What are you Afraid of?
Fear is a funny thing. It's an instinctive reaction that's been built into us through millions of years of evolution to protect us from many number of things that could kill us: a woolly mammoth, a saber toothed tiger, our crazy-ass neighbor Ned. But evolution's survivalist purpose for fear is now a bit antiquated; at least in a developed nation, blissfully disconnected to many of the terrors of the world like the ravages of war, or the instability of poverty. Living in a country with relatively little danger, fear tends to place itself in, well, quirkier dimensions of our lives.
Besides the more existential fears of modern woman, such as failure at life, or the infallible certainly of our own mortality, people tend to be afraid of some pretty weird stuff.
One particular such fear for me happens to be a fear of rock climbing. And (parenthetically), I just recently learned that a friend of mine has the same exact fear.
Yes, I know, the fear of heights is common, as is the (rational) fear of falling from a high place.
This isn't what is happening in my moments of suspended terror.
I am not irrationally afraid of heights or of falling. When standing on a cliff, I'm willing to peek over the edge. When high above the earth zooming at hundreds of miles an hour in a tin can - I'm doing just dandy, thank you. But get me on belay, and I am freaked. out. In my attempts to be a human functioning in society, I tend to make it up the wall (slowly) and down the wall (slowly) with, what I'm hoping, is not a lot of fanfare. But by the end, I am sweaty palmed and my heart is racing. For propriety's sake, I make the long journey up the rock climbing wall once. thankyouverymuch.
I could speculate as to why I have this fear. Maybe it's a deep-seated control issue manifesting itself, maybe it's my (probably well-founded) doubt in the strength of my quads. Whatever the case may be, it's, well, a lame-ass fear. But I suppose given the choice between a rock wall and a hungry woolly mammoth, I'll keep my rock wall.
Though I bet my rock wall adrenaline could hold up in a standoff against the woolly mammoth. Just sayin'.
Besides the more existential fears of modern woman, such as failure at life, or the infallible certainly of our own mortality, people tend to be afraid of some pretty weird stuff.
One particular such fear for me happens to be a fear of rock climbing. And (parenthetically), I just recently learned that a friend of mine has the same exact fear.
Yes, I know, the fear of heights is common, as is the (rational) fear of falling from a high place.
This isn't what is happening in my moments of suspended terror.
I am not irrationally afraid of heights or of falling. When standing on a cliff, I'm willing to peek over the edge. When high above the earth zooming at hundreds of miles an hour in a tin can - I'm doing just dandy, thank you. But get me on belay, and I am freaked. out. In my attempts to be a human functioning in society, I tend to make it up the wall (slowly) and down the wall (slowly) with, what I'm hoping, is not a lot of fanfare. But by the end, I am sweaty palmed and my heart is racing. For propriety's sake, I make the long journey up the rock climbing wall once. thankyouverymuch.
I could speculate as to why I have this fear. Maybe it's a deep-seated control issue manifesting itself, maybe it's my (probably well-founded) doubt in the strength of my quads. Whatever the case may be, it's, well, a lame-ass fear. But I suppose given the choice between a rock wall and a hungry woolly mammoth, I'll keep my rock wall.
Though I bet my rock wall adrenaline could hold up in a standoff against the woolly mammoth. Just sayin'.
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