¶ … Narrative
The Decision to Face My Fears
For as long as I can recall, I've had a fear of heights. I could never be sure of exactly why this was true but any time I found myself looking out the window of a tall building, on a carnival ride or in an airplane, I would experience symptoms of panic and discomfort. My heart would race and my palms would sweat. As a result, I began to find myself increasingly unwilling to place myself in situations where I might have to experience this type of anxiety. I would avoid taking trips where I might have to fly, if at all possible. I would go out of my way to resist the kinds of hikes or outdoor activities that might place me at elevation. In general, while it did not effect my everyday life, I was beginning to find my fear to be an obstacle to the enjoyment of some potentially extraordinary activities. Quite to this point, it would require the engagement of an extraordinary activity to help break me of my crippling fears. Still, the ultimate decision to take the proverbial and literal leap, as it were, is one with which I would struggle mightily.
After years of attempting to suppress and manage my fear, I found myself at a crossroads. My friends were traveling to Costa Rica for spring break and they insisted that I come along. I had already steeled myself against my fear of air travel enough to agree to go on this trip....
I reasoned that it was worth it to visit an exotic location, to experience exciting new things and simply to get away for a week. So I booked my flight. It was only at this point that my friends told me that had taken the initiative and purchased my ticket for a 'zip-lining' adventure.
For some basic background, the 'zip-lining' adventure places the participant in a waist-harness and, using a peg and two metal carabineers, affixes the participant to a metal wheel. This wheel is, in turn, attached to a thick metal cable that suspends from one cliff to another, hundreds of feet above the top of the rainforest below. The very thought of it made me ill. I argued strenuously with my friends and insisted that I had no intention of participating in this activity. I insisted that I would be more than happy to hang back at the hotel while they stupidly risked their lives for several seconds of adrenaline.
But my friends were relentless. They assured me that it would be fine, that the activity was perfectly safe and that my odds of survival were high. I, in turn, argued that my odds of survival would be that much greater if I simply remained on the ground. The argument persisted for the whole month before our trip and even in the days leading up to it. Even as I enjoyed the sights, sounds and flavors of Costa Rica, I quietly dreaded the day that we were scheduled to zip-line.…
