I find it very hard to wrap my mind around being worried about flying. No effort is necessary, no getting-it-right. One need only sit there and flip through a magazine. To understand that kind of fear, I need the sharp memory of some of my own kinds of nervousness: about entertaining, or being a house guest, or steering someone wrong somehow. Those are stupid fears, the first two anyway.
We all manage to do and finally enjoy things we're scared of. It's a triumph we ought to give ourselves credit for. And it's a marvel and a delight how differently we're each put together.