I have a fear of falling. I thought I overcame it during my martial arts days, but I didn’t. I’m still afraid of falling, and my recent adventures with roller skating and jumping on a trampoline have brought my fear to the fore.
I know why I have a fear of falling. I was thirteen or fourteen, and I was at a summer camp. During a game under the auspicious name of “Kill the Camper,” I took a hard fall. I skinned my knee so badly that it bears a scar to this day. For the rest of the week, I was branded as the kid who was killed during “Kill the Camper.” I remember that it was difficult to walk, and I remember having to ice my knee for several nights in a row.
Still, I was a teenager. I should have overcome my fear of falling and skinned knees long ago. I haven’t. I panicked when I was on that trampoline. I panicked again when I was trying to roller skate.
I wish I weren’t afraid. I wish I could wave a magic wand and be done with my fear. I know that isn’t going to happen. I know that I’m going to have to struggle with my fear. I might have to put on the roller skates again. I might have to get back on the trampoline. Will I?