1/27/2026: Afraid Not, or a Frayed Knot?

Afraid Not, or a Frayed Knot?

Fear often gets a good reputation. In many cases, it deserves one. Fear can keep us safe—it helps us avoid situations that are genuinely dangerous. We want children to have a healthy respect for fire, moving cars, or a rough ocean. Touch a scalding surface or get bitten by an animal once, and you’re likely to be more cautious going forward. Sometimes, though, those fears can harden into phobias. And that raises an important question: are fears always protective?

After my recent fall and fractured arm, I’ll admit I felt more vulnerable. Every time I come down the stairs where I slipped, I’m acutely aware of the exact step it happened on. A small pang of anxiety still creeps in. But if I avoid those stairs—or change how I move through them—does that actually protect me?

In my professional experience, I’ve seen the profound repercussions of fear, particularly as people age. Older adults are frequently warned about falls, injuries, fractures, disability, and even death. While these warnings may be well intentioned, they aren’t always helpful. In fact, research suggests the opposite. Self-imposed limitations often accelerate decline. So the question becomes: do our abilities decline because we age, or do we age because we gradually stop doing things?

Counterintuitively, higher scores on the Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire (FABQ)—a tool commonly used in physical therapy—are associated with worse outcomes. Greater fear correlates with higher levels of disability, more persistent pain, and, especially in older adults, an increased risk of falling. In other words, the more fearful someone is, the more likely they are to be injured in the future

This doesn’t mean we should be reckless. But it does mean we should challenge ourselves beyond our comfort zones. Progress requires calculated, realistic risk. Avoidance may feel safe in the short term, but it often undermines resilience and recovery over time.

I cannot allow my accident, my injury, or my age to define me. I cannot fear decline.

I must decline to fear. I must decline to avoid it.

So I face the stairs. I walk on uneven ground. I challenge the unstable surface—again and again—until both my mind and my body relearn confidence. This is how I heal. This is how I reclaim quality of life.