No Down, Please

I have this incredible fear of falling. Heights do not scare me. Speed does not scare me. Walking down a flight of stairs is, for me, scarier than having a root canal. I know. I’ve had a root canal. Piece of cake.

I don’t know when this all started. All I know is that it’s getting worse as I get older. Let’s face it. I’m no spring chicken. I used to wear stilettos. Now I wear ballet flats. Or stacked heel boots. Still fashionable in my footwear, but at 5’2” I could use a little more height. I have this vision of me tumbling down the basement stairs head first into the basket of laundry I’m carrying.

It’s not that I’m clumsy. Actually, I used to dance with an Israeli folkdance troupe. We did lifts, jumps, spins. Barefoot. I have videos if you don’t believe me.

I have no issues with climbing. It’s the down part that kind of freaks me out. Roller coasters? Uh, no. Ice skating? No. Falling on ice is the worst. As I’ve said before-if I have to walk on ice, I need to plan extra time in my schedule to get from point A to point B. Even if it’s 10 feet away.

Prime example: we were in Mexico, specifically the ruins at Tulum. I had a blast climbing all the way to the top to look out at the sea. Beautiful. Then I realized I would have to get down because of course…what goes up, must come down. Well folks, I just sat right down and went step by step on my ass. Not the most graceful way of doing it, but hey, I’m here to tell the story, aren’t I?

These days I plan my routes carefully. I’ll walk an extra few minutes to avoid going down stairs or a hill. My band mates know to be uber patient with me when there are stairs involved. I need to go slow. Even climbing off the stage can result in a panic induced moment. Railings are my safety net. I’ve been known to hold onto walls when there are no railings in sight.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my fear of down. But as long as there’s an alternate way of getting down, I’ll climb all the way up.

Alps anyone?