I have an extremely irrational fear of heights that pretty much rules out a good number of things I want to do in life.
This extends even more emotionally to flying, which scares the living daylights out of me.
I don’t want my fears to rule my life, however, so sometimes I fight through them, like a recent flight I took to visit friends in Jersey.
It’s only an hour and a quarter to the Channel Islands, 11 miles off the coast of France, but I was still petrified.
I even had to visit the doctor to get some pills to calm me down.
I was flying on the Thursday but was dreading it from the Monday and didn’t get a decent sleep all that week.
In fact, the night before I think I saw every hour on the clock.
The flight was fine, no worries, but I was so nervous I turned into a gibbering wreck who visits the toilet more than all the other passengers put together.
In 2008, I flew to Cuba and the 11-hour trip was basically a white knuckle ride for me.
Again, I had to get tablets and it seem this fear is gradually getting worse as I get older.
I’ve even taken up hill walking to try and conquer it but it hasn’t worked so far.
I panic and almost pass out if I come anywhere near a sheer drop, but I still do it.
It’s funny for the people who are with me when they see me crawling along next to an edge or turning back to go another way.
But what I’ve come to learn is that nothing is ever achieved if fear gets in the way. I had a brilliant time in Jersey and would have missed the opportunity had I let my fear rule what I did.
I know I’ve got a few challenges ahead and I’m dreading the flight to Rio for the 2014 World Cup already.
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