I have been walking this line for quite some time. Walking like some kind of sick acrobat with a death wish I walk one foot in front of the other with the edges of my feet hanging over the sides.

I am good at walking the ledge.

I can move at a steady pace with no fear for years. I don’t look at the drop off. I don’t see the distance down to the assured body mangling splat at the bottom. I just walk with one foot in front of the other. My life moves on at this pace and my life is good.

Every once in a while I throw in a dance or a flip because I’m feeling courageous and want to flirt with the danger over that edge. Then I walk on and on.

Then every once in a while I glance down out of habit. Even if it lasts only for a second, in that second my mind remembers the danger here. My brain clicks on to the peril I am in and in another instant the walking stops.

Everything halts and I am stuck in place with my eyes trained on the bottom. My body rocks and my head spins, my legs shake, and my blood boils in its veins. My face heats up and my eyes are unable to focus on anything else.

Part of me knows I was walking fine a second before. I know I’ve been moving fine. I know I will again, but in this moment I can’t think of that. All I can think of is the fear of falling. All there is now is the drop.

There was no momentous occasion. There was no near fall to get me to the point of clinging onto the edge with both hands white knuckled. No one pushed me. No one scared me.

All it was was the slightest practically insignificant change in perspective, and my mind was gone. Lost to the fall. Walking is now not an option. I’m just holding on to survive. I can’t think. I can’t.

My pride forces me to look up to the edge. I look down the straight line of this walkway that ends when I do fall. I was walking a minute ago. I remember that now. I was walking fine. So with a deep shaking breath I push up onto my arms that feel like they might give out. I press my weight back into my rocking feet and raise my body from the floor slowly.

Don’t look down.

Don’t look down.

Look at the step in front of you. One step. One small step at a time. One unsteady foot moves in front of the other. At a glacial pace I move forward not trusting my own body or mind. I am hyper aware of the drop. I am focusing on falling almost as much as moving, but I pretend the fear isn’t there.

A few steps and my mind remembers the rhythm. I remember how to walk. I remember how to go on. One step. One step.

I move gradually regaining my confidence. The ledge is all I have and I will walk it each and every day. Some days I will dance. Some days I will lie down with shaking hands and racing heart and grasp it with an uncontainable fear of falling off.

There is no grand cause or scheme to change this. There only needs to be the smallest glance. A minute change in perspective and everything comes tumbling down.

Don’t ask me what happened. Do not ask me what went wrong. Nothing did and everything apparently did all at the same time. Things I am not conscious of happened within this mind of mine to send me clinging to the edge. I am always aware of the fall. I feel it in each and every step I step.

The fall is the out of focus section of the picture. Just a glance though in the wrong direction can make the fall the main attraction.

I will get up again. Moments of fear only make me stronger. They make me walk tall. I walk with pride knowing what I can survive within this war against my own mind.

Step by step.

One step.

One step.

©C. O’Connor, 2018