After my freshman year at Ambassador College, I returned home to find that my parents had moved from a second floor apartment on Linden Boulevard in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn to an apartment on the 17th floor of a 17 story building on Adams Street in the Brooklyn Heights section of Brooklyn. I was impressed. We now had a doorman (moving on up like The Jeffersons) and were across the street from the Brooklyn Bridge. We could see the Manhattan skyline from the roof. The Twin Towers were still around then.
Something very strange happened when I went to the edge of the roof that first night and looked out over the gorgeous city. My legs felt jittery and weak. I became very aware of how high up we were, and I felt like if I were to move, a strong wind could pick me up and carry me over the edge. Logically, I understood that wouldn't happen, but the logical part of my mind became a faint whisper, and the illogical part that had convinced me of my impending violent death was screaming in my ear. When my parents headed toward the door, they noticed that I wasn't moving. I can still hear my dad's laughter as I got down on all fours and crawled off of the roof. I crack up a little myself at that memory. I guess I felt like I really needed to be as low as possible to the ground.
What's interesting is that despite my fear of heights, I had some really special moments on that roof. Dishon and I shared our first kiss there Side note: Until I was 20, the ligament that tethers my tongue to the bottom of my mouth was so thick that it pretty much attached my tongue to bottom of my mouth, and I wasn't able to stick my tongue out. That made it hard to . . . lick ice cream cones. Yes, that's it. So that summer, I had a minor surgical procedure performed where the doctor cut that ligament so I could finally . . . lick ice cream cones like everyone else. My father was curious about why I was so insistent on having that procedure. I have always been a planner, and I wasn't trying to have us return to our respective colleges that summer without properly kissing that young man. I think my stitches weren't even fully dissolved when we first kissed 😂. I couldn't tell my father about any of that, though. Not about that, or how grateful I was to the doctor who performed that minor surgery for the very, very romantic evening Dishon and I subsequently spent on the promenade after dinner at India House before we went back to school. My apologies to all the parents of the little children who passed by us that night 😮. But I digress . . .Where was I? Yes - so many special moments on that roof, including our wedding three years later. I think I'm good with heights as long as I can't look down and see how high up I am, so if I stay away from the edges, I'm good. Dishon is the director of a week-long over night camp in Connecticut called New Heights (appropriately named), and every summer, our family goes to New Heights together - Dishon to run the camp, the kids as campers, and I go to help out with camp administration and to lead Praise and Worship. Just before the beginning of the summer of 2014, I lost a second sister as a result of a violent murder (another sister and her unborn child were murdered in 1993), and I realized that I wanted to be fully present in my life - in part as a tribute to those who no longer had that choice in this life. I got my first tattoo (Joy) about a month after Dee Dee died (I'll tell my tattoo story in another post). I didn't want fear to control me, so the following summer, I decided to go on the zip line at camp.
I was SO scared! Strapping in, and climbing up to the platform . . . the whole time, I was like, "What am I thinking?" The climb was long and really hard. I didn't know it at the time, but climbing up to the zip line was extra challenging because I was severely anemic, and regularly not getting enough oxygen (this was due to heavy menstrual cycles). I had been having dizzy spells, and having a hard time breathing when exercising, but I didn't find out that it was caused by severe anemia until much later. I'm so glad I didn't pass out while climbing up there, which was a real possibility). I strongly considered giving up several times, but the thought of climbing back down was also pretty scary, so I kept going.
When I reached the top, I would like to say that I enjoyed the view. I did momentarily, but then I noticed how much higher we were than the trees, and I looked down. Jittery legs. Terror . . . but our wonderful COPE (Challenging Outdoor Personal Experiences) leader was so encouraging. I don't know why I thought he was going to push me off of the landing. It was all on me to launch myself. I sat there for a minute trying to work up the nerve, but I realized that if I didn't just do it, I'd be sitting there all day. Instead of waiting to not be afraid, I decided to do it while afraid.
For the first few seconds after I pushed myself off the landing, I felt like I was going to die . . . but then I
started to feel like I was flying, and I felt so free! I was able to enjoy the view around me, the wind in my hair, and the fact that I hadn't let my fear control me. I still get that jittery feeling in my legs when I encounter heights, but now I know that I'm stronger than my fear, and that's a very important thing to know about myself.
I had another occasion to push through a phobia - arachnophobia. I didn't really have a choice, though. Dishon was in Rwanda, and there were a ton of baby spiders descending toward my bed from the ceiling. The fear of having a bunch of baby spiders (and the two significantly larger spiders that were also on my ceiling) all over my bed gave me the strength I needed to address that fear. I still cringe when I think about that. Sometimes you face fears, not because you're brave or ready, but because the alternative is far worse.
When I'm building the characters in my novel, I want to be mindful of the things they're afraid of, and how and why they'll go about addressing those fears. What are you afraid of? Whatever it is, just do it, like Nike. You'll be okay.
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