When I was pregnant with Scarlett, Rye and I had to go to Colorado for his mother’s wedding. She was being married at Garden of the Gods, beautiful place, and the whole family was on a week long vacation for the event. While it was a great place to visit and I njoyed seeing the country, I discovered a very sad fact out there.

I have a tremondous fear of heights.

This as discovered while driving UP Pike’s Peak.
Now if you haven’t driven Pike’s Peak, allow me to describe it for you. First you start out on a lovely long mountain road. OK, no problem. But then, you beigin to climb. It;s a dirt road. With no guardrail. And as you climb, the drop off gets bigger and more steep. Did I mention there is NO shoulder. Like the edge of the mountain is 12 inches from the wheel of the car??
Also, it is a huge switch back raod..so that essentially means that it looks as if you are about to drive off the road, with no guardrails, and then you turn to the left..hard. And oh, it’s a two way dirt switchback road with a mere 12 inch shoulder and a huge drop off. So other cars are coming AT you as they go down. And if you look up, you see a line of cars even higher up..drivin what looks to be along a ridge, with no guardrail, like a sick Hummer commercial. And it is clear that you will soon be up there too. And you can’t turn around.

This did not work for me.
As we got higher, and it was just Rye and myself, having some quality time, I noticed my level of fear..before non existant, was growing.And I reported this to Rye, who told me to “relax” it was fine. I should enjoy the view. Not happening. I was down right scared.
To the point, that it was all I could do not to cry. Rye, for some reason found my fear comical. And he would laugh. And I would try not to cry. And be mad at him for laughing. And I was near hysterical. Somehow we made it up and then down again. It really, really sucked. Big time.

So, Rye has this ugly ass Jeep. I HATE it. I hate driving it, I hate the way it jiggles, I hate, Hate, HATE going “four wheeling” in it. But my husband thinks it is great family fun. Yeah. It’s called a “jeep adventure” and this is how it goes:
We go and get some food. The we go into the woods in the Jeep. And we sit in the car and eat the food because it is freaking cold out. The we start to drive. Off the road. In the woods. Over boulders. And it is bumping. And then, and THEN, my husband, knowing my fear, turns the Jeep to go down a huge hill, and when I say, with fear, “No, don’t go that way”, proceeds to tell me that it is “OK and we are safe” and drives down this huge ass hill. And I close my eyes and try not to cry. But it really doesn’t work. I am borderline hysterical with mind gripping fear. I do not feel safe. And my two kids are in the back. And he laughs.
Not because he is mean,but because he thinks this is fun. And for him, it might be fun. But not for me. Oh, no. It is terrifing. And he doesn’t know what to do, so he tries to laugh to make me feel “safe” and I just get pissed off. And really, I said no.
So we get down this horrible hill and I really feel sick and want to puke. And he askes me “Really, was that so bad?”
Yeah, it was bad. Still is bad. My heart is racing. I feel sweaty. I just want to go home. But no, don’t want to ruin his fun or become the raving maniac in the car, in the woods, with my kids. So I begin to grit my teeth.
But he really doesn’t rememebr the way out and knows he cannot really make me go up that hill again. I mean, I will walk it first. With the kids.
So we drive about. No roads, just trails, for two hours..and can’t get out. Having to go on other trials with drop offs, and boulders and up and down smaller hills. Houses are so close, but the trails are blocked off and we are way high above them. Did I mention huge drop offs?
All I can think is “If I don’t get the fuck out of here soon I will seriously freak out”
And it really feels that way. And the tears roll down my face. And we drive about. And now the kids are agrueing and whining. Tristan likes this and Scarlett wants to go home too. And they are doing the “Oh, no, we are lost and will have to live here forever!!” And I say in my nicest fake mommy voice. “Oh no..we are not lost. Daddy knows just where to go. And we will go home. Soon. Right, Daddy? Now look for a squirrel.”
Right, Daddy????
( get me out , get me out, get me out)

And Rye, bless his heart, shows me all these swell hills that he goes up with his friends. And with every view, I am afraid he will take it, but I tell him how great it is that he has fun and please take me home.

Two hours.

( get me out , get me out, get me out)
The scratch of branches on the damn Jeep like nails on a chalk board. Bumps over huge logs, icy patches, boulders, deep woods, whining kids, gritting teeth, my back is spazing from the tension, my head hurts, i feel sick..and he, I know, thinks I am just a big pooper and if I could only “relax” it would be ok.

And I am all under my breath “Honey, if you don’t get me out of here, I will begin to scream soon. I am going to have a full on panic attack. I am not ok, so lets just get out.”

( get me out , get me out, get me out)
He thinks he is helping me confront my fear. I don’t want to confront it, thank you. It can just leave me alone, please. I can drive in the woods on flat. I can deal with bumps. But flat. I grew up on Long Island. It was flat.
And if it ain’t flat, I feel a great need for pavement, guardrails, and safety measures.

I should be Ok acording to him if I trust him and he is suppose to keep us safe. It has nothing to do with my trusting him, really, it is just fear. But men and their ego’s, somehow, it is an insult to his driving and safe daddy abilities if I can’t get “over” this. Besides, it is something he really enjoys, and wouldn’t it be great if we all dug it. Yeah, that’s just not going to happen. Sorry. Maybe he should get over that dream instead. Let’s see..some dissapointment over you fantasy, or heart racing terror??

We are suppose to go again with the kids cousin, aunt and uncle next Sunday. I told him I am not going. That I cannot trust him to honor my legitimate fear and not make us do something that brings it on. That makes me angry and I am too scared.

God, I hate that car. Stupid, ugly Jeep.

I am NOT going. Again. Ever.