a fear of heights

It’s no secret, I’m afraid of heights. Yet on par with my amazing abilities of avoidance, I somehow manage to forget this semi-important fact on a fairly regular basis. Such as when I recently went up to New Hampshire and insisted that we go visit the Flume Gorge.

I’ve visited the Flume before. I remember it being pretty. I remember lots of rocks. And water. And even walkways over the water and next to the rocks. Obviously, I blocked out the rest.

SO, to the Flume we went.

Pretty, right?

I rememer this. A nice lovely walk through a gorge. Not too bad…

And then my memory starts returning. I start getting nervous. Something is tickling my memory…a fear of something. My heart starts fluttering slightly.

but really, this isn’t so bad, right? I mean, it’s feeling a little tight with these rocks, but really, it’s pretty. Right?

I decided to take preventative measures and work on those smooth avoidance skills of mine 😉 I chose a new view…

I have to say, I was a fan of this new tactic. Until, well, until I saw this…

*sigh* Ohthat’srightthisiswhatIamscaredof. I knew I was forgetting something about the Flume.

Random strage fact about me: I have an irrational fear of certain staircases. Yup. Strange, but true. Since I was a teenager I have had recurring nightmares revolving around stairs. Always me going up stairs. The stairs are always different, but the fear is forever there. Every now and then I come across a set of stairs that just do me in. It happened while in Chicago. And it was about to happen over rushing water in NH with my mom.

My mom may possibly have looked at me as if I had two heads when, with tears in my eyes, I revealed that I quit. I needed to turn back. I couldn’t do this. My mom, who has been struggling with major health issues for the past year, pushed past me and ascended the stairs. She would look to see how much further we had to go.

She disappeared around the corner. I stood at the bottom of the evil stairs. I wondered if my mom would figure it out, if I just turned back, took the long way. Would she know to continue on, that I would catch up with her? Probably not. *sigh*

Her head popped around the corner. She waved me up. *SIGH*

I went as fast as I could. I ran up the flight of stairs. Rounded the corner. Ran up the next flight of stairs.

I rounded the corner again.

I threw myself down onto a stone bench. And cried. Again, my two heads apparently reappeared because my mom looked at me curiously. As a photographer, I did what any good camera-weilding girl would do, and took a self portrait of my fear…

And then I looked back at what I conquered.

That may not look like much to you. But trust me. I almost died! I’m absolutely positive of it.

So, the Flume was pretty and all. But I’m thinking maybe I never need to visit again.

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