The Fear Chronicles 3
It’s almost overwhelming finding a place to start talking about fear, what it does to us and what we do with it. I’ve really appreciated reading the comments and ideas from everyone on these posts, and more than anything I just want to initiate a conversation because it’s so interesting hearing ideas.
When I first started climbing, I felt enormously frustrated at being stopped from doing things by fear. Like many climbers, it drove me nuts that I could climb things on toprope that I couldn’t climb on lead with the threat of a lead fall. As a rock climber (climbing with ropes), I realized that pushing past my fear was always the answer. If I gave into it, I always ended up frustrated and stuck not progressing. If I pushed through it, whether I fell or succeeded, I improved and felt good about myself. So I believed for many years that this was the solution and in those environments and at that stage in my life, I guess it was.
When I started skydiving, it was the same story. Leaving the plane was always incredibly scary and mentally difficult to do at first. If I gave into the fear and doubt and didn’t get out, I’d feel terrible and disappointed in myself and deprived of the opportunity to learn, improve and have a powerful experience. I realized I had to force through the fear and get out the door.
Things got less clearcut when I started to base jump. In the beginning, every jump was terrifying and if I didn’t force past the fear, I’d never make a jump at all. So I followed the same rule, pushing past the fear, or even better, suppressing it completely in order not to be stopped by it. It didn’t take long to realize that this was not the right way. A good friend of mine, an impressive and experienced climber who had done many bold first ascents, learned this on an early base jump. He was alone at a bridge in the northwest, with less than ideal wind conditions. He told me he knew the wind conditions weren’t good, but he was completely terrified, and as a climber, his M.O. was that being terrified was the reason he SHOULD go for it. Despite his better judgment, he jumped, thinking that if he backed off he’d never be able to keep going on the future. He smashed his ankle badly, and went through surgeries for several years afterwards–he also continued to base jump and became a wiser and better jumper.
I also had several close calls on base jumps, where I felt a lot of fear and forced myself to jump in spite of, or because of it. Gradually I came to understand that I’m not the same person as that young climber who was being handicapped by irrational fear, and that the potential consequences have a bearing on the choice to push it or not. Now when I feel too much fear, that is reason enough alone for me to walk away, and I do so with conviction no matter what anyone else is doing or saying. I know that if I’m feeling powerful fear, there is a good reason for it and it’s probably telling me something, whether that reason is external or internal, and I have to listen. Going for it and pushing past the fear is no longer always the right choice for me. In fact, it’s usually the wrong choice, though at one time in my life and in certain environments it was very much the right choice.
It’s hard for me to give advice to others on fear and how to deal with it, though a lot of people ask me for it. No one is at the same place in their path. I know that I have been dealing with fear and my relationship to it on a daily basis in some pretty hands-on ways for over 20 years, and I also know that this relationship will continue to change. I see there is no formula that is the same for others, or for my own past or future selves. If someone asks me how to deal with fear, I’d say “Think. Listen.”
Very interesting. Another great post, Steph! Keep em coming 🙂
I’m new to skydiving and working through my A license with static line. I’ve been stuck on the same jump clear and pull for 4 jumps now. I don’t feel afraid when jumping, but my body is saying otherwise. Every time I reach for my pilot chute, my right leg kicks out cause bad body position. What’s so frustrating is I know what I’m doing wrong, but my body instinctually kicks out-probably because of fear. I’m constantly analyzing what I’m doing wrong, but I think that overthinking, frustration and subconscious fear is what is causing me to fail. I know I have to keep working at it, but unfortunately I have to wait until spring to start back up.
thanks Will
Take it easy on yourself: remember it would be pretty hard to learn to ride a bike if you only got to try it for 50 seconds at a time 🙂 you’ll get it.
I think you raise a very interesting point Steph that pushing past the fear worked for you often early on but that in the past few years you’ve found it less so. I don’t expect you to explicitly answer the questions I’m about to pose, but I raise them to you, myself and anyone else reading: when you have climbed extensively for 10+ years is the “fear” more relevant because you have a lot of hours of experience with which to assess the situation against? Whereas, early on the entire experience may be new (ie. the style, the exposure, the terrain, etc.) and therefore you had nothing with which to compare the fear against (and therefore the fear could’ve been simply of the unknown/untried)? And is listening to the fear or being more cautious something that comes with age/maturity? I’ve heard several professional climbers with 20+ years of experience discuss having found themselves becoming more cautious over the years compared to younger climbers with whom they have climbed/traveled. Is it that as we grow older we worry we’re not as strong/agile/whatever as in our younger years? Is it that generally when you’ve participated in a sport like climbing or mountaineering for 15+ years you’ve seen a lot of accidents/injuries, probably experienced a few yourself and thus have a broader understanding of just what can go wrong and the potential outcomes for whatever situation? Assessing the risk for oneself and whether you’ll still fine committing given the conditions and the possible outcomes makes sense, but attempting to do that mid-route or when you reach the crux and are “gripped” is never fun (not at least in my experience 😉 )
I’ve been whitewater kayaking for over 7 years now. When I am out on a hard run, I know if I look at a a challenging rapid whether or not I have the skills to run it. Somedays I look at rapids I’ve run smoothly dozens of time, and just know that today is not the day. For many years, I ignored that intuition, and as a result was gripped most of the time. The older I got, the more ok I got with walking things if I simply wasn’t feeling it. This approach has not only helped me enjoy paddling more, but has also made me a better boater. Working on listening to the voice developed my confidence which lowers my fear.
Thanks Beth for all the interesting thoughts! For me the point is not that I am more cautious now in the same environments, but that I am moving more regularly and easily in more dangerous environments than I used to be, and that I have come to realize that my learned reaction to fear is not appropriate in these environments. So we have to be continuously mindful–nothing stays the same.
I do believe in intuition–we don’t always hear it, but when we do, we should listen.
I’m batting a thousand so far for answered comments, though this may be the end of my run, or ought to be, considering my mere observer status thus far. But I do have a not altogether rhetorical question — followed by an observation — wingsuit flying, both of which I pose to an uncommon observer:
Are we perhaps heretofore wrongheaded about conditions and limitations, when we consider that robust (enough) winds will stir up (weaken) killer katabatic currents, and therefore a balance between too high and too low winds must we seek and find for flight, or if not found, for flight aborted?
On musing that one man builds a ramp to clear cliff based on a sacred respect, while another finds the scoop-out lower limit of the Moab cliffs by ribald experiment, I am reminded of your relatively recent observation that the trend to mostest and bestest leads nowhere. Nowhere is becoming an increasingly popular destination, but waypoint Well-founded Fear, eschewed.