I have thalassophobia; fear of open water. I used to think I was afraid of sharks (they are still terrifying, and I get sweaty palms when I think about swimming with them), but it isn’t just sharks. I don’t remember it ever starting, it’s just kinda always been. Growing up, I remember being fearful in local reservoirs. I would have a hard time controlling my panic after I fell off the tube or water skis. I remember looking at the endless horizon of the ocean on vacations and knowing, to my bones, that something out there was calling me. Like a lot of little boys, I wanted to live the (romantic) life of a pirate, but I knew that I couldn’t last because of my fear. The fear, like the open water, is deep. I feel something deep in me trying to connect to something deep in the water. This isn’t a peaceful connection. It’s dark, cold, heavy. The beat of my heart gains new bass and world becomes chilled when the depth calls to me. The silence of the water deafens me. This is bizarre to me since I was born and raised in the high desert of Utah. But this isn’t a secret.

Like a lot of kids, I was afraid of the dark. I had an imaginary friend (Fozzy) who helped, and I eventually outgrew it. I do remember, however, after watching “The Blair Witch Project” in high school, I may or may not have turned on a lot of lights when I got home. 😉

I grew up afraid of snakes. So I spent time in the local library reading everything I could about them till I could handle it. I eventually had a pet boa.

I have climbed over 20,000 feet tall peaks, I have dangled from sheer cliff sides by just my fingers. I have gipped the handles of ice axes while climbing frozen waterfalls. I have jumped out of airplanes, and walked on tightropes over canyons. I’ve never been afraid of heights, but I can’t handle standing on a ladder very well. I get to the middle of the ladder and I just know it’s gonna tip over. When I get to the top, and there are nothing for my deathgrip to squeeze, the world spins.

Heights, snakes, confined spaces, the dark, even the creepy spiders I dislike, aren’t fears of mine; not my biggest fear anyway. My biggest fear I hide. I put on a shelf, in the furthest corner of my mind and conceal it. Covering it with charismatic illusions in the hopes that no one will ever see it. Because my biggest fear…

is that you’ll see me…

the way I see myself.