On Fear

When I told people about my plans to leave my job and embark on a solo road trip and “walkabout,” a few remarked that I must be fearless. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just doing it anyway. The truth is, I’m afraid of many, many things. To some, that might come as a surprise, but I’m sure others would respond laughingly with “no shit.” There is no question to me that the fear center in my brain works. Perhaps a bit too much at times.

Here are just a few of my many fears, a non-exhaustive list:

I’m scared of the dark. Really. I’m 33 years old and I’m afraid of the dark. I ain’t hanging out in any basement with the lights off if I don’t have to. Lights go out and I’m bookin’ it up those stairs. I’m not sure if that’s absurd or we’re all still doing that… I can’t walk through the woods in darkness without being completely on edge. What if the Blair Witch is out there? Little rodents rustling around in the dark could be anything. Using a headlamp somehow makes the woods even scarier.

I’m scared of aliens. I’m not trying to get abducted by any of those fellas. I know I’d get the Kate McKinnon aliens not the Ryan Gosling aliens. Have you seen Signs? Those things were huge. Water, really? I’m not banking on that deus ex machina if we go toe to toe with extraterrestrials. I don’t even like ET.

I obviously am not a big fan of scary movies.

I’m scared of the vastness of space. What’s out there or what isn’t out there? Is that a normal thought to have? Do others just ignore how weird outer space is? You will not catch me on a flight to the moon or Mars any time soon. Can you imagine looking out a window and seeing the entire earth… not where you are?

I am terrified of certain social situations. I’ll just leave it at that for now.

I was scared of making mistakes at work. Little mistakes and intricate worst case scenarios that would never plausibly happen. Scared of letting down those that relied on me. Scared or at the very least extremely nervous about speaking at length in front of an intimidating crowd.

I’m scared of getting my blood drawn. I have a nice fainting experience at my doctor on my resume and then was probably flagged in the notes as a faint risk. Little tree falls lightly.

I’m scared of leaving the oven/stove on or my apartment being destroyed in a fire. Again. I don’t have an apartment at the moment so this has morphed into a fear of burning down the forest.

I’m scared of narrow fairways with hazards on both sides and tight lies to a tucked pin over a bunker. My driver is so heinous right now I’m basically afraid of any tee shot.

I’m scared of swimming in deep open water and when weeds touch my feeties in a lake. I still want to swim with sharks and whales (and whale sharks).

I’m scared of someone robbing my car which now has all my daily possessions.

I’m scared of “breaking the rules.”

I was scared for large parts of the COVID pandemic. Mostly that I would unknowingly be contagious, get someone else sick, ruin their plans, get them seriously ill, or lead to their death. I think this prolonged state of fear and worry that I lived in has exacerbated my state of fear even through today.

I’m scared of heights. This one is a bit weird because I love hiking and I’m not generally scared while hiking on my own two feet. Put me on a windy, exposed, one-foot ledge or some via ferrata and that fear will kick in. I’m scared of gondolas, funiculars, and ski lifts. Those glass/metal floors you can look down a million feet to the ground below. I worked my way up to some level of comfort in Switzerland riding cable cars every day, but it’s not my favorite method of transportation even if I have the utmost faith in Swiss engineering. I also walked out over one of those aforementioned steel grates hanging off the side of a cliff and have tiptoed over glass panels.

Bungee jumping was another defiance of this fear. Once was enough. It was in the rainforest in Costa Rica on a group trip 10 years ago. I thought it was going to be the last stop of the trip, but when I arrived the first night there was a sign at the hostel that said, “Bungee tomorrow!” with a little stick man in free fall.

F.

It was about a three-hour drive on winding Costa Rican dirt roads to Monteverde Extremo. My tour group of mostly young Canadians spent the drive getting muy burracho on liquid courage while I sat looking out the window asking myself for three hours, “am I going to do this?”

It was a weird cocktail of courage, a still developing frontal cortex, and known future regret if I opted out that led me to take the plunge. There was no peer pressure from anyone just a conversation I had with myself. Alcohol was not involved. My rule was that I had to go first, and I would not look at anyone else do it. I certainly heard them though…

We went out to the middle of the valley on a metal tram, I took the smallest steps of mankind, said “pura vida” when commanded, but was thinking “this is it,” and hurled myself off the edge. It’s a strange experience that’s hard to describe. The air hitting your face in freefall is so strong it’s tough to really know what’s going on other than there’s definitely treetops approaching. From a distance the trees almost look soft though I knew they would not gently impale me. Side note: they undo part of the strap at your feet before you jump which is extremely unnerving. So yes, I’ve done that, once, but I’m still afraid of heights. I still get jelly legs and the ground sometimes does that “wowowowow” thing like in cartoons.

