Rock Climbing
Rock of Gibraltar
Rock of Gibraltar
I have always been afraid of heights. Never one for roller coasters, my fear escalated over the years, to the point of terror as I tried to hang my clothes on the line from the third floor balcony.
Over time, I made a concerted effort to manage my phobia. Whenever I found myself in a triggering situation, I asked two questions that would remind me that I was actually in control:
Will anyone push you?
Will you jump?
No to both.
Asking these questions grounded me into the actual facts defining my situation. I learned to use my breath to keep myself here and now.
I would never swing from the CN Tower or go bungy jumping, but I could hang my clothes, enjoy a view, and use a chair-lift without having a panic attack. I was still uncomfortable, but ordinary situations involving heights became more manageable.
Of course, as we all know, life has a way of offering opportunities for growth, usually in the form of facing our fears.
I had always dreamt of visiting the south of Spain. In 2017, I travelled to Andalusia with a friend. Driving through the forbidding peaks of the Sierra Nevada, I was able to manage the autopista delicately perched on stilts from the coast to Granada. I crossed the long suspended bridge to Cadiz without incident.
But the day we headed for Ronda, my inner resources could no longer manage the overwhelming reaction to hair pin turns and winding mountain roads on the edge of canyons. As I turned green and nearly lost consciousness in the passenger seat, my friend turned back. We never made it to Ronda.
Those who know me well know how determined I can be. Soon after this disappointing incident, we headed for Gibraltar. Looking up at the needle rising from the town on the other side of the bridge, I knew I had to find a way to overcome the fear. There is no way I had come all this way to turn back.
We found a man with a van willing to drive us up the Rock. As we headed out, I strategized.
A lifelong meditator, I remembered what I knew how to do. As we climbed the rock, I grounded myself in my breath. Every time we stopped at a lookout, I asked myself:
“Will anyone push you?” No.
“Will you jump?” No.
On to the next lookout we spiralled.
I was rewarded by incomparable views of Africa, only 24 kilometres away.
I realized that I could do things scared. Fear of doing something didn’t have to be a reason to forego an experience that I could only have if I dared.
I still won’t get on a roller coaster or jump out of a plane (yet…), but I learned that daring would get me to the other side of fear.