I am scared of heights which is ironic because I’m six foot tall. And I wear heels. And I’m a Capricorn. It appears my destiny is to inhabit high places. It’s a weird fear. I don’t remember ever not being terrified. As a kid I don’t recall anything in particular that set it off. Except maybe Mr Fredericks, the old man across the road, dangling me by my feet from his verandah for fun. His, not mine. These days he would have been reported to Child Protection. Back then he was just given another beer and handed another child.
Fear of heights is weird. It comes with the compulsion to throw myself off. I can feel the gravity. Pulling me down. It’s nauseating. It means that if I am in a high place I can’t stand. My legs literally give way. It has a name. It’s known as ‘the call of the void’. It’s how my brain interprets being in an unsafe situation. It has a cool French name, L’appel du vide. Here in Australia I’m just a big wuss. Neurotic.
It’s very uncool. And limiting. There’s lots of things I have avoided. Like sky diving. Bungee jumping. Abseiling. I have absolutely no desire to conquer my fear. I am happy for my amygdala to hijack the show. I don’t feel my life would be better on a bungee. People that are obsessed with conquering their fears intrigue me. Why wouldn’t you just avoid the scary thing and get good at something else?
That’s always been my plan. I prefer books to elevated nooks. I prefer getting high to actually being high.
The first time I took acid I remember being acutely aware of gravity. For 20 hours it’s all I could say. ‘Gravity’. It freaked my friends out. Because I am super chatty. So only saying one word over and over was unnerving. It’s all I could focus on. I could feel the magnetic pull holding me on the planet. Like iron filings on a sheet of paper with a magnet beneath. I had gone out dancing, but spent the entire night stuck to the floor. When I am in a high place I get a flashback to that psychedelic experience, which certainly didn’t cure my fear, I think it affirmed it. ‘Gravity’. It’s intense man. And strong as F.
I am naturally height avoidant. I don’t usually tell people, because it’s embarrassing. But I can’t stand balconies. When we had a holiday in Hawaii my husband booked us into the Hilton on the 23rd floor. I was beside myself. I had to do a mindfulness meditation just to sit on the bed. I couldn’t bear the kids being on the balcony. I couldn’t stop imagining them plummeting to their deaths. The edge was so visceral. This tiny barrier between life and oblivion. It’s a common symptom, I’ve later found out, of OCD, something I developed from childhood trauma. An adrenaline-charged gift that binds my consciousness to things I can no longer remember but am still controlled by. The brain truly is amazing. Please book me on the ground floor.
Fear of heights is logical. I’m sure that it’s a phobia that has some basis in the survival instinct. Heights are dangerous for humans. We’ve got legs, not wings. I sometimes wonder how birds feel. Whether they have fear of flat places. A compulsive drive to fly in front of a car?
Even writing this makes me feel sick. Because I am imagining high places and I can feel the acrophobia. Racing heart. Dizziness. Vulnerability. L’appel du vide.
This week I am walking the Scenic Rim. It’s three days. When I signed up I kind of missed the height aspect. I just thought ‘forest walk’. The scenic bit should have been a clue. As should have ‘rim’. Anyway, looks like I am going to a high place. Wish me luck.
All I can think is, gravity.
– Mandy Nolan
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