Whenever I tell anyone about my phobia they laugh uproariously. Because, apparently, it’s really funny to laugh at people with psychological problems. Listen jerks, I know it’s funny. The irony that I’m 6’5″ and afraid of heights is not lost on me.
It’s not your average fear of heights either. I don’t mind flying, or going way up high in an elevator. I don’t mind looking over the railing of bridges or any of that stuff. See, those kinds of height fears would be sane. I’m afriad of sort of mid-heights, specifically I’m afriad of standing on chairs/ladders/benches and reaching over my head.
I won’t change a lightbulb unless I can reach it with both feet planted firmly on the ground. Lucky for me, this is usually not a problem because I’m 6’5″. However, today as I was trying to finish painting the kitchen, it was a problem. I managed to talk myself onto a chair a few weeks ago when I painted the diningroom. But the cold sweats and shaking, didn’t feel like a good idea today. Besides the diningroom is carpeted and the kitchen is not. If I fell off the chair in the kitchen, I was sure to die.
I like to blame my height for a lot of things, it’s easy and most people buy it. Why? Because they have no clue what it’s like to be so tall, so they figure I must know. I blame my height for my weird standing-on-a-chair phobia. I say being just a few feet off the ground upsets my equilibrium, causes some sort of inner-ear disturbance that causes me to lose my balance. I don’t let the fact that I can’t remember ever falling off a chair while standing on it stop me.
So today was I was trying to finish the kitchen I stretched as high as I could and still came a couple inches short. Never before, in my entire life, had I wish I was a little taller.