a new fear of heights
When I was little, I loved to climb. So I tied my sheets together and climbed out of my window. I couldn’t get back up, though.
I climbed onto the long, sloping roof from the top of the garden fence, and then I climbed to the peak. I climbed trees, when the branches were the right distance apart. I climbed onto the overhang above the back deck. I climbed onto the deck itself, which was high up, wedging my feet in the cracks in the diagonal beams that supported it.
And then one day, I didn’t like climbing anymore. And then one day after that, I was so scared of heights, my breath caught when I came near the edge of something. In the Time Warner Center, on the fourth floor, standing by the glass railing took resolve. On the Brooklyn Bridge, sometimes I look down and, through the slats, I can see cars far, far below, and it seems like I’m walking on air, and my heart picks up pace.
Zip-lining in Costa Rica was a failure. Everyone else loved it. Everyone who has been has a story about how great it is. I still remember what I was thinking when I was dangling over a green, misty canyon on a trembling line, “I am not supposed to fly! I’m a person!” After a childhood of wishing I could fly! What a disappointment.
And then I kicked one of the guides in the face. He was trying to grab my legs, to haul me back in, after a near-suicidal jump into the jungle. And, reflexively, I defended my right to die. He fell back, clutching his face, and I yelled, “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!! Are you OK?” as I swung back out into the trees again. I spent the rest of the trek apologizing to him. He was sick of me. I was a little sick of me.
What the hell had happened?
I don’t know.
At some point, I think I started to care more actively about being alive. Suddenly, one day, I felt how fragile my life was. No one believed me. Adults think eighteen year olds are reckless. I wasn’t reckless anymore, though. I think twenty-five year olds are still supposed to be a little reckless. I’m not sure how to. I’m not sure why anyone would want to.
Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge the other night, Bear pointed out the gates set high up, that prevent people from climbing to the top. I thought for a second about how my young self would’ve liked to climb up there, and I shivered a little. But then I realized that I’d actually never noticed the gates, because, somehow, I’d never looked up far enough to see them. I knew the view of the city and I knew the way the planks looked under my feet and I knew exactly how the bicycle lane looked since I was always checking for murderously fast cyclists.
Suddenly, I wanted to stop, look up, and at least imagine what I might be missing.
It was kind of beautiful. And I really, really didn’t want to go up there. I like my life on the ground.
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Unroast: Today I love how I feel when I dress up.
Kate on September 6th 2011 in Uncategorized
Barbara responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 11:15 am #
Kate, I am so glad you’re not reckless!
Lucy responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 4:37 pm #
I am the same. I feel like I used to be braver about a lot of things actually, than I am now. I used to drive faster and party more and just generally live harder. And now it doesn’t seem worth it. I think that might be growing up. Or maybe it’s just appreciating what you have more.
San D responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 6:24 pm #
I was born a chicken. Well let’s put it this way, my Dad was a career soldier, and my mom, would say “you can’t do that because your father would never make grade”…so I never did anything (oh and I AM including climbing trees..everything was off limits). That coupled with the fact that I grew up during the Cold War on army bases with continual “alerts”, and you can have a sense of what kind of chicken I was. So that said, I am still afraid of everything, but challenge myself to do everything. Afraid of heights? No problem I just took students up the Eifel Tower constantly LOL. Afraid of public speaking? OK become a teacher and talk in front of gazillions of kids over the years. Afraid of being a passenger in a car? OK lets travel all over Ireland on the LEFT hand side of the road. And on it goes. The older I get the freer I am while still carrying my baggage filled with fright. I made a choice. Be cocooned at home, or see life up close and personal while quaking in my boots.
Paula responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 8:50 pm #
I was never a climber; I was just too chicken. 🙂 I always thought it was a fear of heights, but now I think it is more a fear of instability. I can stand on the balcony of a 15 story hotel and look out no problem, but put me on a 6ft ladder and… eek! 🙂
Kathleen responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 9:51 pm #
I’m with you on this one. Whenever I feel too high I want to lie down and squash my body onto the ground. So much for reckless at 25! At 32 however my brother literally looks at everything with a “How can I climb this” attitude. Literally. He climbs everything.
I can just imagine your Costa Rica dramas, sounds hilarious!
claire responded on 06 Sep 2011 at 11:00 pm #
Now that you have more or less come down to earth, it makes it a little easier for a person like myself, I have always been a scared person, except when I went up in a little sea plane, and the pilot had me controlling it, That was over Lake George, NY, many centuries ago. I confess I enjoyed the excitement. My Bernie could not believe I was willing to do this. I guess at some point in life we all try something a little reckless.
Dane responded on 08 Sep 2011 at 11:58 pm #
This happened to me JUST THIS YEAR. I’m so annoyed. I hit age 19 and all of a sudden I’m terrified of even a ten foot platform with a railing. And last year this time, I was wishing I was 19 so I could legally go sky-diving. I don’t know what happened. Can anyone explain this?