It's okay to be scared—and admit it.

Nobody like to talk about being scared. Is that because we don’t think we are supposed to be scared anymore, now that we’re all grown up?

When we were little, it was okay to admit something might be hiding underneath the bed. Or the Ferris wheel was just a bit too high for our liking. Or that weird-looking insect that just jumped on our leg made us feel uneasy.

But what about now? Especially since as boomers and beyond, our fears are usually a whole lot more menacing….

Cancer. Bankruptcy. Losing a spouse. Surgery. No retirement fund. Nephews, nieces, and grandchildren serving in combat.

Dying.

I doubt if anyone enjoys being scared, but I can’t believe we don’t all share that emotion from time to time. And it’s sneaky. We think we’re mad because the traffic is slow, or the dog just ate the newspaper, or our boss just asked us to do the impossible. When really, deep down, we’re afraid.

Afraid we can’t handle it. Afraid we’ll look bad. Afraid we’ll fail.

It always reminds me of the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. First there’s one. Then another one shows up. Then all of a sudden they are everywhere, swooping down and carrying me off to the land of despair. What began as a simple worry can escalate to global termination if I’m not careful. Why is that?

I don’t want to give fear that much power over me. I’m amazed how it can make my stomach queasy. Give me dry mouth. Make me feel tense and rigid. It messes with my mind and my composure. It’s one thing if you are literally staring at your fear—say, a hungry mountain lion. But it’s another when you know your mind has latched on to some worry and has inflated it to such levels that you can’t think straight.

So you stop. Take a breath. Pray to your guardian angel to lend a hand.

Try not to get on the phone and chew out some unsuspecting telemarketer.

Years ago, I was in Yosemite National Park, and was challenged to walk up a very steep rock (shaped like a giant mound, but high enough to make me nervous). I’m not a fan of heights. I can tell myself everything’s okay, but I still feel my heart racing and my stomach talking to me. But I trudged on, because another person volunteered to hold on…and gave me some advice. He suggested I just stand still and feel all the fear and let it wrap around me, then take another step, and another. I did so.

I confess it did help, though I won’t say I’m not scared of heights anymore. Still, sometimes I call upon that advice when other, more threatening fears appear on the horizon.

Like waiting on lab test results. Or wondering if I made a wrong turn when mapping out my life.

Maybe some day I won’t be afraid. But for now, I’m going to cut myself some slack and hope others do the same for themselves. Emotions are supposed to be felt. Even fear is telling us something.

It reminds us we are alive. And no matter what our age, we’re still very young spirits.