Just a Little...High

by Jodie

Ever since I was young I have been afraid of heights in a way that defies logic. The first memory I have of this crippling stupidity is from primary school, when I was unable to jump down from a wall that separated the high and the low playgrounds. The wall was about a metre high and posed no danger but I spent four years using the steps next to it and building my reputation as a "strange kid."

Fear struck me again when I was on a school-sponsored adventure weekend in Wales. The weekend included archery, canoeing and abseiling [rappeling]. You can probably see where this is going, though perhaps not, as it's completely illogical. Amazingly, I made it up the four flights of wobbly scaffolding with its slippery steel rungs, looking down through the gaps between the bars while I climbed up the tower. However, once I'd struggled to the top I was completely incapable of abseiling down a solid concrete wall with ropes and winches anchored to me and without having to look at the distance to the ground. Lunacy. Totally irrational. And I haven't got to the real craziness yet.

Despite this insane but entirely unshakeable phobia, I've spent large portions of my free time visiting some torturously high places without shattering my poor, petrified mind. During a holiday in the Mediterranean I not only climbed up the exposed, sandy steps to the summit of Masada but also walked down an unstable, rocky pile--nicknamed "Steps"--at the top of a high incline that lacked a hand rail. I've been to the top of the CN Tower, right to the uppermost observation deck where there's a narrow walkway surrounded by high wire mesh, so that no one can put the tower to any sinister purpose. I've been to the summit of the Coliseum, strolled the walkway around the inside of St Paul's cathedral, and I flew in a tiny helicopter as it dipped over Niagara Falls. I took the picture below from the top of the Astronomical Clock in Prague, which isn't exceptionally tall but was still too daunting for another fearful friend to attempt it. These are not exactly the actions of a daredevil but most people would say that they are not ideal locations for a person who is afraid of a small wall.

In hopes of curing myself on the cheap, I've often asked myself why I have this warped version of a phobia embedded in me. "So," I say, "tell me about your childhood," but the answer isn't quite so accessible as Freud assumes. No childhood incident seems to provide a solution to my fear of heights or depths. A friend helpfully suggested that maybe the wall had looked much bigger than me because I was so little and that I have just idiotically carried this over to adulthood. Unfortunately, this theory was quickly (and publicly) disproved when I tried jumping from a similar wall last year. Looking down I realised that the ground seemed even farther away now because my head was at a greater height. I had a small panic while my friends smirked on the safe ground below--which they'd reached by showing me how easy it was to jump off the wall.

Failing to find satisfaction in my childhood memories I ask the inevitable question, "Your parents, they are nice, yes?" As much as I'd like to blame my parents for everything, in the manner of all teenagers who have emerged into their self-analytical twenties, it doesn't work. My parents were decently worried about my safety but they did not imprint their fears on me to keep me from trying anything new or "dangerous." Anyway, it always seems a bit pathetic to me to blame your parents for all your petty, everyday problems.

Finally, all that is left is to analyse my dreams. Occasionally I wake up because I feel as if I have fallen into my bed from a great height, an event that is always accompanied by a feeling of foreboding. However, my more scientific friends assure me that this is a universal feeling and that there is a physical reason for it (I am incapable of understanding what they are saying after that). Really, my dreams explain more about my fear of insects flying into my mouth than my fear of heights.

So where this daft fear of heights, falling, depths, walls, climbing and jumping comes from I don't know. Origins are tricky things (just look at how much trouble Darwin had). How to fix it, again I'm not sure. I hear facing your fears is a good thing, that the suffering of others can inspire miracles and that pride will force a person to do anything. Perhaps a sponsored parachute jump broadcast on television would help someone else similarly afflicted, but you would never get me jumping out of a plane, of course. And I don't make promises to charities if I don't intend to keep them.

I'm unsure about lots of things to do with fear but I think there's one positive lesson that comes from the jumble of what I've just related: keep on trying. Just because you are afraid of heights doesn't mean that everything that is high will automatically terrify you; you don't have to be scared of flying just because you don't like abseiling. You might discover that you love mountains even though you whimper when you stand on an escalator. That goes for all fear; try everything and if you're not afraid, celebrate. Soon you will realise that you're afraid of only a few select heights, dogs, rodents or whatever. Before long there will be no need to restrict yourself by declaring, "I am afraid of...". You can do whatever you want, and if it scares you too much just don't do that one little thing again.

I'd cry for hours if it were suggested that I try stilts, but I would hate to have missed all the dizzying heights I've visited during my short little life. It's just a matter of having a go. Remember, you can always come down if it gets too much... although I would advise working out how you are going to get down before you go up.

People seem always to be advising those who don't think they can do something to remember the little engine that could, that cute children's story where the train makes it through by sheer will power. When I'm scared and doubting I always like to remember that the train was probably as frightened as me, and he had to go over a bloody great big mountain.