Do not fear the sting of death. It looms in every breath
When I was in 8th grade, I took this academic preparedness class. It changed my life. Except I don't really remember what we learned.
It's actually not the class, but one particular moment that I reflect on often. We were all asked to rate the percentage that various things affected our decisions: friends, religion, teachers, books, etc. I had just recently been homeschooled, and I guess I didn't take much advice from my friends, because I gave peer pressure a very low percentage.
I stand corrected.
This isn't the first time I have reflected on how awfully naive it was to think peers do not affect my decisions. But I am not here to dwell on all of my faults. Just this one experience:
For the past year, one of my friends has asked that I go to Six Flags amusement park with her. Amazingly, I worked every time she went. But last month, she realized I was not working on the day she wanted to go (yesterday), and so has been dropping hints. Asking me to check my calendar. Things like that.
I was reluctant. I hadn't been to an amusement park since elementary school. I was sure puberty must have changed something in my ability to tolerate the fear of death. Especially because last year I realized I was nervous about heights and TERRIFIED of rock climbing.
So I put it off.
But I felt guilty. I mean, this is something she really enjoys, and I keep blowing it off. That's not very nice, is it?
I sent her an inquiring text for details. With vague commitments. Wishy-washy answers. Then she sent the 'line-in-the-sand' text: she secured a ride up for me. I don't think she meant it to be a challenge, but I suddenly saw that I needed to make a stand. Would I go ride roller coasters, or would I stay at home and do pretty much the same thing I do every time I am home? Would I leave people hanging on this crucial personal decision? Have no Fear! Try new Things! Accept the certainty of sweaty Fun!
I went.
My thrill-seeking companions wanted to ride all of the twisty, loopy, dropping-your-stomach-about-100ft-behind attractions. Again I had a personal conversation: Will I Join them, fulfilling the whole reason of me coming, or will I sit on the bench?
I joined.
I had a method to prevent panic attacks. We would get in line. Long lines, plenty of time to get anxious. I would see how long the ride lasted, figure I could make it through 30 seconds, or a minute, or whatever it was, then I would carefully NOT look at the ride again. I would read all of the precautions. Examine the pictures of proper seat use. See the reaction of the people coming back off the ride. None of them looked dead. Okay, then.
And then I would try to sit in-between my friends. As a buffer.
As this post proves, I survived. But I had two near-panic moments--One as I was leaning nearly parallel to the ground about to be dropped in a loop, and one right before the turning drop that gave us the momentum to climb upside-down in a loop. It was that potential energy that frightened me. Once we got to the kinetic part, I was fine: it was exhilarating, there was a nice breeze, and with relief I could tell that I was alive.
I am proud to say I only backed off on the last ride, and it was a ride I had already conquered. The vertigo sensation was getting to me, so I just sat that one out, wishing I could instead get on a ride with these qualifications:
Can someone lend me a kid?
It's actually not the class, but one particular moment that I reflect on often. We were all asked to rate the percentage that various things affected our decisions: friends, religion, teachers, books, etc. I had just recently been homeschooled, and I guess I didn't take much advice from my friends, because I gave peer pressure a very low percentage.
I stand corrected.
This isn't the first time I have reflected on how awfully naive it was to think peers do not affect my decisions. But I am not here to dwell on all of my faults. Just this one experience:
For the past year, one of my friends has asked that I go to Six Flags amusement park with her. Amazingly, I worked every time she went. But last month, she realized I was not working on the day she wanted to go (yesterday), and so has been dropping hints. Asking me to check my calendar. Things like that.
I was reluctant. I hadn't been to an amusement park since elementary school. I was sure puberty must have changed something in my ability to tolerate the fear of death. Especially because last year I realized I was nervous about heights and TERRIFIED of rock climbing.
So I put it off.
But I felt guilty. I mean, this is something she really enjoys, and I keep blowing it off. That's not very nice, is it?
I sent her an inquiring text for details. With vague commitments. Wishy-washy answers. Then she sent the 'line-in-the-sand' text: she secured a ride up for me. I don't think she meant it to be a challenge, but I suddenly saw that I needed to make a stand. Would I go ride roller coasters, or would I stay at home and do pretty much the same thing I do every time I am home? Would I leave people hanging on this crucial personal decision? Have no Fear! Try new Things! Accept the certainty of sweaty Fun!
I went.
My thrill-seeking companions wanted to ride all of the twisty, loopy, dropping-your-stomach-about-100ft-behind attractions. Again I had a personal conversation: Will I Join them, fulfilling the whole reason of me coming, or will I sit on the bench?
I joined.
I had a method to prevent panic attacks. We would get in line. Long lines, plenty of time to get anxious. I would see how long the ride lasted, figure I could make it through 30 seconds, or a minute, or whatever it was, then I would carefully NOT look at the ride again. I would read all of the precautions. Examine the pictures of proper seat use. See the reaction of the people coming back off the ride. None of them looked dead. Okay, then.
And then I would try to sit in-between my friends. As a buffer.
As this post proves, I survived. But I had two near-panic moments--One as I was leaning nearly parallel to the ground about to be dropped in a loop, and one right before the turning drop that gave us the momentum to climb upside-down in a loop. It was that potential energy that frightened me. Once we got to the kinetic part, I was fine: it was exhilarating, there was a nice breeze, and with relief I could tell that I was alive.
I am proud to say I only backed off on the last ride, and it was a ride I had already conquered. The vertigo sensation was getting to me, so I just sat that one out, wishing I could instead get on a ride with these qualifications:
Can someone lend me a kid?
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