The Power of Fear

The start of the day was again picturesque. Just the right light sending beautiful hues over the trees. So much natural beauty it takes your breath away.
After some scheduled talks at the timeshare, we had the whole day in front of us to do whatever we pleased – the beauty of an unplanned vacation. Lovely.
We took a drive to Bingham Falls which is located just beyond the beautiful and yet austere Smugglers Notch Pass - a windy road that my husband said reminds him of a much larger version of Ess Hill in Bermuda. We drove past Bingham Falls because it is not sign posted but knew we had because we had dropped down into the valley. The wildness of the woods had disappeared.
When we finally found the Falls, it was worth it. The path way was narrow and surrounded by trees. The sign had been removed. Perhaps the locals are trying to preserve this reverent site for themselves. Understandably so. There was a certain silence that enveloped us as we walked along the path, the road disappearing behind us. Civilization gone. The sound of the waterfall becoming louder with each step. The rushing of water calling us. The path slippery, muddy, leaves falling around us. The smell of wet leaves permeating the air.
My husband and children walked to the edge to see the rushing water. I held my breath and stayed where I was. My fear of heights gluing me to the spot. I so wanted to go with them but with each step I tried to take, hot flashes shot through my body. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. The ground below calling my name if I even got close to the edge. Nausea came in waves. I gasped and told them to go on without me.
“Are you sure?” my husband asked. “I’ll hold your hand and take you down.”
I tried to get close to him but I couldn’t. A wall of fear had built like a fortress in front of me. Stopping me. Pushing me back.
“No,” I replied weakly. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” My hands clammy and shaking. “Go on ahead without me.”
“It’s okay mommy,” my daughter called. “There are steps mommy.”
I tried to get close but I couldn’t. I didn’t even get near enough to see the steps.
“You go on ahead,” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll wait here for you to come back.”
Disappointment spread through me as I watched my family disappear over the "edge" because that's what it felt like for me. I stood alone in the middle of the wood. Talking to myself, trying to silence the demons in my head. Trying to calm myself.
My head jerked side to side as every sound became a threat. It's strange how what was enchanting and beautiful a few seconds before when I was with my family had transformed into a dank and menacing world when I was on my own.
My mind starting playing tricks on me. Every falling leaf became some sort of menace. Dead tree trunks became creatures lurking in the woods. The sound of the rushing water still calling my name. The edge crept closer to me as I felt like the world was closing in on me. As the fear spread like a virus through my body while my thoughts were rushing through my mind, I turned and saw my family coming back to me. Smiles on their faces. Adventure gleaming from their eyes. Accomplishment oozing from their pores.
I was relieved to see them but at the same time I felt I had limited my possibility by letting fear overcome me. They said it was so beautiful down at the bottom of the falls. They chatted excitedly. I let my fear go. I let my disappointment go. I accepted that I had limited my own experience but was not about to spoil it for my family by staying in my funk.
I shook my apprehensive feelings away telling myself there is always another time to face my fear and go through it. Maybe. Some days are better than others for me when it comes to facing my fear and yesterday was just not one of those days.
We walked back through the beautiful pathway, all anxiety replaced with warmth as my husband wrapped his arms around me. My children jumping the rocks as we made our way back to civilization. And with every step away from the edge my breathing became less ragged and I was able to embrace the peacefulness of the moment once again.