Once again, I am sitting in one of my happiest little rooms: my closet. There is my little green ladder that I climb when I want to reach the treasures tucked up high, where I have archived so many pieces of my life. And among those treasures are my archives with handles: my handbags. Lately, as I think about overcoming fear after 50, I realize these handbags hold more than memories. They remind me of all the places I went, the chances I took, and the times I moved forward even when I could not predict what would happen next.

I have collected them over a lifetime. Each one holds a chapter. There are beautiful bags I simply had to have, serious bags for serious occasions, whimsical bags because they piqued my fancy and made me smile, and handbags my Ultimate Concierge personally chose for me that are filled with loving memories. There are travel bags that carried all of “my stuff” through Paris, Israel, India, Russia, Bali, Africa, Antarctica, and places I once could never have imagined visiting.

They remind me of dinners I dressed for, gifts I received, indulgences I allowed myself, journeys I took, and different versions of the woman I have been. I have always loved handbags, not simply because of their flair but because of what they represented. A handbag could change an outfit, announce a mood, and somehow make me feel ready for whatever the day might bring. Some are practical. Some are extravagant. Some were simply too irresistible not to own.

But looking at them today, I realize something else. My handbags remind me that life is meant to be traveled, even when the road ahead is uncertain. Fear may come along for the ride, but it should never be allowed to choose our destination. That lesson has become particularly meaningful to me as I think about overcoming fear after 50 and, in my case, overcoming fears I never expected to face at this stage of my life.

Overcoming Fear After 50 When Life Became Smaller

For the past three years, I have stopped using many of the possessions I once loved. My clothes, shoes, handbags, and accessories remained patiently in my closet while my world became smaller and more homebound as I cared for my Ultimate Concierge through vascular dementia.

Now, I stand inside my closet looking at these old companions differently. I climb my little green ladder, reach for a handbag, and suddenly I am no longer standing inside my apartment in the sky. I am somewhere else. Paris. A dinner. A journey. A beautiful moment with my Ultimate Concierge. A woman I used to be.

And that is when I realized I am not really deciding which handbags to keep and which to give away. I am deciding which pieces of my life still belong to me. I never thought of my handbags as trophies. They were passports. Each one seems stamped with a message about the woman I was when I carried her. From the young girl who grew up in what I lovingly call Kankakee by the Sea to the worldly woman I eventually became, my purses are little diaries. Each tells a piece of my story.

My Handbags Are Proof That Fear Never Won

As I gaze at my collection, I realize something else about myself: I have rarely allowed fear to make important decisions for me. Was I afraid at times? Of course. I am human. But when fear of the unknown entered my mind, I learned to shift my thinking toward what a new situation might teach me, how it might enlighten me, and sometimes even how it might save me.

Fear came along, certainly, but I never wanted it to stop me from packing my handbag with possibilities. A new place? Put the passport in. A new friendship? Take my red lipstick. A difficult conversation? Pack courage. A life I never expected? Fill the bag with as much joy and curiosity as possible.

Darling, even my tiniest purses hold powerful truths. Sometimes when I look at all of my handbags lined up together, I realize I am looking at a collection of myself.

The young woman.
The wife.
The mother.
The widow.
The cancer survivor.
The grandmother.
The author.
The girlfriend.
The career woman.
The world traveler.
Florence Nightingale.
The woman who had to begin again.
And the woman who somehow keeps going.

Those handbags are proof that I had the courage and desire to keep growing, even when I could not predict the outcome. They remind me that my life became larger every time I said yes to something that fed my soul. They are proof that uncertainty did not destroy me, that I could walk into a room where I knew no one and still find my way, and that I could lose someone precious and still discover another chapter. Fear has been present at different moments throughout my life, but I have never allowed it to own me.

Overcoming Fear After 50 Does Not Mean Becoming Fearless

My little green ladder has become a symbol, too. Its steps remind me to climb because there is always something I have not reached yet. My handbags symbolize movement. Another adventure. Another person to meet. Another idea or lesson. Even a disappointment can be packed away as something learned and never forgotten.

My handbags are small, beautiful declarations of freedom. When I choose what to carry, I am also choosing what I want to bring into the day: confidence, curiosity, and the willingness to meet life as it comes. Women of every age possess more strength than they sometimes realize, yet so many of us carry unnecessary fears about life’s unknowns.

That is why I want to make one distinction very clear. Overcoming fear after 50 does not mean becoming fearless. Fear is not necessarily something you eliminate. It is something you learn to put in its proper place. The goal is to become the woman who can feel fear and still move. That is courage.

Fear Was Never My Stop Sign

Honestly, the word fear has always been near the bottom of my vocabulary. I have never wanted to allow an opportunity to pass simply because I might fail or because I was afraid of what I might discover. After writing authentically for more than ten years, I have learned a tremendous amount about my own feelings, my fabulous family, the women in my life, and my relationship with fear.

