Ah…kayaking. Beneath my calm, commanding exterior, it scares me. The thought of dumping in surf, falling out of my boat or blowing a roll and having to wet-exit fills my core with anxiety. It shouldn’t, but it does.
Recently I took part in a group paddle at the Willamette Falls. The trip is billed as “Challenge By Choice.” You can paddle up and watch the pretty falls, or you can stick your bow in the fast and troubled waters surging out of the power station bypass. The latter involves some bouncy water and a potential for getting dumped.
Logically, I know I’m totally safe. Dumping means I get wet, then someone helps me get back in my boat. There are no nasty keeper waves and I’m surrounded by competent paddlers who would love nothing better than to practice their rescue skills. The biggest danger is being impaled by the several kayaks that converge on the swimmer; everyone wants to be the hero.
But that’s not enough for my limbic system. All it knows is fear, and it tweaks every bio-chemical response to make sure I know I’m surely going to die. Honestly, I almost told the trip leader I just can’t do this. There’s a hole in my boat, my arm hurts, I need to get an emergency haircut, anything but DROWNING IN THE FALLS.
We start with practice bracing, sculling, and rescues. I tell my rescue partner I’m going to test my kayak roll, then I’ll wet-exit so we can do the rescue. Guess what—my roll is picturesque. “That’s a very confident roll,” says my partner. I smile. The rest of the rescue practice proceeds with precision. I’m out of the boat and back in less than a minute. Take that limbic system.
We paddle up to the falls, and I find I know these waters. I’ve done this before; whirlpools, boils, eddy lines and current. My hyperactive limbic system and I settle into the challenge. Yep—this isn’t so scary.
But you know what—it is scary. Even when I tell myself it isn’t, it still is. And I’m not the only person worried about the waves, tides, and current. It’s normal. It’s years of survival instincts telling you not to jump off that cliff, not to swim in fast water, not to handle power tools; all because OH MY GOD THIS IS DANGEROUS.
You can do hard things
I think needles are scary and dangerous. I don’t enjoy having them stuck in my body. It’s an irrational fear; nothing bad is going to happen. But it makes me light-headed just thinking about it.
I decided this was something I didn’t want to carry around, so I volunteered to give blood at the Red Cross. The first time was terrifying. The second time was terrifying. But I’m up to two gallons (cumulative, not per session.) Familiarity overwrites fear. Take that limbic system.
My mother was deathly afraid of water, but she encouraged me to spend time in a canoe in Northern Minnesota. I became comfortable in big (deep) lakes and fast rivers. She never overcame her fear, but with her help, I did. Take that limbic system.
What have I learned from all of this? Scared is normal for everybody. And everyone has a different path to coping with their fears. Me? I take my limbic system out for regular reality checks.