There’s something to be said for facing down your fears. Something to be said for staring them straight in the face, and telling them to fuck off. Whether it be something small, like killing a spider, or perhaps something a little more brave, like getting to the top of that lighthouse you’ve always feared, or telling someone you love them just before walking away, because staying will simply hurt more than you can fathom.
A liberating feeling comes with knowing you’ve pushed your way outside of your comfort zone, that you muscled through the malaise. I’ve found myself doing quite a bit of pushing outside of my comfort zone recently, and it’s got an almost addictive quality to it.
Let’s take that lighthouse, for example. For as long as I can remember, Long Beach Island has been one of my favorite places in the world. Yes, I know it’s in Jersey. I simply ignore that fact, because once you’re on route 72, Island bound, nothing else matters. At the northern most point of the Island stands Barnegat Light. Towering 172 feet above sea level, this structure has been the site of many a photo-op over the years. One of the main draws of Old Barney is the view from the top. A picturesque look at the island as seen nowhere else. For someone who has a crippling fear of heights, that view is bittersweet – beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time.
Barnegat Light
I remember my first attempt at conquering the lighthouse. It was the summer going into fifth grade. My family and I were spending a week at our house on the Island, and I had a friend with me. In an effort to do as much with our week as possible, my mom decided we’d take a trip to the Lighthouse for the day. Excited about the idea, I had no worries entering the cylindrical structure. As I started up the spiral staircase, I felt my chest get tight, and my breathing become labored. My palms started sweating, and my knees felt weak. Before I even made it to the second landing, the tears started. I was petrified. While my mom and my friend continued their journey to the top, I slunk back down the steps, feeling my anxiety subside the closer I got to the bottom.
Fast forward roughly fifteen years or so. At the age of 25, I still have a crippling fear of heights. In the same vein of my bucket list, getting to the top of Barnegat Light was unfinished business for me. A very close friend of mine and I had made our way to the Island for the day, and decided before we left, the lighthouse would be conquered. Walking the trail from the parking lot to the base of the Lighthouse, I noticed my heart rate speeding up, my palms becoming damp.
Staring upward, all 172 feet of that lighthouse became more daunting than I had remembered. I looked to my companion for reassurance, and was met with a firm “We’ve got this.” Entering the base of the lighthouse, it all came flooding back. The briny smell of the bay, the worn look of the wood, the intimidating yellow grated steps of the spiral staircase that lead to the top. My friend started up first, with me timidly following. I kept a death grip on the railing, refusing to keep my eyes anywhere but straight ahead. With each step, I felt my breathing become more shallow and my legs tremble with fear and anxiety. I began experiencing an almost vertigo-like sensation, and my stomach seemed to have left me at the first landing.
We stopped at a landing about two-thirds of the way to the top, to look out the window. “That’s not that bad, right?” my friend asked, looking at me cautiously, as though I might faint at any second. I let him know the view from the window wasn’t so bad, but balked at his suggestion to continue on our way. My calves felt like jello, whether it was from the climbing of the stairs or my nervousness, I’m still not sure. Finally, I was coaxed to continue upwards.
As we wound our way to the top, I grew more and more panicked. Considering I’m not in the best shape of my life, walking those stairs was quite the workout. By the time we made it three-quarters of the way up, I was huffing and puffing. We stopped for another break, where I was once again reassured that I was safe and that I could make it to the top without having a panic attack. He did a wonderful job of not letting my anxiety rub off on him; had he allowed that to happen, we would have been stuck on that landing for quite some time. There was no way in hell I’d be making the first move, whether it be toward the top or back down the stairs.
Finally, we reached the top. Fifteen years in the making, I stepped foot into the room directly below the beacon that was only recently re-lit. Staring at my friend in awe that I had made it, sweaty from the effort of climbing the steps and the anxiety that was still bubbling up within me, we stepped out onto the observation deck. All I can say, is that it was worth it. The view was breathtaking, allowing me to see the Island I love so dearly from a completely new vantage point. You can see for yourself:
Directly through the observation deck door
Aerial view of the Inlet
View of the Island
Once I got a few quick pictures, we started down the stairs. Acutely aware that one wrong step could send me tumbling, I white-knuckled the railings once again, the vertigo making itself known. A quick glance at my feet reminded me I could see straight through the grated steps to the bottom, so I glued my eyes to the back of my friend’s head and kept them there until my feet were planted safely back on the sandy ground outside of Old Barney.
I’m not sure what kept me going up those stairs; maybe it was a compulsive need to not have a single regret, or the fact that I was with someone who I trust implicitly, or that I had talked a whole lot of shit prior to going up, saying I was going to finally do it. I can say it’s probably something I’ll never be compelled to do again, but at least I’m not left wondering what I’m missing out on.
Perhaps the driving force in my “no regrets” kick these days has been the fact that I’ve been going through things that remind me quite forcefully that life is way too short not to grab it by the balls. I urge you, dear readers, to consider facing your own fears, whatever they may be. Whether it be jumping out of a plane, singing karaoke, making a life-altering change, telling someone how you feel, or even just getting to the top of a lighthouse, do it. Sure, it’s scary as shit, and you’ll be uncomfortable for a brief time, but the sense of accomplishment and “I did it for ME” that comes after is exhilarating. It gives you a thirst for more, and eventually, you’ll realize the only thing holding you back is yourself.
