I’ve never had an (actualized) fear of heights, I grew up on ski hills from a very early age.

I’ve also never had any conscious fear of something happening to myself, although I have more than a healthy worry about things happening to those I love.

If you ask my kids what they love the very most about their mom, they would say, “She’s brave.” Trust me, I’ve asked. But, I do think they know that I am deathly afraid of spiders, the Noro virus and great white sharks (but that doesn’t keep me from jumping off boats into the open ocean).

So in regards to fear, I had such an interesting and sort of shattering experience a few weekends ago.

I’ve skied for almost 40 years, up rickety, two-seater, practically vertical chair lifts (Big Red/Little Red, Divide, Tee Pee Town), that lasted 30 minutes, and skied down double-black diamonds in blizzards. I’ve watched my sister break her leg right in front of me down a double black diamond, and had to watch as she was helicoptered off of a mountain. Brave Kimmie.

However, something absolutely scary happened to me during our past trip to the mountains.

It actually started the weekend before as Noah and I were going up the “learner” chairlift (sans kids) in order to get over to the bigger lifts. I’ve been up this lift a million times, and there was probably a much bigger snow pack beneath as there was no snow in February, making the height less of an issue, BUT, all of the sudden I had this insane moment of vertigo and absolute terror.

My whole body started shaking and in tears started pouring down my face, and it looked as if the chairlift post was coming at me and then I felt myself falling. F A L L I N G. It was utterly startling for Noah, who is not used to me 1) Crying and 2) Losing it while skiing. I decided to test what was going on and after we skied down, we went over to the chairlift to the right, which is much more advanced, and was absolutely fine on that lift and all the others.

Fast forward to the following weekend when we decided to really get our kids skiing. They’d been on the magic carpet and on the hills around the cabin, but I wanted to get them proficient on longer, steeper runs and conquer that darn chairlift. My amazing sister who is both ski patrol and a nurse, with an absolute heart of goldt, offered to take my kids out on the hill one by one with huge success! The second day, I decided to take my boys out (again, one by one) on the starter chairlift (the one I freaked out on).

It was hard as unexpected as waves of foreign feelings flooded over me that were beyond my control. I first took my niece and my oldest son up…

Kids are so amazing, they pick up on so much more than we realize they will. I really felt like I was faking it quite well until my sweet niece asked me, “Auntie Lisa, are you okay? Is this your first time on a chairlift?” I couldn’t believe she could possibly sense a single thing. I stuttered and tried to sing, “You Are My Sunshine” and I’m sure I sounded like a strangled cat. Other than that, just sat there silent, rigid, yet shaking, absolutely overcome with fear. Literally overcome.

My sister was on the chair behind us, and Matty knew this and wanted to turn around and wave. And every time he even moved a single finger nail, I felt extreme terror. It was at that point that I literally bit through my bottom lip until it bled. Once we got off, I skied down with the kids and the fear dissipated.

In an attempt to prove to myself that I was not debilitated by fear, I decided to take Ben up within 10 minutes of this first ride. I was determined to push through the feelings. However, my little Ben is too small to put his bottom all the way on the seat where the back of the chair meets the cushion, if he were to do this, his skis would almost be in his face, so he kind of had to sit on the edge so his skis could hang. Which felt like 10% of his rear was actually on the seat. All I wanted to do was hold him close to me or even just put my poles across him, but I was terrified that if I did this, he would move and slip. I could barely speak as we rode up this chairlift, and all I could picture was him slipping through the bars and down onto the hard packed, corduroy snow. My heart is pounding as I write this.

I’m just still sitting here thinking, what the heck happened? What is this about? I still want to be that brave, fearless mama. Being outside with them is where we are all at our best, that is where I shine and it’s a big deal because I feel like I’ve failed them.

I will not never ski with my kids. This is something that I will need to solve and work through. I am very thankful to Noah, who instead of thinking I am nuts, has been full of compassion and grace. I know I have 30 years of skiing with my kids ahead of me.

“Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.’ — Marie Curie

“Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones.” — Thich Nhat Hanh