discomfort.
Purpose: I want to show people their own power. Hypnosis isn’t about tricks—it’s about transformation.
Goal: A live hypnosis show on Dec 19 and 20, right here in New Haven. If I couldn’t face my own fear, how could I inspire others to conquer theirs?

Breathe. Step forward. Ask.

One person after another. “Hey—can I show you something about your mind?” Some laughed and said no, their eyes flickering with Netflix-fed skepticism. But others said yes, letting me guide them for a few brief, magic-filled moments. Fingers fused, names forgotten—mental marvels that left them surprised and delighted. With each interaction, I’d ask, “If your mind can stick your fingers together this easily, what could it help you unstick in your life?”

The reactions—eyes lighting up, jaws dropping into smiles—made every anxious moment worth it. They reminded me that fear’s voice is loudest right before a breakthrough.

But fear isn’t unique to street hypnosis or public speaking. It runs deeper.

Fear, Football, and Pain Transformed

If fear were a football, Ricky Williams wouldn’t have fumbled it. The Heisman winner wasn’t the fastest or strongest player on the field. His advantage? Something else entirely.

Ricky wasn’t afraid of pain—not the surface-level kind, but real, soul-deep pain. He had already endured the worst: a childhood of brutal abuse at the hands of his mother. After surviving that, being tackled by men twice his size was nothing. Once you’ve weathered your darkest storm, what’s left to fear? Practice? Game day? People shouting your name?

Not really.

Ricky didn’t let pain define him. He transformed it. He forgave his mother and turned those scars into resilience. As he once said, “We may not control our circumstances, but we do have the power to shape the context and perspective that define our reality.”

Reframing pain. That’s the key. And it’s not just for athletes.

On Dying, Transcending, and the Real Tiger

There’s one fear that dwarfs all others: death.

On February 19, 2011, my heart stopped. I collapsed—right in front of my four-year-old son. For a moment that stretched into eternity, I was gone. No white light, no celestial choir. Just silence—vast, peaceful, and infinite. It wasn’t frightening. It was a profound stillness, like remembering something I’d always known but had forgotten.

When I came back—gasping for air, dazed—I saw everything differently. Fear still visited me, but it wore a weaker disguise. What was a stranger’s judgment compared to the peace of that other place? The worst had already happened, and even in that moment, I had found something infinite: connection, tranquility.

Here’s the thing: you don’t have to die to experience this.

Hypnosis: Fear’s Antidote

This is why I’ve dedicated myself to hypnosis. Not because it’s a party trick (please, enough with the chicken clucking), but because it’s the closest everyday portal to that limitless space. Hypnosis quiets the fear-driven conscious mind and lets the subconscious step forward to whisper, “You’re more than you think.”

We let painful memories define us. We build walls of fear to keep out imagined threats. But the subconscious isn’t cruel—it’s protective, like a guard dog that doesn’t realize the danger is long gone. Hypnosis lets us rewrite its orders: “Stand down. The tiger is gone. I’m safe.”

It allows us to:

Reframe harmful beliefs,
Release the grip of old trauma,
And step into challenges not as prey, but as explorers.

It’s not about erasing the past. It’s about freeing ourselves to move beyond it.

Fear’s Secret: A Doorway to Growth

Street hypnosis wasn’t just about finger fusions or viral videos. It was a metaphor: Fear is the signal that you’re standing at the edge of transformation.

Every rejection wasn’t failure—it was practice. Every moment of anxiety reminded me that I was alive, growing, and learning. Like Ricky Williams bulldozing through defenders or a father gasping back to life, my battle with fear became an act of transformation.

We can’t choose every challenge. Pain and fear will find us. But we can choose our response. We can reshape fear into a tool for growth. And we can let it show us the crack where the light gets in.

The next time your heart races and your mind conjures tigers, pause. Ask yourself what waits on the other side of fear. Because that’s where the best version of you is always waiting.

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