Several years into writing HoneyGood.com, I had an aha moment. Through my journaling and authentic writing, I had unintentionally become my own shrink, and Darling, I think I became a pretty good one! Writing forced me to look at myself. And somewhere in all those words, I began to understand where my resilience came from. Growing up in my small town of Kankakee by the Sea was one of the greatest mentorship experiences of my life. I was Jewish in a community where I was part of a religious minority, and I came from a financially privileged family in a largely blue-collar town. I was different. And being different taught me how to survive.

Resilience gave me positive inner power. Sure, there were times I was afraid, but I persevered. Rather than becoming a shrinking violet because I was different from many of my contemporaries, I learned a lesson that has served me throughout my life:

Fear should never be my stop sign.

Courage replaced retreat. I spoke up. I remained curious. I tried new endeavors instead of sitting safely on the sidelines. The little girl who learns resilience can grow into a woman who is willing to open doors, change direction, make mistakes, and discover what life has to offer. For that lesson, I thank you, Kankakee by the Sea.

 

The Lessons I Packed From Childhood

As a young girl, I went to Friday night Mass with my Catholic friends. Their religion did not frighten me or make me hide mine. I wanted to understand their beliefs, and I wanted them to understand and respect mine. I learned to get along with classmates from different backgrounds and lifestyles. Those experiences taught me confidence, tact, adaptability, curiosity, and open-mindedness.

Difference became an opportunity to learn rather than a reason to retreat. Even today, when I walk out the door carrying one of my handbags, somewhere inside me I am carrying the lessons I learned during those first eighteen years in Kankakee by the Sea. I believe growing up the easy way is not always the best way. Hardships, differences, and uncomfortable experiences can produce wonderful qualities in the human spirit if we allow them to.

Don’t Give Fear Your Future

Too many women allow fear to stop them from reaching their goals and finding their ultimate joy. They settle comfortably into the passenger seat instead of taking the wheel of a life well lived. Fear always has a list of reasons not to try.

What if I fail?

What if they don’t like me?

What if I embarrass myself?

What if I go alone?

What if something goes wrong?

I have another question…

What if something wonderful happens?

My advice is to take the thoughtful risk and push go. Keep driving. Do not allow fear to overpower your curiosity, stifle your ambition, or steal the joy of accomplishment merely because the unknown makes you uneasy. Some of the finest chapters of your life begin with a door you are not entirely sure you should open. When you leave your home and your comfort zone, pack your handbag with positivity. Then bring it home again carrying something new. A new experience, telephone number, idea, story, lesson or memory. Fill it up! You are in the driver’s seat of your life. Fear may make you hesitate, but it should not make your decisions. Feel the fear. Let it walk beside you. Then remind it that you chose the direction.

The Life I Would Have Missed

If I had allowed fear to stop me, I would never have moved my family to Honolulu, Hawaii. What an extraordinary, international life my children and I experienced there. If fear had prevented me from listening to unexpected advice, my cancer story might have unfolded very differently.

I might never have become a writer.

I might never have written a book.

I might never have served as Women’s Division Chairman for the State of Hawaii.

I might never have traveled the world to places as unique as Iran and Syria.

I certainly would not have picked up the telephone, called the national headquarters of ZOA after hearing a speech, and eventually found myself sitting on its National Board and founding ZOA Women. So many pieces of my life began because I was willing to make one move before knowing exactly where that move would take me. Be your own trailblazer.

There is great satisfaction in looking back and knowing you did not spend your life sitting safely on the sidelines. Pack your handbag with confidence and soar. And please understand that I was afraid while pursuing many of these experiences. Courage and fear can exist at the same time. I still feel afraid when I drive to the hospital for my CAT scans. I have been doing it for seventeen years. But if I had allowed fear of tests, surgeries, or frightening news to control me, I would have failed to take care of myself. That is why I say: do not let fear own you.

How I Put Fear in Its Proper Place

Overcoming fear after 50, or at any age, often begins with changing how you speak to yourself. These are some of the lessons that have worked for me.

Name the Fear

Do not simply say, “I am afraid.” Name it. “I am afraid I will fail if I begin this project.” When you name the fear, you can examine it. An unnamed fear can become a monster in your imagination. A specific fear becomes something you can look at and decide how to handle. Do not let fear become the monster making your decisions, or you may spend your entire life walking in place with an empty handbag.

Ask: What Is the Worst Realistic Outcome?

Fear loves an undefined future. The more specific you become, the smaller fear often becomes. Ask yourself what could realistically happen. Then distinguish between genuine danger and plain old discomfort. They are not the same thing.

Start Doing Something Uncomfortable

Make the phone call. Go somewhere alone. Introduce yourself. Wear the dress. Ask the question. Put on your red lipstick. Make the doctor’s appointment. Take the trip. Join the group. Small acts of courage teach you that you are capable. And, naturally, take a beautiful, fun, or practical handbag along for the ride.

