The Struggle with Heights

The truth of an all consuming fear.

Narrative Essay- The Struggle with Heights

 

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” 
― Frank Herbert, Dune

Only one thing is this world that causes me to break out in a bitter swear, weaken my knees, and force myself to jabber at anyone near my nervous self. Thoughts of certain death will being to run through my mind, reminding me of how truly precious our world is. It forces me to imagine my funeral, and then cease my thoughts all together. My stomach experiences a strange sensation, as my palms begin to moisten.

I am deathly frightened of heights.

This is not a random act of terror, my fear is excruciatingly specific. The view of a long way to plunge, with rocks enticingly below me, and no sturdy barrier, this is what fuels my fear. My sense of security is screamingly not present. Guardrails are absent, or any other safety devices for that matter. I am forced to put my reliance’s on my own balance ability.

In defiance of my struggle with heights, I found myself climbing, with an endless amount of hesitation, to a place high up, as I quivered with each step. I was invited to a hike in the gorgeous tourist destination; Punakaiki located in New Zealand. One of the many alluring attractions included a waterfall, about 100 feet high, that thunders into a crystal clear pool, where one can witness the sun amusing itself on water. Circling the lagoon and rushing river are boulders, varying in size. The exotic jungle stretches on both sides of the spectacle, coextending on a rising slope. 

After hurriedly eating our poorly packed lunches, within sight and sound of the flowing water, we quickly agreed we must find an area above the fall. As we began our hopefully walk, I worried there might be the chance that we were going the wrong way, but I kept silent in hopes the others knew better. Along the base of a rocky walk, I was stopped in my tracks.

My eyes discovered that the climb now escalated steeply, far out of reach. Besides the left boundary of the jungle, a passage through the animalistic trees did not look promising due to the fact that a polarity amount of the view was distorted by boulders placed in a tiered appearance. As I struggled to find a solution, I came to the realization that my fellow hikers had already decided to climb; seen through their eyes it was inevitable. My hesitation began to intensify, and my anxiety grew along with it. My conscious began to take over, struggling to decide the right decision. Do I turn back? My optimistic voice came to power shouting, “Yes!” My cynical side had no indecision when sharing with me the option of slowly turning away, and never looking back. I shouted out my uncertainties to my comrades, only for them to dismiss my struggle.

With a feeling of having no choice, I pushed on, and choose a path that appeared to be the obvious choice. I caught eyes with one of the members ahead of me. Then, abruptly, he lurched down no less then ten feet. Paralyzed, I watched in silence until he was able to once again gain control, and assure me no harm came to him. His confidence did nothing to subdue the hammer rummaging through my heart, with no sight of stopping.  I forced myself to begin the climb between a cramped opening between the boulders. Once in it I reached the only place close to tranquility where there were good handholds. I had successfully passed the first challenge, but could not shake the endless amount of fear that coursed through my veins.

The complications only heightened from that point on, with a never ending battle against my fear of heights. My mind screamed to stop, turn back; yet my body continued on. My breathing never slowed, and my heart raced, growing in strength.

I had now reached the worst part of the climb yet; the slope was now very close to being completely vertical, and the handholds were beginning to be nonexistent. I had luck on my side, with my length is height the stretches would be more bearable then for one who was considerably short. With my hands tightly gripping the rocks, and the drop constantly in sight, the climb seemed even more dangerous then before. At first I debated on whether or not to continue, but found myself cautiously stretching my hopeful foot up to another holding. I couldn’t help but picture myself falling to the bottom of the cliff, and pain surging through my body; if I managed to survive the fall. Inching cautiously to the left on an edged rock, I discovered my sights had a clear view of the river, and jagged rocks below. I panicked. My foot slipped. My heart found itself in my throat as pure terror comsumed my every thought.

“IM GOING TO FALL!” I squealed.

It had been only a small slip, however; I was not in midair! I took a few calming breaths, and my heart repositioned itself where it belonged.

With no further mishaps, we came eventually to the last troublesome spot, the stretch between two boulders that had given me problems on the way up. Thankfully, the rest of our friends had given up climbing to the top and had now caught up to us. There were two possible descents from here. One way included a short jump down. I decided to check out the other way. Seth was working his way down this second route when he fell a few feet and bruised himself! I again looked over the first option.

Do I want to jump? There’s a big drop if I jump wrong or don’t stop on the ledge! But the other way…!

I knew if I was to get down, it would have to be Seth’s way. He was willing to help me however he could. I inspected the “path” he had taken. There was some low vegetation, matted down and sloping slightly toward the edge. Then came a drop down to a narrow inlet between rocks. That was not so bad. The hitch lay in the fact that there was no handholds or footholds, and my short legs would not reach to the rocks.

“Uh, I don’t know about this. I don’t like the looks of it!” I said, my voice quavering.

“You can make it, Amy! I'm right here. I won’t let you fall,” Seth promised.

Slowly, painstakingly, I backed over the vegetation.

“I’m coming down,” I warned, my voice unsteady.

“I’m ready,” answered Seth. “I got you.”

His assurances gave me the strength to go on. I trusted him implicitly. Flattening myself onto my belly, I edged my feet into midair. Seth held them tightly and slowly lowered me, guiding my feel to a firm place as I let my body slide over the leaves, twigs, and rock. When my feet made contact with the solid rock, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I could feel the fear draining out of me.

My arms and legs were scratched up; I was dirty and sweaty. But none of it mattered. I was at the bottom!

“Yaaaaaaahhhh!” I yelled. I never felt so alive, and so thankful for that life.

Author's Note

*give me any thoughts you got