What are you afraid of...?

Yesterday I went skiing. It was only the second time I ever went skiing, the first being around five years ago. My first time on the slopes was amazing; I learned the how-to pretty quickly, and loved the feeling of flying down the mountain. I was so blown away by the beauty of my surroundings that I had no time to be scared.

Well. Yesterday, I was rather impressed by the peaceful and soothing vistas of mountains covered in (fake) snow, and so I thought I'd be fine.

I wasn't.

After the hour-long lesson, reminding me just how to progress down the mountain, my friend and I got on the ski lift to ascend to the very top of the trails. The two guys running the ski lift asked us if we had off from school. We replied, yes. They then asked us which school we go to. We laughed and gleefully replied, "We're teachers," and then lifted off into the sky. That was one of the best parts of the day.

But once we reached the end of the lift and skied over to the green (beginners) trail, I had no idea what would happen next. We started down the mountain...gained momentum...and aaaaahhhhh!!!-heart-leaping-into-my-chest-stomach-seizing-must-stop-must-stop-going-too-fast...so I pushed out my legs into a pizza shape and stopped. My friend asked if I was okay, but I shook it off and tried again. And again. And again. Basically, the whole day progressed in the same manner -me doing very well, executing beautiful turns, and then getting overcome by the speed and the sensation of hurtling down the mountain and forcing myself to stop. Sometimes I would just fall, to get myself down, still, on the snow. It was fairly ridiculous, as it took me a veeeery long time to get back up. But no matter how slow I tried to go, I kept on just going too fast for my own comfort.

As the sun drifted slowly into the horizon, my friend and I discussed why I kept getting too scared to continue. It wasn't a lack of technique-I knew I was in control since I was able to stop, and it wasn't the height-I was alright on the mega high lifts. Really, it was the sensation that just perhaps I was not in total control of my own velocity, flying down the hill. The speed overcame all thoughts in my mind, until I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and I hated it. My friend loved the adrenaline, and it was hard for her to understand. She even led me onto a steep hill and said, "Okee, just go straight, don't slow down, it feels awesome!!" I tried, had to slow down, and even then I wouldn't talk to her for about ten minutes.

Everyone has their fears.

So what did I learn I am afraid of? Speed, probably. But more so the feeling of being out of control, of hurtling through life with no way to slow down and take matters in my own hands.

I'm also afraid of the dark when I'm alone, and can't see anything, and it's too quiet. But that can be a fear of isolation-not seeing, hearing, being with anyone.

I'm also afraid of people finding out I'm not as good as they might think me too be. But I think everyone shares that fear...



It's one of the most personal questions someone can ask you.


What are you afraid of?

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