We are not defined by our fears, but I believe they cut to the core of our being in a way that most other feelings do not. I’ve asked complete strangers to share their fears and be photographed. For some, the experience was cathartic.

I spent several years struggling to extricate myself from a bad relationship and subsequent break-ins to my home, round the clock harassment and stalking that even extended to other countries. I had to call the police repeatedly and file restraining orders, but these steps were undermined by wavering resolve. I was constantly wary of my surroundings, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Yet I kept it hidden. I was too embarrassed to share my situation with anyone, afraid of what they would think, afraid it would damage me professionally. The longer it continued, the more ashamed I became, leading to further isolation. It made me wonder what others were hiding, what kept them awake, what they were afraid to tell anyone for fear of repercussions. I knew from experience how well a facade can be maintained, that we cannot trust what we see.

Our fears are held closely, and the experience of them is intensely personal and often isolating. This series examines the dichotomy between our who we are and who we appear to be, of how little we know of those around us and what they carry.