It’s a long way down, even for Julie Andrews
Hiking 3 1/2 hours up a steep mountain? Lovely.
Riding 7 minutes down on the gondola? Spear your hiking pole thru my heart and call it a mercy killing.
I’ve turned into a 40-year old acrophobe. And I blame it on my start-up.
Here’s the back-story:
This past summer, my husband and I went day-hiking up Bald Mountain in Idaho. Perfect excuse for exercise, communing with nature and accomplishing a goal. Who wouldn’t feel good after that?
We made our way up the mountain in the shade of the gondola. The free ride down was to be our reward. Three hours later, I bounded, thrilled to be sitting down on the cushioned seat, happy for the beautiful scenery in front of us.
That was until we began the descent. My stomach immediately lurched and my only vision was of the gondola slipping off its rail and careening into the rocks below.
I was afraid of heights? What the hell!?!
As a teenager, I loved rollercoasters, cliff walks and skyscraper viewing decks. I savored the take-offs of airline flights, I jumped from the high-dive platform without hesitation and I never lowered the security bar on ski lifts. But now, in the safety of Swiss-manufactured steel cage, I got light-headed, starting negotiating with God and ended up with my eyes closed, humming “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” until we reached the ground. I figured it was a gondola thing. No more Swiss transportation for me.
But last week, it happened again on the plane ride home our Christmas vacation. The flying scared the shit out of me! Consistent turbulence and the sight of snow-capped mountains just below the wing tip sent me into a panic attack — sweaty armpits, shallow breathing and shaking arms included. We were all going to die! I shouted to my earphoned kids “I LOVE you!” They nodded and kept watching their movie.
A few days later, while skiing, I found myself holding tightly to the chairlift bar, wondering if a gust of wind could send our chair tumbling down a ravine.
What on earth was happening to me?! I was unraveling at the seams.
I know the phobia of heights has plagued thousands, but for me, it was new. A NY Times article (“Can A Playground Be Too Safe?”) discussed growing trends of acrophobic children due to the lack of high climbing equipment at parks and gyms. Maybe I just needed practice bungee jumping and climbing ladders? My husband suggested that I just needed rest. But I blamed it on the start-up. The stress and pressure of building a company, raising two children and not letting my muffin-top of fat overcome ALL of my jeans had made me afraid to leave sea-level. Maybe I couldn’t handle it all?
No way! I thrive on multi-tasking.
Flight of Impending Death
So I started researching late-in-life phobias and strategies on how to overcome them (without a cockatil of heavy medication and vodka). Turns out, the fear of heights is often most caused by a simple fear of dying; a greater realization of one’s mortality. For some reason, I’m more afraid now of dying than ever before. Hmmm.
Could it be that now, with a loving family and a start-up launching in April, that I am more in-love with life than ever before? Could it be that the “pressure” to juggle my family and ambition is, in fact, engaging me more in life? That I want to live more than ever?
Well, well, well.
That’s a spin on stress and aging, isn’t it? Life is simply getting more interesting and I, more anxious to live it.
I’ll take it. Here’s to a promising 2013… and lots of fear of dying.
OMG! The same thing happened to me! I’m so glad you did the research and confirmed that the phobias stem from not wanting to die. I suspected as much, but have been avoiding the topic for obvious reasons. In fact, I have to type this Totefish comment really really fast because, I’m starting to feel nauseous… I DONT have a fear of flying, but I DO have a fear of ski lifts that never existed previously and I break out in a cold sweat if I’m walking on the third floor of a mall. So… note to developers: Keep your new malls two levels.
Floating staircases are the worst!
But rest assured, the research says that identifiying the issue is the first step. You basically have to say to yourself, “Okay, I get it. I’m going to die one of these days. And that’s okay. No one can live forever.” Then, supposedly, the overwhelming fear subsides… and you can shop the stores on the third level.
Although this said… I’m staying away from glass elevators.
Okay, to be a little less psychological here, I have anecdotally heard from SO many people in their forties (and this happened to me) that they suddenly developed fear of flying or claustrophobia, etc. but that it was initially PHYSICAL. My brother realized it when he jumped on a playground swing for the first time in ten years and after a few back and forths got super dizzy. This happened to me on a Disney ride. I don’t think either of these episodes were a fear of death, although I definitely had a fear of vomiting on the person next to me. And before that I only had experienced nauseau and dizziness when I was pregnant. But after that experience I had trouble flying or being in small spaces because it reminded me of the episode on the Disney ride and I therefore expected to have those symptoms, so, in a way, it then BECAME psychological and I had to work on it, and still do. But a doctor friend told me that the balance center in your brain goes through changes in your forties, or something like that. So that’s my super articulate medical explanation and I’m sticking to it. Yoga helps with balance, and maybe fear of death, too! Great post!
Now you have me REALLY wondering. Here’s the thing — I sat on the kids swing set sometime last year (maybe Spring? maybe it was the summer before?) and I thought it was just my lunch coming back to get me. But YES — I got a bit nauseous swinging! No joke. I clearly remember the incident but I never connected it to my newfound fears of heights. Ms Newbound, you might be on to something non-sciency but deadly relevant here. Last night, my sister was in town visiting and she was marveleing at my daughter’s ability to twirl non-stop (for no particular reason other than she just liked the feeling of her long nightgown as it sprayed outwards from the circulating air). She said she no longer can twirl without getting so dizzy, she fears she’ll vomit. Hmmmm. She’s 38 years old. This whole “something in the ear changes as we get older” might be a KEY piece of the puzzle. I’m going to investigate further. Will report back when I learn more!
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