Ahh Haaaaa

I had an epiphany the other day in regards to my fear of heights. In one brief, abstract moment I realized where my fear originated from--and it all can be blamed on Karl Wallenda and his high wire act.

On March 22, 1978, Karl Wallenda was in Puerto Rico doing what he had done since he was six years old--performing. As cameras were recording his sauntering on a high wire, 120 some odd feet in the air with no net, the 73-year-old slipped and fell to his death.

I was watching it. I can still see him swaying in the wind. Apparently, the video is still out in the Internet for those who've never seen it. I can't rewatch it. Once was enough.

From that point on, I feared heights. When I was a kid I would climb onto things and not be afraid at all. From 1978 on, that wasn't the case. Just the thought of it even now gives me the willies.

I'm thinking that was the first video I've seen that showed a real person dying. I had blocked that out all these years and boom, out it slips when I least expected it.

Funny how the mind works.

Over the years, I've tried to face my fear of heights. I even went up in a hot air balloon for a newspaper story I was writing. Somehow, I survived. Don't ask me how. The first 100 feet were okay, but after that I froze up. At one point, I had take photos and I had the hardest time removing my hands from the sides of the basket to focus the camera. My mind said move, but my body said, "Hell, no."

I've had panic attacks at two specific landmarks--Moro Rock in the Sequoia National Park and the Grand Canyon.

Moro Rock is a landmark where can you can hike up to and actually walk around the rock. We visited the park in 1990, and my sons were young enough to freak me out as they ran ahead us wherever we walked. I held Jared's hand as we climbed the stairs. Just looking around at the view I started hyperventalating. I held onto my son and tried not to picture my oldest son, Jason, running ahead with his Father, and accidentally falling off the rock. The safety bars surrounding the walkway were a joke. I am amazed more kids don't fall off that mountain.



We visited the Grand Canyon in 2006, during our move to Texas. My husband, two sons, and one dog stopped long enough to check out the view. Me, I got dizzy as we walked toward the edge of the viewing area. Jerry, the boys and even the dog were having a good, old time. Me? My head began to swim and my knees began knocking. I just couldn't handle walking to the edge.

The vastness of the Grand Canyon scared the living heck out of me. It's so, so big!



Now, I can barely hang Christmas lights on the house. I don't think there is any cure for this.

I blame Karl.

Fear

It was my junior year of high school when I decided I wasn't going to let fear stop me from having fun. So many times I wanted to do things--everything from dating to joining a club--but I didn't because I was afraid. I was so shy and I was so worried about looking stupid and not fitting in. So I did nothing. What a waste it was.

In my junior year I was tired of being alone. I had acquaintances, but no real close friends in high school. It wasn't until the summer before my junior year that I felt enough was enough. When school started I joined every club I could--Ghost Towners, Skating, and Wrestlerettes. I socialized even though it was literally painful for me to do it. I'm hearing impaired so social situations have always been hard for me. Having to wear hearing aids made my life easier in some ways, but way harder in other ways. I've always felt I was an outsider, never fitting in because I was different.

I went to meetings, I talked to people and, yes, I became a cheerleader for the wrestling team. lol For an extremely shy person like myself that was the hardest thing I have ever done. We had to perform in front of people. In front of teenagers. Ughhh. I would get physically ill beforehand. But I made myself do it. I was also around guys more and I really tried to get over my fears of interacting with them, but it was hard. I could talk to them, but I did more daydreaming about relationships than actually having any.

In my junior year, I had a major crush on one particular boy--John. He was so handsome, so intelligent; he was on the wrestling and football team. He was always sweet to me if we interacted. But I let my shyness stop me from trying to get to know him better. He was out of my league. Man, if I only knew then what I know now. :)

In my senior year, I would go to soccer games to watch a guy who I thought was really cute. I kept to myself, until one game I met another girl doing the same thing I was--watching the guys play. We starting talking and once we realized we weren't panting over the same guy we became friends. Ellen was one year behind me in high school, but light-years ahead of me with her confidence.

I was still on my kick to face my fears, sometimes succeeding (I went on a date with a classmate) and sometimes failing (never went to any school dances, not even the prom). I drug poor Ellen to the movies with me--I was afraid of horror movies so I was determined to make myself watch them. (She walked out of a movie that had something to do with the devil). I joined her in the lobby soon after. Yes, I chickened out.

Ellen was and is good for me. Yes, after all these years we are still best friends and even live in the same town. She double-dog dared me so many times and made me do things. Of course, I double-dog dared her, too. She NEVER backed down from a dare. What did I expect from a natural redhead of an Episcopalian minister? We did some wild things that only we know about.

We haven't even told our husbands about most of the escapades we experienced. I know a few had to have been slightly illegal. lol Our Virginia City saloon gal photos was one of our trips. I alway had and have fun with Ellen. And I won't mention anything about Lake Tahoe, her parent's condo and some vodka. To this day, I still can't drink Screwdrivers.

I wish I would have met her sooner in high school. My high school years would have been more memorable than they were.

Face those fears, people. Even if they scare the hell out of you, it's worth facing them. Too bad we don't get do-overs.

Where did this come from?

It seems as I get older I have new things appear that I never had before. And I don't mean gray hair. lol I suddenly realize I really don't like heights. They weren't my favorite growing up, but I never let it stop me from doing things. I got into a small plane with my aunt as a pilot. Trust me, if that's not stupid faith, I don't know what is. (You had to have known my aunt).

I easily climbed walls, roofs, trees and such. But as the years went by I became more afraid. For work, I went up in a hot air balloon, 1,500 feet in the air. There was nothing between me and the ground but a small piece of plywood. No parachute, no safety belt--nothing. I still managed to function, albeit a bit slower.

Three years ago, when we visited the Grand Canyon, it took all my will power to walk to the path to the viewing area. Jerry and the boys were fine. They laughed, pointed and enjoyed themselves. Me? I found I couldn't catch my breath. I became dizzy. I was experiencing a panic attack. The vastness of the Grand Canyon blew me away. Have you seen it in person? It's flipping huge. There is so much.... space, it's completely overwhelming.

And last year when I climbed onto our roof to help put on the Christmas lights I felt the icy cold breathe of fear. My knees shook and I leaned over to clip the lights in under the shingles. I felt if I leaned just one more inch over to adjust the lights I was going to fall on my head. I'm going. I'm a goner.

I hurried up and as I slid over to the ladder to get down I realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't step onto the ladder. My legs felt like Jell-O. I was shaking so hard. I sat there on the roof and realized I was going to be there all night. I told Jerry I couldn't do it. "Come on down," he urged. "You can do it."

"No. I can't." I wanted him to go inside and open up the guest bedroom's window so I could crawl into it into the house. But Jerry chided me to climb down the ladder. As he held it, I finally climbed down.

I'm not going up there this year if I can help it. I don't want Jerry going up there either. If I do go up, I'm coming down via the bedroom window. No more downward ladder exits for me.

Just the thought of going up there gives me gray hairs.