Mr So and I went for a walk today. We decided to follow the coastal path from the village where we are staying to a beach about 6 miles away. The path is well-marked and safe – at least that’s what the guide books say.
I have a really bad fear of heights. For me, where any kind of height is involved, walking along a path which most people might consider perfectly adequate, is a bit like walking along a very wobbly tight rope. This is made worse when there are sheer drops involved, especially those which plummet over the rocks down to the sea. I wish I could enjoy the view but usually I am trying to get as far away from the edge as possible while clinging on to anything available. I also have a tendency to swear and/or cry at the same time !
So today, although I wanted to do the walk, I was a bit worried about what would happen if it turned out to be too high. I explained to Mr So that if it got too much I might have to turn back. His response was to say “Don’t worry – you’ve got the path and you’ve got me”.
The walk was good. There were some sections which felt very high and very scary. Some parts were steep and it was hard to find my footing. Other stretches felt easy and natural and there were spectacular views. All the way, Mr So was by my side. He held my hand when it got tricky and at one particularly scary point I am sure I squeezed so hard I almost cut off the blood supply to his fingers !
In many ways the walk was similar to my sober journey so far. That too has been over a very mixed terrain. There have been times when I have been exhilarated and energised. Sometimes exhausted, hysterical and frightened. The views have changed with each day – sometimes I can see for miles and the future looks bright, sometimes I can’t see the wood for the trees. But all the way through Mr So has been there, holding my hand.