I despise heights. Some may see this as an irrational fear, and
perhaps they’re right, but ridiculous or not, it freezes me up. It’s quite the hindrance to enjoying quite a
few things, as well, like walking along a street curb.
A couple of years ago, the girls
and I toured the St. Augustine Lighthouse, the first of many such excursions
they wish to take. Two hundred and fifty
tiny steps made out of metal with holes to enable you to see the plummeting
depth below you as you climb. The guard
rail was a thin metal bar I could easily wrap my fingers around. There was no safety there, really, except my
sense of survival, which kept me away from the edge. I made it to the top, however, I’m proud to
say, although the pace was slow and we were often passed by other tourists who
had no such fear of falling hundreds of feet to their death. I, on the other hand, have a deep respect for
gravity and took great, tedious care with each trembling step. The stairs had lasted over a century I was
assured, but with my luck they would pick that very moment to disintegrate into
dust and decay, leaving me dangling by a scrawny railing.
Once we were on the circular
landing that wrapped around the lighthouse, I remained plastered to the bright red stucco. A metal red rail equally as insubstantial as the stair railing was all that kept us from leaning too far
over and free falling into a puddle of memories someone would have to mop up. I wasn’t going to take that chance.
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Why did I have to look down? |
“C’mon, Robbie. It’s perfectly safe,” the girls tried to coax
me to the edge with them. “Come see what’s
down there.”
“I know what’s down there,” I
said, keeping my eyes upward, enjoying the clouds high up in the sky. “I was just down there, remember? Why do I want to see the top of people’s
heads?”
“You’re being ridiculous. This is a beautiful view.”
“I’m enjoying a nice view, right
now. Why, look at that pelican up there
flying around.”
In Virginia, they wanted me to
cross a thin swing bridge held up by ropes.
Again, it was to see a beautiful vista of mountains and natural
forest. They had pictures of the same
landscape in the gift shop below and I saw no need to risk my neck take a picture
someone else had already taken. It
seemed redundant to me. I could see my
foot busting through one of the wooden slats to dangle helpless at the people
below. Who knew how often they replaced
the wood? It could be weather rotted and
ready to crumble to dust. I’m sure my
fat gut was more than the allotted weight limit and I could see us crashing to
our deaths all because I needed another Ho-Ho.
No, I’m safer on the ground where gravity requires I should be. There is no need for me to go where others
have already been to see what they already saw.
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Seriously, I'm fine right here. |
Besides, I can’t control my
morbid imagination, which only helps fuel my fear. When I see the edge and the sudden drop my
mind pictures me going over it and I feel the impact and see the aftermath that
is a very real possibility. It would
only take one slip, one misstep. There
would be no recovery. My mind lives the
fall, my breath becomes ragged, and my chest constricts until I want to
scream. I can’t even walk along the
balcony of a second-story building without the fear gripping me in its clutches
and squeezing my chest tight with its icy fingers. My hands get clammy and my breathing
ragged. I become dizzy and want to
vomit. It’s not a good sensation and my
fear grows deeper roots.
When I was younger, my fear of
heights almost kept me from the high dive.
We were enjoying our time at a community pool with friends and I watched
the other kids climb up that long ladder, prance out on that toothpick they
called a diving board, and leap into the air, hurling themselves to the water
below. It scared me to death just watching
it.
I wanted to do it.
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Show offs! |
My mom was probably shocked when
her scaredy-cat son said it, but she hid it well. “Go for it.
You’ll have fun.” Keep in mind
that my mother doesn’t swim. Where I
have a fear of heights, she has a fear of water. When she taught my sister and I to swim, she
stood on the side of an above ground pool and merely told us what to do. It we went under, we were on our own and we knew
it. It was swim or drown, and we didn’t
care for the latter option too much.
Luckily, the community pool came equipped with a lifeguard, so I didn’t
have to rely on Mom.
Still, that was a long drop and I
was ready to chicken out before my foot had touched the first rung of the
ladder. Pauline came to my rescue,
however. At the time, she was like a
second mother to us, only one who could swim and enjoyed water. As she saw me wanting to back out, she was
out of her chair, following me, encouraging me on to the high dive. “You can do it, Robbie. I’ll be right behind you.”
By now, everyone was watching us and I was trapped. I had to do it or be picked on even more so at school than I already was. Still, no one was being discouraging, knowing I was already about to wet my bathing suit and I hadn’t even been in the water, yet. Even the lifeguard was allowing Pauline to follow me up the ladder when he had blown his shiny whistle at everyone else who tried to go up two at a time. It was as if everyone knew how important a step this was for me and was doing their best to make it happen.
I climbed the ladder, one wobbly
step at a time, and before I was ready, I found myself standing on that thin,
bouncing board. Pauling had been right
behind me the entire time. I had watched
everyone else run the length of the diving board and leap into the air
performing some fantastic twirl or belly flop.
That wasn’t going to happen with me.
With my luck, I’d slip, hit the board and roll off to land on the side
of the pool, instead of in the water. I
inched my way out, instead, doing my best to stay in the exact middle of the
board. My focus stayed on each step I
took without seeing beyond my feet because I knew the minute I realized how far
up I was, I would chicken out.
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You want me to climb that? |
I finally made it to the end of
the board and was forced at that point to see the water below. I was ready to cry. What in the world had I gotten myself into? I should have just kept my mouth shut and
stayed on the shallow steps with the little kids.
I wasn’t going to do it. I would just turn around and climb back down
the ladder, chickening out like I did with most things in my life. However, a glance behind me showed Pauline
standing at the other end of the diving board watching me. “You can do this, Robbie. I’m right behind you.”
Damn.
