Help! Help! I'm Falling!

Well, not really – it really isn't that far. Maybe two feet. I won't die but I'll probably get black and blue when I tumble helplessly off the chair while changing a light bulb.

Yep – I have acrophobia which is an unreasonable fear of heights. I know it's unreasonable. I know it's only two feet. Babies are almost two feet long when they're born. So, it really isn't that high. Below my knees, I think. But still – standing on a chair is like standing on a tight wire hung from the Empire State Building . . . connected to. . . where?? And with no net.

My fear of heights is embarrassingly unreasonable. I have a ceiling fan with four decorative lights that has cobwebs and bugs and things and burnt out lights, all four of them. I can't even reach it if I stand on a chair. I have to stand on the kitchen table, which means I have to drag it under the ceiling fan about five feet away; then I have to climb on the table from the chair. Then I stand veeeeerrrrryyyy slowly and try to balance myself on the table. I have to do this when I am alone because my sons just laugh and holler (and the noise adds to the non-equilibrium). Then I have to take a long handled dust mop and swipe at the blades, which start to turn, which makes me dizzy, and even more unbalanced. {shudder} O my.

So I have a ceiling fan that hasn't been touched by mop, dust rag, or anything else from my hand in about five years. Please don't look up when you come to dinner.

I discover new things that add to my fear of heights – besides changing light bulbs and cleaning ceiling fans. Fire escape stairs. I cannot go down fire escape stairs. I can go up just fine.

I went to see a friend in an apartment building that had fire escape stairs that went to the second floor. I didn't give it a second thought as I skipped up the stairs to her apartment. Once there I realized that 301 was not on the second floor, it was on the third floor. So I turned to go up the next flight when I froze. I could SEE through the stairs to the ground far, FAR below me. I couldn't move. A couple came out of an apartment and I just stood there.

* Can we help you?
* O no, I'm fine, just waiting for a friend (and I don't want you to know I can't move my legs to go down the stairs)

Off they go and I wait for them to leave the parking lot and I inch towards the precipice of the top stair (having decided I am NOT going up to the third floor, no way, no how). I can't move. I try and try – foot out over the sheer drop to outer space – foot back – try again – foot back. Finally I sat down and scooched my butt down each step. Shredded my nylons. And felt like a total idiot.

To add insult to injury, there was some guy sitting in his car at the bottom of the stairs who had been watching me the whole time. I just noticed him as I lept from the bottom step to the safety of my car. Stared at me the whole time!!!

I visited another friend who lived on the second floor and her stairs were solid – no see through stuff – so again, I thought nothing of going UP the stairs. Coming down was just as bad as the fire escape stairs. So here is my friend, nine months pregnant looking like she's going to pop any second helping me down the stairs.

Hmmm, wonder if that is why I don't get Christmas cards from her anymore.

So, I've figured out that I can go up stairs perfectly normal, whether they are see-through or not. I just can't go down.

Want to know why I'm divorced? I mean really divorced? Because my soon to be husband (now ex) thought it was hilarious that the ferris wheel at the fairgrounds was STUCK with us at the very top and I'm sobbing and wailing. He took his camera out and snapped a picture of me. That's why I'm divorced.

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