I am not afraid

I introduced my youngest son to indoor rock climbing when he was four years of age. He was fully kitted out with a full body harness, helmet, climbing shoes and trusty chalk bag. He looked the part with a cool and calm demeanor, ready to conquer whatever challenge that stood tall in front of him. He attacked the giant wall smiling ear to ear and eyes filled with excitement with serious intent...nothing was impossible!

I looked on in amazement at how he moved up the wall with a quiet and steady determination. Fearless. It reminded me of stories my mother used to tell me of when I was young. Silently taking on things that most adults would think about twice doing or not at all. I only recall small things here and there. The feeling of doing my first solo climb and looking over my shoulder down with waves crashing up against the rocks far below. It was timeless...nothing else mattered.

In the years since then I have found myself becoming more aware of my fears. Sometimes these fears have been paralyzing, causing me to back down or not start at all with the challenge at hand. This bothered me for many years trying to set aside those fears so that I could find the feeling I had as a young boy on those rocks so many years ago...that sense of freedom.

Seeing my son fearlessly take on these seemingly impossible obstacles moved me deeply. I continued to go on these adventures with him, watching intently, trying to rediscover his secret. How was he so fearless?

It was now many months after we had started the indoor climbing expedition. I slowly introduced him to the importance of safety and communication, drilling him on the mantra I learned - “Belay? Belay is on. Climb? Climb away!” Showing him how to tie knots and what might happen if the knots weren’t tied correctly. He listened intently and learned quickly.

I noticed a change in him. He would often climb up to a point he had climbed past many times before and stop. Frozen, he would then look down at me in fear, trying to look confident, while asking me to let him down. I would try and motivate him only to let him down after one or two attempts. Some days he would be ok and others he would not.

This change bothered me intensely. What happened to the boy that saw no mountain too big to climb? After giving it some thought and talking to him on the way home I realised that I had passed my fears onto my son...and it broke my heart. This is a very hard thing to explain to non-parents...

We continued to go climbing often with the same routine as before, “Dad, let me down please...”. Which I did now without hesitation making sure my son knew that I was in no way disappointed in his retreat to safer ground...or rather my failing as a father.

It wasn’t until one day he was standing staring at the first rung of the Jacob’s ladder he had climbed so many times before, chalking up his hands and slapping them together in a big cloud of magic dust, that I quietly heard him say to himself so that no one else hears, “I am not afraid. I am not afraid.” Out of his own accord, my five year old son had developed a coping mechanism, a mantra to manage the fear of which he was now fully aware. This totally blew me away!

...

Perhaps what I witnessed was my son crossing the threshold of innocence when he became aware of his fear. It paralyzed him, it imprisoned him, it became his master...for a while at least. He chose to stand

I came to the realisation that it was an unrealistic expectation to be truly fearless and actually an impossible goal. What it comes down to for me is whether we are in control of our fears or whether our fears are in control of us.