When it comes to phobias, one of the most common is acrophobia, which is the fear of heights. In fact, approximately 5% of the population has it—including yours truly.
For me, the ascent is no biggie. It’s the descent that makes me break out into a cold sweat. A few years ago, my family and I climbed to the Statue of Liberty’s crown and took in the majestic view of the NYC skyline. It was great, until I had to climb back down the long, narrow staircase, and the fear of falling took over. After many stops for some deep breathing exercises, I reached the bottom in tears, vowing never to return.
Truthfully, though, my fear of heights hasn’t kept me from doing much. After all, I’ve never daydreamed about rock climbing, skydiving, or zip-lining. And it doesn’t prevent me from getting on a plane to travel. But there has been one thing I’ve always wanted to do but could never muster up the courage for: jumping off a diving board.
Growing up, my parents would take my sisters and me to the town pool, where I would watch all the kids—many of them my friends—go off the diving board. It looked so fun—and so high up. Every June, I would say to myself, This is the summer I jump off that board. And every year, the summer would inevitably end with me being too afraid to do it.
Making a deal
Fast forward many years and I now have two boys—ages 15 and 12—who love to go to our town pool and jump off the diving boards. And for years, they have nagged me to do it with them. At first, I made up different excuses. It was more fun to watch them jump. I wanted to sit and chat with my friends. The chlorine could damage my highlights (hey, this is a valid excuse). But during the pandemic, when all we had to do was go to the pool, I finally confessed to them that I was simply too afraid to do it.
Despite their love for diving boards, both of my kids are the “play it safe” type. They don’t typically step out of their comfort zones, but with both getting older, my husband and I have been encouraging them to try new things. For instance, our younger son hates sports—all of them. While we’re generally fine with that, we would like him to do something physically active as well as open himself up to meeting some new kids in school. He loves to run, so I thought joining the cross-country team would be the best fit.
To say he was reluctant is an understatement, and he made every argument possible to get out of it. What if he couldn’t keep up with the other kids? What if they didn’t like him—or he didn’t like them? What if the coach was mean?
I knew these worries were all fear-based, so I made a deal with him. If I faced my fear of the diving board over the summer, he would face his come the fall and join cross country. To my surprise (and a little bit of dismay), he agreed.
Taking the plunge
So, on a warm day this past June—a few days after my 50th birthday—I climbed onto the lowest diving board at the town pool and faced my fear, with my children cheering me on. I was nervous but determined. And although my technique was more “walk the plank” than graceful dive, I got it done. I even went off two more times before the day was through.
Am I now a diving enthusiast? Nope. But I did finally check board diving off my bucket list—and my boys were super proud of me. The experience is a memory I made with them that I hope they’ll remember for years to come. Maybe it will motivate them to move past their own fears, or it might simply be a funny story they tell their kids one day. No matter what, I have zero regrets (despite the fact I had to pay extra at the hair salon to fix my highlights, which were impacted by the chlorine).
Oh, and as for my son, he stuck to his end of the deal and joined cross country this past fall. And he loved it!