I turned back around to face the
water below. I was going to have to jump
whether I wanted to or not. Well, it had
been a nice life, so far. I took a deep
breath and then stepped off the diving board as most people would step off a
curb. I didn’t scream on the way down,
although I wanted to. I held my breath
and waited for the water to squish me like concrete.
My feet pierced the surface and I
plunged into the deep end. I was already
scrambling for the surface before I was halfway under; just knowing I was going
to drown. After all, I had already been
holding my breath and who knew how much longer I could keep holding it. I should practice that incase I am ever
forced into this situation again. I was
going to survive the fall only to drown afterwards. From the frying pan, into the fire, I just
knew it. Yes, I was paranoid. And dramatic.
My head popped back up like a
submerged buoy and Pauline was right there, as she promised. The minute my feet had left the high dive,
she had raced down the board and jumped in right behind me. When I broke the surface, so did she,
laughing and bragging at my accomplishment.
She swam with me to the edge of the pool and everyone was clapping. The dork had jumped and survived! I wrapped myself into a towel and sat on the
lounge chair trying not to cry as the adrenaline of unnecessary fear washed out
of me with the dripping water.
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I'm going to die. I know it. |
Without Pauline there, I never
would have followed through on what I wanted to do. We all have fears. One of the main reasons most people don’t go
after their dreams is merely because they’re afraid. They need a Pauline in their life. You need a Pauline in your life, as
well. I’ve been blessed with a family that
constantly pushes me in my dreams to the point of almost nagging. Without them, I never would have achieved all
that I have, so far. The girls are
invaluable to me and are my biggest supporters.
There are others, as well. Family
members in other states, such as Teri’s cousin, Randy McCall, who helps promote
my blog and Facebook page, and Amanda Lowry, a friend of my kids, who helps
share my writing. I have also made some
fantastic friends on Facebook and Twitter this past year that are a constant
source of encouragement as we help each other promote our creative
efforts. Because of them I have been
able to participate in projects and writings I would never have even known
about last year and these people are special because it’s not just business; it’s
friendship, as well. We each have a dream
and we are going to help each other achieve it.
Not only do you need people like
that in your life, but you need to be that person for others. Help push people past their fears and into their
dreams. As much as I love seeing my
numbers and stats climb, I get a bigger kick out of assisting someone else
reach a new goal. You will achieve more
by helping others along the way, than by only worrying about yourself. We all need someone right behind us as we get
ready to take that leap. It’s a long way
down, but together we’ll bust through the surface to an applauding audience,
cheering because we busted through our fear and took a chance at our dream.
This year, climb that ladder. Push past your fears and jump. I, for one, will be right behind you.
*
* * * *
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Great read, Robbie and I share your fear of heights so I totally get the paranoid thought of the rotted bridge, LOL!! For the record, you are definitely one up on me because I climbed down from the high dive and my little brother, who was fearless, dove off. I feel the same way regarding the connections and friendships I have made via social networking. I have met some amazing and talented folks this year who keep me going to pursue my dreams and you are at the top of that list. So no worries my friend, if ever you want to jump, I've got your back. : )
ReplyDeleteAnd I have yours. This year, well actually the past few months, have been amazing as far as the connections and friendships with great people, you among them. I never did get on another high dive, although the girls are determined to tour more lighthouses. Shouldn't they have elevators by now?
DeleteOh, yeah. I,m with you on this. I even don't like driving up or down large hills. Get this sudden thought that the brakes will pick that moment to quit working.
ReplyDeleteI have the same paranoia with bridges. It's going to collapse the minute I am at the top or someone is going to hit me and push me off the edge. I'll stay mainland, thanks. Thanks for visiting and commenting, Heather :)
DeleteRobbie, you guys sound like my daughter. She is terrified of heights. We went to a nice hotel once that had a huge atrium and glass elevators. She stood in the elevator facing the shiny, steel door rather than looking outward and down. I've never been bothered by heights, and climbed everything in sight when I was a kid. For many years I worked in the construction business building scaffolds. Sometimes we were more than a hundred feet or more above the ground and walking on a scaffold pipe only three inches in diameter. I respected gravity but was very afraid of concrete. The high diving board was a piece of cake for me. My fear was always people. I was a very shy and quiet kid growing up. It took me a long time (four years in the Army and four more in college) to get over that. I had an English teacher in the eight grade (Mr. Morgan) who was my first male teacher. He had been a champion swimmer in college. He and I started a swim team at a school that had no swimming pool. He was a broad shouldered, atheletic man that all the girls had a crush on. But he was my Pauline. He pushed me to write more and to read for the fun of it. He showed me that it was okay to be a guy and like poetry and reading books. Of course I still got picked on for being a nerd. But I didn't care so much anymore. Mr. Morgan started me on my life's path. The Army did manage to make a man out of me. On the first day of classes in college all the memories of those anxious and awkward days of high school came flooding back. But I decided it was past time to get over it and take charge of becoming the person I wanted to be. The shyness thing had to go. Old habits die hard. But no one from back then would even recognize me now. People no longer scare me. I'm still working on that concrete phobia though!
ReplyDeleteI do the same as your daughter when it comes to glass elevators lol. My dad was the same as you. He worked construction and walked on stilts as well as scaffolds and sometimes did both at the same time.
DeleteIt's awesome the way some teachers have touched our lives and changed the course we were taking. I had two in high school that pushed me to writing and I was blessed that they never stopped pushing me.
Great blog post... I share your fear! But, I think it makes me a stronger person! I know my limitations, but always strive to do better! Vanessa :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, Vanessa. I agree about pushing past your fears making you stronger. It was how I made it to the top of the lighthouse to begin with lol. Here's to doing better in the New Year. Thanks for visiting and commenting.
DeleteI think this one is my favorite.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful.
Thank you, Jenna :)
Delete