I’ve posted previously that I can laugh at myself. The trick is to get your husband to laugh with you in one of those REALLY embarrassing moments. Here’s what happened:
We took a ski trip to Breckenridge to celebrate our anniversary. Danny had never ski’d and I had only been once but did pretty good. My anxiety convinced me that I wouldn’t remember how to ski so I took a beginner’s lesson (again) which was unnecessary because I just naturally picked it up again.
When Danny and I went out after his ski equipment broke not once but twice, we took a ski lift to an intermediate slope. For some reason, I was a bit nervous and when I ski’d off the lift and had to do a sharp turn onto what to me was a narrow ledge, I had an anxiety attack. I have a tendency to be paranoid so I often have to keep a tight rein on my imagination. However, I am not normally a fearful person though I do have a fear of falling. Because I didn’t know how far down I would fall and was afraid to go near the edge, I was convinced I was going to off the cliff to my death if I moved.
I literally sat down and wouldn’t move causing other skiers to be forced to move around me. On some level, I knew I was being unreasonable but I just couldn’t get past my fear. I was crying like a baby and breathing so fast that I was close to hyperventilating.
At first, Danny was somewhat supportive but couldn’t physically help. I was exhibiting unpredictable behavior and he was an inexperienced skier thus making it dangerous for both of us were he to try. I finally decided I was not going to get any help so I crawled along the inside of the ledge to the slope. Danny finally had enough and told me I was embarrassing him which was A-typical.
I was eventually able to calm myself and decided I could just snow plow down the slope. It was ridiculous because the first time I ski’d, I accompanied my companion on the black slopes not with expert skill but I didn’t do too bad. At that time, the only time I exhibited fear was when I had to ski down a steep slope into a heavily populated concession area. I was afraid I would mow people over and was told that it would be their problem because they shouldn’t be standing in the middle of the ski-way. I did not find that encouraging.
So here is the punch line: As I passed the “dangerous cliff” I was convinced would cause my death, I discovered that it was about 6 feet off the ground and I couldn’t have hurt myself if I tried.
The next day, I took an intermediate ski lesson and told the story to the instructor He reassured me that it happens and there is no accounting for it. He said he took his wife on a ski trip on their honeymoon and had to pull her down the slope because out of the blue, she had an anxiety attack. He ended his story with, “…and I am a ski instructor.”
To this day, I don’t think Danny is amused but I can’t help but laugh at my ridiculous behavior. You would think I would feel humiliated, wouldn’t you? Oh well, life is too short to take seriously.