Fear

Fear of Falling: When Did We Lose Our Nerve?

Think back to being a kid. You didn’t “train” to fall, you just did. You wiped out on your bike, tumbled in the grass, slipped on the ice, crashed mid soccer game, and got right back up. Falling wasn’t failure. It was part of the experience. It was how you learned where your edges were.

Somewhere along the way, that changed.

As I enter the last year of my 50s, I notice how often the thought of falling crosses my mind. Not in a dramatic way, just a quiet awareness that wasn’t there before. And I’m not alone.

The reality is, falling becomes more common as we age:

• About 1 in 4 adults over 65 falls each year

• Falls are the leading cause of injury in older adults

• Risk increases with changes in balance, strength, vision, and reaction time

• Often it is not the fall itself, but the fear of falling again, that leads people to move less and lose confidence

Recently, I was diagnosed with osteopenia. It was not entirely surprising, but it sharpened my awareness. Bone health, balance, and strength are no longer abstract ideas. They matter in a very real way.

When I talked with both my primary care physician and my OBGYN, their advice was simple and consistent. Keep doing your yoga. Not just for strength or flexibility, but because of what it teaches underneath all of that. Balance. Awareness. And something we do not talk about enough, how to prevent a fall and if you do fall, how to land.

Relearning What We Once Knew

The shift back to confidence is not complicated, but it does require intention. In yoga, we practice this every time we step on the mat.

• If you want to feel steadier, you have to explore where you are unsteady.

• If you want to take risks, you have to move into shapes that feel unfamiliar.

• If you want to grow, you have to be willing to wobble, adjust, and try again.

I noticed this in myself on a recent hike. The terrain was not extreme, but it was uneven enough to catch my attention. I felt my body tighten almost immediately, bracing, gripping, trying to control every step. My mind jumped ahead to all the ways it could go wrong. I held the stress in my body instead of moving with the ground beneath me.

And then I caught myself. What was the worst case scenario here, aside from falling off a cliff. Most likely, I would stumble. Maybe fall. And then get back up. That realization shifted something. My first instinct used to be to avoid the fall at all costs. Now it is starting to become, what if falling is not the worst case scenario?

That shift does not come from thinking differently. It comes from practice. From putting your body in situations where you lose balance, adjust, and recover. From experiencing the ground instead of fearing it.

That kind of practice might look like:

• Exploring balance right up to the tipping point
  (Tree Pose or Vrksasana, finding steadiness through the wobble)

• Learning how to roll instead of brace
  (Forward Fold to a soft squat or gentle somersault variations, yielding instead of resisting)

• Moving from the floor to standing and back again
  (Yogi squat or Malasana to standing transitions, building familiarity with level changes)

• Challenging stability through single leg work and lateral movement
  (Warrior III or Virabhadrasana III, strength, balance, and control on one leg)

• Building control in transitions, not just stillness
  (Flowing from Warrior II to Half Moon or Ardha Chandrasana, finding balance while moving through space)

When falling becomes something you have experienced, not avoided, it loses its charge. It stops feeling like a threat, and starts feeling like something your body already knows how to handle.

What Yoga Teaches Us About Falling

In yoga, we often think balance means stillness. Holding the pose. Locking it in. But the real value is in the wobble. Every small adjustment you make when you are off center is your body learning how to recover:

• Faster reflexes

• Better coordination

• Stronger core engagement

• Improved awareness of where you are in space

That is what helps prevent injury, not perfection, but responsiveness.

I see this clearly in poses like Crow. The moment your face gets close to the ground, hesitation kicks in. The fear of tipping forward stops people before they even find the balance point. But what would actually happen if you did tip?

The same is true with bigger, more disorienting poses like handstand. Being upside down challenges your sense of orientation. That unfamiliarity often shows up as anxiety, not because you are incapable, but because you have not spent time there. (and let me be honest here. Handstand scares me. Yes, it is true. I fear the fall and that anxiety, combined with weak core engagement, prevents me from going up unassisted.)

Practicing Getting Back Up

One of the simplest and most telling things we practice in class is getting up off the floor without using your hands. It is harder than it sounds and incredibly important. Because as we age, the ability to get off the ground independently is closely tied to confidence and autonomy.

What I notice is this:

• The people who move without overthinking, who rock, shift, and commit, often make it up

• The ones who hesitate, pause, and second guess tend to reach for the floor with their hands

It is not just strength. It is trust. Familiarity. Willingness to move through the moment.

Maybe It Is Not About Avoiding the Fall

The fear of falling, failing, or taking risks often has less to do with the outcome and more to do with how unfamiliar it feels. As kids, we lived in that space constantly. As adults, we have drifted away from it. But the good news is, it is trainable.

You can rebuild:

• Your comfort with the ground

• Your ability to recover

• Your confidence in your body

Not by avoiding the fall, but by changing your relationship to it. Because maybe the goal is not to never fall. Maybe it is to trust that if you do, you will know what to do next.