Admit It
I chickened out today. It happened where the flat dry desert meets towering mountains. It happened in a quiet placed called Utah. My wife and I were on a five-day trip to do some hiking, camping, and sightseeing. My chickening out came during one of the hiking portions. I tend to consider myself brave even though that is not always the case, as today proved.
We were lying in our tent after a night of camping waiting on the sun to show its face. It was cold and wet, yet we did not seem to mind. We were discussing what the day ahead would bring. The original plan—made by my wife—was to complete a famous hike known as Angel’s Landing. This hike is dangerous and filled with steep drop-offs alongside narrow paths surrounded by unforgiving cliffs. The path is so narrow and steep at points that you must use a guide chain to have any chance of navigating it. The issue is that many other people are using this same chain, rendering it unstable at times. It states in every guide book, blog, article, and review that this hike should not be attempted by those with a fear of heights. That is a category that I, unfortunately, fall into. (Fall was a poor choice of wording there.) When it comes to treacherous hiking paths, I tend to utilize the risk-reward system. Angel’s Landing, to me, did not weigh heavily enough in the reward category when compared with the risks. I will also mention the weather was not the best. It was a constant light rain, which created muddy and slippery conditions.
After some discussion about my thoughts on the matter, we decided to go on a different hike. This new hike also had some hairy spots, but nowhere near the danger or fear-inducing cliffs of the first. On the one hand, I was embarrassed and ashamed of my actions. My wife was more than ready to complete the hike. She had been looking forward to it for quite some time and even tried to keep me on the literal path for a bit, explaining how much fun it would be. Before today, I had never come out and admitted to her that I was scared to do something. I may have been in the past, but I never told her. I felt childish in my unwillingness to go, stubborn even. Prior to this trip, I had been thinking about how I was going to get out of doing this hike. But I had never come to a good conclusion as to how. I should have known long ago that honesty was the way to go. It took me some time to get there and be willing to use it—honesty. And that is why I am also proud of myself for today’s events. While humiliating, I fought the urge to make excuses. I was honest that I was scared to do it. I sucked up my pride and confessed to my wife that I was frightened to do something as simple as walk up a mountain. But honesty worked, as we decided on option B.
In my swashbuckling youth, this situation would have gone one of two ways. Both ways would have been dishonest to me and whoever else was with me. The likely scenario would have been me going into excuse-making mode. I would have concocted reasons why we should not attempt this feat. I could have exaggerated the weather predictions, faked not feeling well, or come up with “way better” options. I would have pulled out every trick in the book, while my real fear was being scared to be honest with others. I would have worried about what others would think about me. If none of these excuses had worked, the other circumstance would have been that I would have gone along on the hike, the whole time hiding my fear of heights deep down in my gut. I would have been miserable but never admitted it. I would have lied and pretended to enjoy it. I would again be more concerned with the thoughts of others versus any of my own.
With the arrival of 39 came the willingness to admit fear. This is something I once perceived as a weakness. The bigger revelation is the readiness to be honest with myself. I cannot think of a time in my life where I came out and said I was scared to do something. That is an astonishing thing to think about. It is almost sad in a way that it took so long to get to this point, to get to this level of comfort. Utilizing the time- proven tactic of honesty would have been helpful in so many situations throughout my life. It would have alleviated so much stress and discomfort.
I learned a lesson today by being honest with myself and with my wife. I learned that sometimes you can impress others by not trying to impress them. Even if you find it embarrassing, people will embrace your willingness to be honest. I may have been afraid that my wife would have lost a little respect for me with the admission that I was scared. I could be wrong, but I think she actually gained a tad bit more respect for me today. She likely understands that it was difficult for me to admit that I was scared. She would have seen right through any excuses I made or any distractions I presented to avoid this challenge. At the end of the day, we had a blast on option B—and we even bonded a little bit over my fears and my honesty. The admission is a weight lifted off my shoulders. It is one that she will understand and respect going forward. I am sure I have other chapters about the importance of being honest. Maybe that trend will help us understand the meaning of it. At 39, I am comfortable about being unimpressive at times, knowing that in the long run that fact will be impressive enough on its own.
-Houston Bailey (@BumpBailey)