Stop Waiting to Become Confident

Delve in. Just do it. Replace what if with why not? “What if I fail?” becomes “Why not try?” “What if they don’t like me?” becomes “Why shouldn’t I meet them?” That simple shift changes the direction of your mind. Confidence is not always the entrance ticket. Very often, confidence is the receipt you receive afterward.

Separate Danger From Discomfort

Fear has a purpose. It can protect us from genuine danger. But starting a new project is usually not dangerous. Learning a sport is not dangerous. Joining a new group is not dangerous. Beginning a new career is not dangerous. Walking into a room where you know no one may feel uncomfortable, but discomfort and danger are very different things. Learn the difference.

Choose Curiosity Over Prediction

Rather than trying to predict everything that could go wrong, ask yourself: I wonder what will happen if I try? Too many women fear looking foolish more than they fear missing the experience. Don’t become stagnant because you want certainty. Be a woman who moves.

My Rule: Fear Gets a Voice, Not a Vote

Fear can speak. I will listen. But fear does not get to run my life. Keep expanding your world with new people, books, places, experiences, ideas, and questions. Speak up when something matters to you. Walk away from circumstances that continually make you miserable. When misery becomes the loudest voice in the room, grab your handbag and head for the door. I am doing some of that in my own life as I write this. More on that another day.

Be Willing to Be a Beginner

It is excellent therapy to be a beginner. You do not need to know exactly what you are doing before you begin. Learn as you go. That is often the exhilarating part. Fear sometimes disguises itself as the belief that you need to have every answer before taking your first step. You don’t. Courage rarely arrives before the action. Action invites courage to join you.

The Handbags That Carry My Memories

I would be remiss if I wrote an entire Sunday Story about handbags without telling you a few of their stories. I climb my little green ladder and reach for one of my favorites, a Chanel backpack that is thirty-five years old. It was the first bag I bought after marrying my Ultimate Concierge, and I wore it again recently. I love her as much today as I did then.

That backpack traveled everywhere with us. I filled it with maps, snacks, my passport, red lipstick, and the excitement of not knowing exactly what would happen next. She came with me to Rwanda, where we spent time near the silverback gorillas. She traveled to Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Syria. I carried her while wandering through bazaars, meeting people, learning about cultures entirely different from my own, and experiencing worlds I had previously only read about.

Did I know exactly what each day would bring? No. That was part of the magic. Then there are my totes. I take them to the market and fill them with orchids that remind me of my wonderful life in Honolulu. Fresh bread goes in. Vegetables. And, naturally, some new cheese I have decided I must try. Those totes remind me that life is not built only around enormous adventures. It is also built around small pleasures.

A Handbag for Every Chapter

Then there is the structured day bag I carried when I was traveling, working, and moving through the world with purpose. Inside one, I might still find an old red lipstick, a forgotten receipt from the Regency Hotel, or a reminder of our beloved La Grenouille. Suddenly, I can see myself hurrying through New York, confident there would always be another adventure, another luncheon, another appointment, another person to meet, another place to go.

And tucked away in a drawer are my little evening bags. They are small, delicate, some covered in beautiful fabrics. I remember carrying them to dinners, celebrations, and black-tie events as I entered a room on the arm of my Ultimate Concierge. His inner strength made me feel fearless.

When Fear Finally Felt Different

And then life changed. My world became smaller. And with that smaller world came fears I had not known before. I was afraid to travel on my own, drive at night without my Ultimate Concierge beside me and to make plans that would take me too far away from him.

I was afraid of becoming solely responsible for our finances, commitments, taxes, decisions, and the dozens of details he once handled with such ease. I was afraid because, in many ways, I suddenly felt alone. For the woman who spent a lifetime believing fear was near the bottom of her vocabulary, this was humbling.

But over the past three years, I have come to understand something important. Much of what I called fear was actually caution. It was responsibility. It was the enormous weight of knowing that the decisions were now mine to make. I had to learn how to become the Alpha without losing the woman I had always been. Little by little, I did. Today, I can climb my little green ladder and look at those handbags without seeing only the woman whose old life disappeared. I see evidence. Evidence that I have done difficult things before, entered unknown worlds, survived, learned, and found the courage to begin again.

 

Pack Your Handbag With Courage

My loneliness may never completely vanish. I know that. But I also know I will not allow fear to make me invisible. I intend to remain interested, curious, engaged and visible. I will continue climbing my little green ladder, reaching for another handbag, and reminding myself of the woman who carried it. And then I will step back down as the woman I am today.

Darling, step up to the plate in your own life. It does take courage and steadfastness. You do not have to become fearless. You simply have to stop giving fear the authority to make your choices. Pack your daily handbag with courage, curiosity, confidence, resilience, and hope. Leave a little room for your red lipstick. Then walk out the door. Fear can come along if it insists. But you choose the destination.

That is another way of saying: hope for a great today and an even greater tomorrow. And at this stage of my life, I still have places I intend to go. Amen.