today i did a thing.
that thing was to climb into the bucket of a tree truck, and be lifted very, very high off the ground to rescue my cat from a tree.
that thing was scary. i shook the entire time. i took deep breaths. i said “i can’t do this” a lot, and the guy on the ground kept telling me i was fine.
i wanted to get down. i wanted someone else to do it.
but up and up i went, until i was right below the branch where my cat was perched. she meowed and meowed and i stuck out an arm, petting her and coaxing her to come closer to me.
“you gotta use both hands,” yelled the guy from below.
i didn’t want to use both hands. i wanted one hand firmly gripping the bucket because i was trembling and it didn’t seem possible that i would not just fall right out.
“you can’t fall,” he said.
finally i reached both hands out and grabbed the cat and pulled her into the bucket with me. i held her down on the floor of the bucket saying, “you dumb cat. don’t ever do that again.” i was still trembling. shaking. scared scared scared.
i got to the ground. i tossed the cat out. i climbed out myself and i thanked the tree guys.
it didn’t occur to me that i had faced one of my fears. i am a total scaredy cat when it comes to heights. i never climb up high and jump off rocks into water. i don’t dive into pools from a diving board. i don’t stand near the edges of places.
it didn’t feel like i was facing a fear. i didn’t feel exhilarated. i felt trembly and weak and like i really didn’t want to do it.
but maybe that’s how it is.