I’m reasonably scared of flying. I have flown many times, but I’m always scared. I don’t take Xanax or anything to deal with the fear and I’m not hyperventilating, I just have terrible racing thoughts at takeoff and anytime we hit turbulence. This fear has certainly gotten better from exposure and if anyone funds a lay flat seat for me, I’m chillin’. Venmo is open.

I’m scared of whitewater rafting and in particular something that’s known as “foot entrapment.” Terrifying. I went anyways recently and thankfully remained in the boat through all the rapids other than the safe “float rapids.” I’m glad I did it because the whitewater rafting in New River Gorge in West Virginia was one of the highlights of my trip so far.

I’m scared of camping alone. My first camping experience of my entire life in Shenandoah National Park was all of a month ago. I tried to cancel the reservation about ten times the day of. I had an easy out staying at a cheap hotel in Charlottesville, and I figured I could learn to camp another day.

As fate, (or an online booking system that doesn’t allow same day cancellations…) would have it, I wasn’t able to back out. So I went to cancel in person to avoid any no-show repercussions. When I got to the campsite it was full of retirees, young couples, and families having a grand old time. All these people could do it so why couldn’t I? I also realized that I, a random weird man by himself, was the archetype for what all they should be worried about. So, I mustered the courage and I camped alone. I was scared. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had the lamest setup in the campsite by far, but it was no big deal and I’ve grown to appreciate camp life. I’m still a little scared each night…but a little less scared too. I still worry about waking up in the middle of the night with a bear sniffing at my tent. Bears are scary, even if they mostly leave people alone. Things go bump in the night. I now have situational nightmares while sleeping in my tent which are a real hoot. Either that, or an eight foot tall man actually walked past my tent in the middle of the night last night and then I failed my Spanish exam. Naked for some reason.

I’m scared of death. It’s the ultimate fear. Anyone who contemplates death likely has the same fear. Again, I’m not sure how weird of a thought that is to have on a regular basis… but it’s something I think about. The bright side of a fear of death is that it can lead to a greater appreciation of life and the time we have left. For that, I am grateful. The Roman philosophers and stoics (no I don’t frequently think about the Roman Empire…) even kept physical symbols, “memento mori,” to remind them that life is ephemeral.

I’m scared of getting punched in the face and scared of boxing even though I have some very limited experience in the sport. The first time I sparred I was truly terrified and there is no other way to put this, I got my shit rocked. My face, his fists, repeatedly. It was a useful lesson that “you don’t play boxing.” It was also a lesson I would have learned 15 seconds into the round rather than the entire three minutes.

For the next four months of training, I was scared every time I stepped into the ring to spar. Through exposure, the fear decreased, but never went away completely. I would get punched in the face before work and a couple times on the weekends. Waking up to step into a ring is an interesting morning routine. I’m not someone who enjoys getting socked in the face. Some people genuinely seemed to enjoy it.

I was most scared in a boxing ring the first time I sparred someone at “full speed.” I didn’t sleep much the night before and was extremely nervous as I waited my turn to step into the ring and fight in front of everyone else training for the charity boxing match and a bunch of trainers. Actual boxers. It was all a blur, I don’t grade my performance very highly, there was a lot of flailing, but it was over before I knew it.

Eventually, sparring even grew to be “fun” to some extent. Mostly after it was over. When I finally stepped into the ring on fight night, I was ironically the least afraid of the entire experience. Yes, I could embarrass myself, break my nose, or get knocked out in front of a thousand people including my friends and family, but I put in the training and I felt confident. At least in that one moment I was able to come to the realization that worry would not help me now, so what was the point? Someone in the weigh in line even asked me why I was so relaxed. I had spent four months visualizing this night. Months of worry that got me out of bed and into the gym everyday. This was the “reward” for all the hard work. I had to wait five hours from my Skeletor weigh in to the opening bell, but I managed to stay relaxed. Your body can’t take five hours of nerves before a fight so you have to try to stay calm, save your adrenaline for show time. Pros are basically asleep until it’s time to get ready.

