I learned to cave, because I was fearful of small spaces.
I learned to kayak, because water frightens me. Being underwater frightens me more.
I learned to climb, because I am so acrophobic that I get nervous just seeing heights in movies.
It was a way of controlling the fears I could control, to conquer those few things in life I could conquer. I can’t even count how many times, deep into some very small, wet, rocky, cold cave, squeezing through spaces that just aren’t rational, I’d think, “WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING!?” but then I’d come to see things that I knew very few would ever get to see. Massive underground waterfalls. Cave formations that were 50 feet long, others 3 stories high and white and gleaming. Rooms bigger than football fields. Hibernating bats covered in crystallized dew. I saw wonders.
I've done this several times. This is my friend Benji, but it might as well be me.As I’ve aged, my terrors and fears have become more specific and less physical. They aren’t fears of the dark, or spaces, or tangible things. My terrors aren’t boogey men; they are internal. They are fears of breaking, of disappointment; fears of loneliness and unwanted isolation, fears of rejection and of love. They are as much fears of the past as they are fears of the present. I try not to think about my fears, keep them somewhere I don’t have to see or address them.
Leslie said something today that forced me to think them.
“The best things in life are terrifying,” she said. “But I imagine the first 30 seconds will be terrifying then you find your voice. And solace. Don’t let fear and exhaustion win your heart. You always have a say in the matter. Always.”
I used to be so keen to face my fears in the most direct way possible. No longer.
