Overcoming My Fear of Heights

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This year our family travelled to the Outer Banks for our annual family vacation.  In looking up things to do down there, I was particularly interested in visiting at least one of the four lighthouses. I love old historical structures, and these lighthouses were right up my alley. Old, beautiful, brick, tall, and overlooking some of the most dangerous waters for boats to traverse. I thought of nothing other than how excited I was to visit a lighthouse and climb to the top, as a lighthouse keeper of yore might have done.

Only one problem – I had forgotten about my fear of heights.

When Fear Smacks You in the Face

I remembered this issue when we got to the bottom of the stairwell. And this bad boy was tall, about 160 feet tall. The stairs on the inside wrapped around the walls in a spiral. They were made of metal – the industrial-looking type with holes in it, and small spaces between each step. The kind where you can see all the way to the bottom if you look down. Immediately my stomach was in knots and my knees went weak. I looked over at my husband and said “There is no way I am going to be able to do these stairs… you are going to have to climb it alone”.

I waited at the bottom until my husband came back down. I even tried going up the first flight a couple times, but immediately felt dizzy and nauseous as soon as I looked at the second flight. We left, and as soon as I got outside the lighthouse this feeling of defeat came over me. I couldn’t believe how much my fear had paralyzed me.

As I had waited for Aaron, I saw families going up and down those steps. Many with younger children in tow, and no signals of fear or apprehension at the height. I knew this was a battle I was facing in my head. I did not want to make it a habit of letting my fear control me. But how in the hell was I going to get myself up those stairs???

The Mermaid Game

We returned back to the house we were staying in and joined the rest of our family at the beach. We arrived in time to find our nieces playing a game where they would run away from each wave as it washed ashore. One of the girls was taking particular care to ensure the water did not touch her. A couple times, her mother and grandmother even made some subtle attempts to get her closer to the water. However, each time the water would get close to her feet, the girl’s entire demeanor would change to one of terror. This poor little one was so scared of the water she would not even let the gentlest bit of sea foam touch her toes.

That’s when I made up the “mermaid game”. If a wave touches your feet you turn into a mermaid. If it touches you again, you turn into a fish. The next wave would turn you back into a mermaid, and so on. Somehow, this was the trick that got our little niece into the water. We even made up more rules as we went along. Small waves that didn’t roll in as far were nice mermaid waves. Waves that came closer to us were fish waves, but you could jump over them and avoid turning into a fish. After many, many rounds of this game, I could see the little girl’s fear of the water melt away as she began to enjoy herself.

I was so happy to have helped my niece let go of her fear of the water. However, I couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a hypocrite. How could I push her to do something she was terrified of when I couldn’t do the same for myself? I pondered this thought for a while, and ultimately decided I had no choice but to head back to the lighthouse the next day to try again.

Returning to the Lighthouse

The next day came and my husband and I headed back out to Currituck Light. We paid the fee for the climb and approached the stairs. I hit play on my iPhone for some comforting hip hop tunes, and as soon as I got to the landing of the stairs I was on my way up. I made it to the first landing as I had the day before and headed straight for the next set of stairs before I even had time to think about it. And that’s pretty much how it went, with me basically running up the stairs before I could talk myself out of it. Believe me, the fear and anxiety were real the entire time. My legs were weak like jelly, but I forced them to move anyway. I could barely breathe, and my chest felt tighter with each level I made it too.  By the time I made it to the top, my legs were wobbly and I was out of breath.

I approached the doorway to the pathway around the top of the lighthouse outside. Deciding that I’d made it far enough and faced enough fears for one day, I took in the impressive view from the doorway and then turned to head back down. This time we took it slow. I stared straight ahead at the walls and kept my husband immediately ahead of me to avoid looking down. This worked pretty well for me and in no time at all we were back on solid ground again.

• • •

Although I was completely terrified and the experience was rather unpleasant, it was also sort of fun. There is something about looking fear in the face and telling it to shut the f*** up that is very satisfying. Also, I can now say that I have made it to the top of a lighthouse. Would I make a similar climb like this again? That is yet to be seen. However, now I know that if I must face these fears again, I have the power to overcome them. I just need to turn some hip hop on and get to it.