If you can’t do it yourself, get some help.
Twice in my life, I “overcame” a fear of heights with help from others. And by help, I mean physical help. A push, to be exact.
During a summer semester at Penn State, my friends and I liked to go to the pool on campus. The pool had a diving area complete with a 10-meter platform.
“Sure, let’s do it!”
Four of us climbed the ladder and waited at the platform’s back end. I watched two friends saunter out to the edge, peer down and jump off, piercing the water feet first.
My turn. I walked out just like my buddies, looked down, and froze. Over 30 feet in the air, plus the depth of the pool. It may as well have been a thousand feet.
I stood there for what seemed like and hour and could not will myself to jump, no matter how hard I tried. My lizard brain was locked up. Now my buddy behind me sees what’s happened and starts hazing me. So do my friends below. They’re on me hard.
I can’t do it, so I turn around and walk back to climb down the ladder, fully prepared for the relentless hazing that would fill the remainder of the day. It’s gonna suck, but it’s the only way.
But my friend behind me is having none of this. He blocks my way to the ladder, turns me around, and gives me shove.
Somehow that worked. With the momentum from the shove, I started running, stared straight ahead, and just ran off the end. Next thing I know, I’m swimming to the edge of the pool.
Yes, it was 100% peer pressure, but without that shove, I’d never be able to say I did it, and I’m glad I did. How many thousands of people have jumped off that platform and not died? All of them.
