Hay Loft

It felt like a privilege to be up in the loft, watching Daddy work, so I did my best to stay out of his way. He was tidying up, using the pitchfork to gather and stack loose hay, probably to make room for new bales coming in from the pastures. I took a step back as he changed directions. He sharply said my name and I stepped back again, thinking I was still in the way, but that wasn't it at all. I gasped as my foot went through the opening where the ladder is, and down I went. My leg caught briefly on one of the rungs of the ladder and I saw Daddy reaching down for me, fear in his eyes, before gravity compelled me the rest of the way down. Nothing was broken, but there were bruises - lots of them. That may have been the day my fear of heights was born. I was eight years old.

A lot of people have a fear of heights, so I've been okay with mine. Until now.

In college, I was in ROTC. We learned rappelling - bounding off a building with a rope. The first time we were to try it, off the mezzanine in the gym, I was kind of excited. The guys made it look so fun. But what looks fun from the ground looks quite different from the top. I was all snug in my Swiss seat, and the instructor was handing me the rope. Everyone was doing their thing, high on adrenaline, having fun, but I was too busy watching my life flash before my eyes.

All I had to do (all I had to do!) was stand on the ledge with my heels over the edge, lean back into an L shape with my feet against the building. (I have stopped typing to wipe the sweat off my hands twice already, just telling the story), then bound down. I knew the steps. I knew I was safe. But knowledge is no match for raw terror. So I got off that wall my own way. I cried, blubbered, begged, and made a fool of myself until the let me walk back down the stairs.

We went away for a weekend of training at Fort Indiantown Gap, where this challenge presented itself again. There were two towers. One was 60 feet high. My husband took it in two bounds. (He was also able to rappel forward, spread-eagle, like a skydiver, which I watched him do off the school building as part of an ROTC demo for incoming students. I don't think he has the slightest fear of heights.)

The other tower was 30 feet high. I was determined to do it this time, and the instructor was able to coax me backwards off the ledge. I cannot explain how much fun it was to bound down the wall. Once I cleared the edge, it was exhilarating! Still high on that experience, I did it once again before the fear came back.

It is hard to understand why I still have a paralyzing fear of heights after such a victory, but remembering how that victory felt is motivating me to take action.

In the gym where we have boot camp, there is a vertical cargo net hanging next to the foam pits. It looks pretty high but I won't try to guess how high. I want to climb to the top. Today I tried it for the first time and got halfway up before giving up. Next time I'll try to wait longer before I look down.

I can do this!