What would Jane Austen Grow?

I have a weakness. It’s a phobia really, although I hate to admit it. I’m afraid of heights. I have had this fear since I was a child. I believe it stems from falling down a rough staircase at age 2, a scar left behind to prove it happened. In addition, one of my eardrums ruptured from infection at a young age and my ear hasn’t functioned properly since. Except for a brief period of time after an ear doctor inserted an artificial bone. There was a brief period of a year or so when I was able to overcome my fear of heights. I thought I had conquered my fear!

I remember that feeling of victory and this gets me in trouble. I think I will no longer let my fear rule me, so I complacently try something like driving with my husband, step-daughter, her husband and our granddaughter to the top of Pike’s Peak. I only made it a mile from the entry fee kiosk before I was in sheer panic mode. They had to turn around and drop me off.  I spent time at an amusement park while the rest of the group made it to the top.  Somehow it didn’t make me feel better when they said even they were scared when the got to the top.  This scenario plays out repeatedly.  Some of the highlights are The Road to the Sun, Haleakala Crater, Diamond Head, numerous lighthouses and hwy 1 in Northern California. Each attempt ends in the inability to move another step and tears! Or screaming,  depending on the severity and whether I have been smart enough to take my anti-anxiety medication. Imagine pressing yourself against a rock wall halfway up Diamond Head and all these people pass you by.  They either look at me like I have a problem or they stop and ask if I’m alright.  These hikers are very young and very old.  Some even wear flipflops.  Why are they able to make it to the top and I’m not?  It’s not like I’m rappelling off the Matterhorn!

I have come to the conclusion that I need to accept this and arrange my life around this. I think a lot of people just pass on the option to hike Diamond Head.  They know their limits or they’re just not interested.  But it still seems like a defeat. I should be able to master my body, my psyche.  I feel imperfect, inadequate, a wimp.  I feel undisciplined, a slob.  And yet, wouldn’t it just be simpler to not make the attempt when the outcome is defeat.  So my question to you is: Which is braver-to keep trying when change seems impossible or to accept my limitations and move on?