I can't exactly remember what grade I was in. I think it was the sixth or seventh grade, but what I do remember is that every Wednesday, a group of kids had to go and see their "counselor". Don't ask me why our school made us do this, but each grade was broken into different groups of ten and sent off to different adults to talk to and generally go through our angsty lives because as you all know, being an eleven-year-old kid in frigid North Dakota is hard.
I always thought that the group meetings were stupid but never complained because it was time that I didn't have to spend sitting at my desk with my face propped up against my hand trying not to fall over into the floor. Luckily I was in the group with the "cool counselor". She was rather young, I'd say in her mid-twenties, and tried hard enough to really get to know us, but didn't try too hard to where we all could tell that she was a flake. She seemed to geniunely want to get to know us and understand what was going on in our small lives. Every week she came prepared with a new topic to discuss, some of which again, I thought were stupid, but others which I thought made a few good points.
One topic that she brought up was trust. Who do we trust, why do we trust them, how can we learn to trust again after the trust has been broken? We'd go around the circle and a lot of people said that they trusted their friends and family. I mean, those are the most obvious choices, no? If you can't trust them, well who else can you trust?
So that Wednesday we talked about trust and since it was such a hot topic amongst all of us, she had a surprise the following Wednesday. We were going to test all of our theories that we had talked about and do something that none of the other groups got to do: we were going on a field trip.
Being in North Dakota at the time, it was really easy for us to surround ourselves with nature. You can't escape it, it's all just right there in your face. Most of it is just flat land though with tall, TALL, grass and dirt. You had to drive a few miles to get to the mountains, which is where we were headed for our field trip. Into the mountains to go on a ropes course.
When we first stepped out in front of the ropes course, I was really intimidated and frightened. I never was much of an athletic girl and the last thing I couldn't understand was how this was supposed to test our trust theories. As far as I could tell the only thing we were going to get accomplished was breaking a sweat and I didn't see any showers nearby to clean myself up afterwards.
However, it was one of the most exhilarating days of my young life.
We climbed trees, rocks, balanced on logs, ran, screamed, jumped, scraped our knees, yelled at each other, encouraged each other and throughout all of the physical activities, learned how to trust one another. I mean, when you're high up on a rock wall, even with all of the safety chords that are there to catch you if/when you fall, you're trusting your spotter who's down on the ground.
It was a fantastic thing to learn in only a few short hours, and I was so hyped up that it almost made me want to become more active. Almost.
The very last test that we did though was not a group test. We weren't broken down into partners or separated into teams. We had learned how to trust each other and now the only thing that was left for us to do was learn how to trust ourselves. It was time for us to take on the zip chord.
In case you don't know what a zip chord is, it's really quite a simple thing. Basically it's just two giant trees with a line strung up between it. The thing that makes the zip chord so insanely scary is that the line is approximately eighty feet in the air.
Oh yeah. And we had to climb it all the way to the top, strap ourselves in this rinky dink harness and pray that we wouldn't A.) smack into the other tree because we're going a zillion miles an hour or B.) fall to the ground because we were too heavy and the chord would obviously snap the moment we put any weight on it.
I was the last person to go. I had to seriously work up the nerve and convince myself that everything would be okay. I watched as each one of my team members successfully slid accross the zip line and came down smiling and laughing because it was just So Much Fun. Everyone was going on about the rush and all of the different feelings that they were experiencing just by flying on this thing.
I, on the other hand, was thinking how I was getting ready to die. Everybody had already gone, therefore using the line too much and it would be too tired to carry me. I was going to fall eighty feet out of the air and die. Die. I didn't really want to have the story, to come down laughing, to feel the rush. I wanted to live.
I eventually went though. Everybody convinced me to do it and I became another victim of peer pressure. I strapped on the helmet, had three hundred different safety ropes laced through me and began the long journey up to the top where a platform was waiting with two men holding the harness that would be the only thing keeping me at a safe distance from the ground.
I remember being very much aware of my breathing. I took a lot of deep, slow breaths and there weren't any thoughts going through my mind other than, "don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down." I could faintly hear everyone on the ground cheering me on, but it sounded like they were in a wind tunnel. I could sort of hear them and I knew that they were right down there waiting for me, but in that moment of time, all I could focus on and care about was the very small space that was between the tree I was clinging onto and myself. Every time I moved up a step just meant that I was that much closer to the end, that much closer to feeling the ground beneath my feet.
Eventually I did make it to the platform. The two men who would be the ones strapping me into the harness congratulated me to climbing all the way and I do remember one of them saying something about how some people climb back down or just let go.
When I was up there, I looked down. I was shaking and trembling so bad. I almost started crying in front of strangers, which is a huge no, no for me. My voice was shaky and all I wanted to do was get off of that fucking platform that was so goddamned high in the air. I could barely see my classmates, I couldn't hear a thing they were saying. I thought I might faint.
After the two guys finished strapping me in, they told me to sit on the edge of the platform and slide off. I did sit down, if only so I could feel something below me and pretend that it was the ground. I gripped the rope that was in front of me and sat there with my legs dangling over the edge. All that was left for me to do was to give myself a little push and let go.
It was so surreal because the few seconds before I finally slid off, time stopped, if only for a few moments. Things became extremely clear and even at my young age, I found it to be amazing that my mind was so focused and aware of everything. Life does slow down and nothing matters. You are in the moment, you are experiencing it all first hand and not one thing is on your mind. Everything is silent.
And after one last final deep breath, I let go.
When I finally slowed down and was unhooked from everything, I realized I was crying, not because I was sad or it was scary, but because it was so liberating. Even though I was flying by at lightning speed and was spinning around like I was on a Disney ride, I felt free. It was also every bit of fun that everyone had been yapping excitedly about after they were done and I didn't die, which was a very good thing. I wanted to do it again and again and again.
It was my favorite field trip that I ever went on and after that day I always looked forward to going to our counselor's office on Wednesdays.
This Wednesday I will be embarking on a new kind of ropes course. My last couple of days have been spent having fun with friends, trying to relax, finishing up my packing, abusing a little substance (*wink* *wink*), working on chores, hanging out with my family and drifting off into my own insipid thoughts. I'm already taking a lot of deep breaths and trying to remain calm. I keep reminding myself that there's no need for me to get myself all worked up. All I need to do is wait until that point in time when I'm sitting right on the edge and there's nothing left for me to do except slide off and let go.