Day 25: Phobias

Heights are a huge phobia that I have had all of my life.  When I was young, friends of ours were adding on to their house.  I want to say they were putting a basement under their two story house by Glen Lake, but my memory is fuzzy on the details.  My dad climbed a ladder, and I wanted to go with him. He said I could follow. I got stuck halfway up. Being a patient father, he helped me the rest of the way up, so I could sit on the roof.  I did fine with the sturdy construction under me, but as soon as I had to step off the roof, the fear overtook me. Now this same house had a ladder to get to the top floor where the kids' bedrooms were. Many times my stomach knotted when going up when I spent the night.  I would wait until the last possible minute to come down in the morning. Yes, heights are a deep phobia from long ago.

When I left home for college, I traveled back and forth from Billings to Libby for Christmas and Thanksgiving, a nine hour trip if the roads were good.  After I married, we switched it every other holiday to drive to Wolf Point, a four to five hour trip. When we moved to Wolf Point when my husband received a teaching job, I drove to Billing every month for drill.  There were some close calls, but the worst thing to happen was us going into the ditch once. No big deal, until the year my sister-in-law died in a snow storm in Minnesota. Her college van with twelve girls clipped a snowplow.  The van flipped around and was hit by a bus. Her and five other girls died at the scene. I was in Billings when I received the news. I almost left that night to get home to the family, but my father-in-law said no. He didn’t want his other girl on the road.  I don’t remember fearing anything that trip. However, after that terrible time, I have had a phobia of traveling on winter roads. I make everyone miserable with me in the vehicle. I try to hide in the back of the vehicle we are in saying Hail Mary's over and over. I know the fear is stupid. My husband is a good driver.  Hell, I am a good driver. But, I can’t get past the knot in my stomach as I pray. And I talk to my sister-in-law asking her to pray with me.