Tree Top Drop September 10, 2017
It is in the trying that we heal, become stronger and step a little further from what we perceive our comfort zone. Failing comes from not trying at all, even in our thoughts.
Although it was incredibly difficult for me to climb up the ladder to the tree top drop, I kept climbing, fighting the fear with each step. I got to the top and thought, ‘I made it this far, it will be ok, I’ll just step off and it’s done.’ I was absolutely not prepared for the panic I would feel when I went to make that step off the narrow platform.
In the end I could not take the leap from the edge to let myself feel the emptiness under my feet, which at that moment made me feel like I had failed, no matter how much the staff encouraged me or how incredibly patient they were.
It was not that I didn’t trust the rope or mechanism, I just could not manage the idea I was stepping into nothing. the panic was amazingly strong. I could not go forward, nor could I go back I was so scared. I had no idea I could be so paralyzed with fear, unwilling to jump. After all, I had been able to experience the zip-line a few years before which I thought would be basically the same thing. Not so!
As soon as I felt the air beneath my foot I panicked, and no matter what was said or how I tried to convince myself I was strong enough, I could not do it. Everything I have had to face, and this got the best of me! I did end up getting talked back down using the ladder, humiliated and embarrassed, crying and ashamed for being weak.
September 10, 2002
On this night I had a dream which I believe relates to this experience of the tree top drop. I know now this is a memory and it haunts me still. As I went to step off the ledge of the platform for the drop I saw my surrogate mother’s face as she fell from the plane. And worse, I felt her go. It was as if my body was falling too, watching her disappear.
This unexpected reaction occurred while attempting a ‘tree top drop,’ triggering this long forgotten memory. The sense of empty space overwhelmed as I put one foot over the edge—shocked at the depth of emotion I felt in this moment. I now understood it had not been just a bad dream. It was real. It happened. I had watched this woman fall to her death.
Three years later I would read of the horrific practice of ‘disappearing’ Argentinians labeled traitors to the state, drugged to minimize struggle then pushed out of a plane. She was so calm, looking back with a gentle smile on her face as she rapidly fell from sight.
I remember being on that plane, sitting behind the pilot and co-pilot. We were flying. It was not a passenger plane but I would say one used for the military because there were no seats and it was meant for cargo or for parachuting. The woman in my memory with the horse was standing in front of me. She looked so sad but I was distracted because I saw a man fall out of the open door.
And as I looked towards him my mother also fell from the plane. I do not know if she was pushed or jumped. I do not think she was wearing a parachute. But as she fell she turned her body so she could see me and she just smiled as if telling me everything would be fine. I still cry as I write this or think of her. I never saw her again. I can only assume she died that day.
For many years I had wondered about this incident, who the people were and why I had to watch them fall from the plane. It was a very eerie experience. I was so young and could not understand what was happening or why.
It has haunted me over the years because I felt a connection to the woman, but was unsure of why. Not knowing where she went or if she lived has bothered me since the return of this memory. I kept hoping that she did have a parachute or the man who fell before her did and somehow managed to save her.
I believe it was the not knowing first of all why it happened, and second what happened to her that helped to keep the memory locked away for so long. It has only been during the last year I have been able to place this woman and understand she was charged with looking after me by my birth parents for those first two years of my life. I have no memory of her name, but call her my surrogate mother, knowing she fulfilled a significant role in caring for me when my birth parents could not. In the end it cost her life.
It was hard to walk back to the car and go home knowing I could not overcome this fear, especially when I had faced it in other ways and succeeded. Climbing the side of a mountain, zip lining, standing on the edge of a cliff, going in an airplane, going in a glass elevator etc. But never before have I felt this weightlessness which overwhelmed my sense of determination.
Just seeing her face as she turned back to look at me to assure me everything would be ok is overwhelming. But how could it be ok? There was no relief from this unexpected bombardment of my senses. I felt so alone as I walked away and began my journey home. I was beginning to comprehend the level of fear and isolation I must have felt as a three or four year old going through this experience.
How do you find balance and security when you’ve watched someone who you love and who loves you, who is supposed to make your world safe fall from your sight, never to be seen again?
As the days passed while I faced my shame and embarrassment, I began to realize something which came as a very gentle surprise. I had not failed at all. I had made a rather big step forward in my journey towards freedom.
I had faced the dragon within and while I did not defeat him on the one hand, I have found peace within and acceptance at my limitation with the situation. That scar so deeply hidden inside my heart, so deep I had forgotten it was there began to heal and feel lighter. And so the journey continues, one step at a time…
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