One small blip came when the wrong walk out song came on, but there wasn’t time to worry about it. I can only describe the fight as an out of body experience. It felt more like Wii boxing than you would think. All you see is the other person in the ring. I was there, I was the one throwing the punches (head-body-head-body), getting hit in the face, but the experience felt like a movie. It was the longest three rounds in the history of boxing, but it too was over before I knew it. It was the proudest moment of my life and I’m glad I conquered that fear if only for a few months. I have limited desire of getting hit in the face again.

I’m scared of driving. Well, I’m not scared of driving per se, I’m just scared of several driving scenarios… mountain roads with steep drop offs, semi-trucks on the highway, driving over tall bridges, inopportune flat tires, when it’s really windy and you can feel the car moving from side to side, animals (generally hooved animals: deer, elk, cows, moose) jumping out onto the road, driving in bad snow/ice/rain, driving in the dark on unfamiliar roads, driving in NYC traffic, and perhaps a few more I can’t remember right now…

This is another surprising set of fears given the fact that I’m currently on a road trip and have already logged over six thousand miles, but a lot of driving is frightening to me. Again, exposure helps. The whole not driving for years in New York and then renting an unfamiliar car was not a good recipe for me. See Argentinian gravel roads in the middle of nowhere with puddles of unknown depth, driving up Mount Rainier, and gale force winds in a South Carolina storm as prior harrowing experiences.

More recently, there have been two national park drives that have brought out the sweaty palms. The first was in Zion back in January. I stayed near the park alone in a little cabin (yup, that scared me too… I locked the bedroom door within the cabin at night as if that was really going to do much…). When I drove to the cabin it was pitch black on the Zion Mount Carmel Highway, but I could tell I was driving up switchbacks even if I couldn’t see anything off the side. I just focused on the road itself and didn’t worry about anything else, which I believe is the goal of driving… It was just snowy enough on the road to get me worrying. Not snowy enough at 25 mph to be particularly dangerous, but enough to get the brain (mis)firing.

I made it through without issue and it wasn’t until the next morning driving back from a 5am coffee run that I saw the heights and the fear really came in. The morning drive in darkness was perfectly fine, I drove slow and still couldn’t tell what was on either side of the road. Once the sun came up and I saw some of the drop-offs the road became a new beast.

Looking back on it, it’s not a very scary road. At all. It was the tiny bit of snow and the perceived or real threat of annoying mule deer or other cars that had me worried. The things outside my control. I was so worried that it was all I could think about at dinner about an hour and a half away. After too much deliberation, I ultimately took a longer, but flatter road home from dinner that would add about 45 minutes to the drive. No biggie.

Part of that route I learned was very remote (new fear, stranded with no cell service) and was FULL of mule deer. I saw hundreds of sets of eyes reflecting my headlights. Guess we’re taking this 35mph the whole way and adding another hour. I saw maybe three other cars along this mule deer stretch through a Native American reservation. They all passed me going 75+. I finally started to relax when one of the passing trucks had a Steelers sticker on the back window. A small sign of comfort. They probably flipped me off on the way by…

If you’re still here (bravo), this was the longest possible lead-in to the point that there are many times in life where I think my fears, nerves, worries, anxiety, whatever you want to call it is focused on a perceived threat that might not actually represent danger. Driving slowly through the mountain road focusing on the road is not all that dangerous even with a steep drop off. My mind had built it up so much that it became a real fear that impacted my decisions.

Ironically, the mule deer on the “safe” road represented an actual risk. They were everywhere and have no fear of cars. They would remain in the middle of the road until I came to a virtual standstill before moving. They were around every bend and over every hill. If I hit one at a decent clip it would do serious damage to the car and/or me. A similar story for swerving out of the way to avoid one. In the middle of nowhere it could be a long time before getting help.

I thought a lot after the trip about where this road metaphor could be applied to my life. Where is my perception outweighing the actual danger? Where am I focusing only on the worst thing that could possibly happen rather than focusing on whatever I need to be doing in the moment? Where in my life do I think I’m on a switchback winding mountain road when I’m actually inside a tunnel, protected from the real danger rather than exposed to the elements? In that first pitch black trip through Zion it all looked the same…

And perhaps most importantly what roads am I avoiding taking altogether because of my fears?

Before you think I’ve conquered this, I found myself in a similar situation recently in Glacier National Park on the Going to the Sun Road. This road is terrifying, I don’t care who you are. I drove east to west (the mountain not the cliff side), but either direction is enough to get the B-Rabbit sweaty palms out and the hair raised on the back of your neck. If the Going to the Sun Road is a 4.5/5 on the sweaty palms scale that Zion road is like a 2 for reference.

