I have known I was doing better mentally, but I had no idea how much better until tonight. I am deathly afraid of heights. Now I cannot figure out which heights bother me, but some do and some don't. Flying doesn't. Walking (ok, crawling) across the Royal Gorge does. Who knows what the answer.
Every year on the 4th of July, the tradition is that they close the auto traffic down on the old bridge for pedestrians to walk up on it and watch the fireworks on the Atchafalaya river. This bridge is high enough for good sized tugs to go under. There are 3-5 foot spans of just metal grating built into it - I am sure for expansion. If you look through those spans when walking on it, looking straight down, you can see the river. Every year, Steve has to coax me across and my heart stops beating until I finally 'brave it up' or he pulls me across. Now logically, I KNOW I cannot fall through it. But try telling my brain that!
Tonight, walking up the bridge, I didn't even once think about it going up. I realized that at the top of the bridge! WHOOO HOOOO! Coming down I was concious of them, but walked right on across like it was nothing. What a HUGE step for me!
Didja hear that Steve? I DID IT! You would be so shocked! Maybe I really am coming back!
3 comments:
Mom! Good Job! Not only did you get past the fear of heights, but your night blindness as well. I was always your guide up and down stairs, especially in the dark. Good job :)
Thanks Jer Bear. Someone understands! What a good feeling :-) And you remembered about the dark. I often wonder if anyone does... Now I know.
Mom, remember when you would walk up or down stairs, or over any kind of rough or unsure terrain, your son would always be the one to think "Mom needs help" and run over without you saying anything? Of course I remember, I took pride in knowing when you needed me without you saying anything, and I loved being there for you at the right times. When your mom has done so much for you in your life, it's nice to be there for her for the little things that you can.
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