It is without a doubt the most scenic and beautiful road I’ve ever driven and my number one recommendation for anyone visiting Glacier. It’s also not for the faint of heart. I spent very little of the drive looking off the side, but what I did see was incredible. Unfortunately this evidence is all in my memory since I didn’t stop at any of the turnouts on the way down (what if my brain short circuits and I put the car in drive instead of reverse and careen off the side?) Better to just get in the zone, listen to my tunes and make my way down the pass. At the time, I thought I still had to drive back along the same road to get back to camp. This time I would have to brave the cliffside without the comfort of hugging the rocks and a lane between me and the edge.

When I got down to West Glacier there was a bit of an adrenaline dump and my mind started acting a fool. I mostly dealt with it, but the fear of the drive back the treacherous way lingered. I ate a lunch I thought least likely to come back up mid-drive and convinced myself that I needed gas because I couldn’t trust the “miles to empty” estimate when driving up such a steep grade. Did it take three times more gas than estimated at that grade? Four times? I didn’t want to find out halfway through the drive and run out of gas. (Editors note: I 100% had more than enough gas I just didn’t want to add that fear to the mixing bowl…).

So, I left the park to get gas but was prepared as much as I could be for the drive back. I could do this. Focus on the road. Take it at a snail’s pace. It’s an hour of terror and then I’m done. When I went back to the park, I got my out. Due to a timed entry process, I would have to wait an hour to enter, or, the ranger told me, I could take Highway 2. A longer route in miles, but one that would likely get me home sooner.

Highway 2 you say? OK, I’m out. Enough conquering my fears for the day. So I left. I was 100% convinced Zion would repeat itself and a moose would run out onto Highway 2 and prove my decision making wrong again. Thankfully, no moose arrived. Yes, I have a bit of FOMO from not taking in all the views on that section of the drive, but that’s OK. Just Google it. My photography wasn’t going to win any competition depicting views that millions of people have photographed. I decided I didn’t need to push it and maybe more than anything else I didn’t need to wait for an hour more with nothing and no one to distract me from my intrusive thoughts of what could go wrong on that road.

Maybe I just wasn’t meant to drive back on that road that day. Maybe I had already maxed out my courage, and this was the universe telling me to take the easy road, which is fine sometimes. Maybe it’s good to have something new to conquer on the next trip to Glacier, preferably as the passenger princess with someone less afraid of heights behind the wheel.

So to sum all this up, I am frequently scared on this trip. Sometimes I’m terrified. I just go at my own pace, make decisions that I feel are best for me in each situation and gradually address some of these fears through exposure. I think I would rank top quartile in intrusive fear and I accept that. It’s not a competition. I know being fearless isn’t in the cards for me. I just hope I grow to be a little less scared than I was yesterday. I try my best not to let these fears control my life. I’m scared of heights, but I go hiking. I’m scared of driving, but I drive. I’m scared of what’s out there, but I explore. It all gets a little easier over time.

Because if there is one thing I fear more than anything else, even death, it’s not truly living. I want to live a lived life.

So, I try my best to do the things that scare me when I know it’s worth it. When it comes with the chance to live a little more. To see or experience something I haven’t tackled yet. I hope anyone that reads this pushes themselves to do something soon (safely) that they’re afraid of. Plan something you wouldn’t normally do because you’re too scared to do it (you may call it something else to yourself or others…) Something you know deep down that you want to experience and that the fear is mostly just in your head. If it helps, know that I am out here, scared, but doing it anyway. One of my 101 Things to Remember is “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.”

You might have pictured me on this road trip driving with the windows down, golden hour rays shining, belting out my favorite songs and there’s plenty of that. There’s also scared, white-knuckled, sweaty-palmed me dealing with my fears and slowly pushing forward. I am happy with both of these versions of me.

Reading this you may think these fears are ridiculous and the “courage” in addressing them is simply doing activities that millions of people of all ages do, and I guess that’s true for many of my fears. But I can’t control what I’m scared of or why and neither can you. I myself am not scared of snakes. I love snakes. So I probably got you on that one…

I plan on writing more frequently (and significantly shorter) in the future. Nobody wants to read this much and I doubt many will make it this far… Hi, Mom! I’m OK!

Writing about my thoughts and feelings in public is another thing that scares me, but I want to chronicle this experience and become a better writer in the process. So I will try to write more regularly. I know it will be worth it (if only for future me) if I push through. One revealing insight into my psyche at a time.

Thanks.