Elevator Phobia -- Justified!

I used to not mind elevators.  In fact, as a kid, my sisters and I thought they were fun.  We grew up in a town with only one, and on rare occasions that we'd get to go with our dad to Yuma's super tall, 7 floor Crescent Center, we'd consider it a real thrill because it meant we'd get to ride the elevator.  As I got older and rode them regularly, I began to develop a minor dislike for them.

What clinched my growing fear of elevators was, ironically enough, a ride in one to the top of the World Trade Center some 25 years ago.  My sister Anne-Marie and I decided to visit Windows on the World for a drink one night.  A group of slightly tipsy teens attending their prom at Windows on the World took an unexpectedly long ride with us in the elevator.  The ascent to the 104th Floor should have taken only a few minutes, but the elevator inched its way upward, painfully slow.  It was evident something was not right!  I had been in buildings higher than Yuma's Crescent Center many times before -- maybe not as high as the WTC, but I had been to the top of the John Hancock Tower and the Prudential Center in Boston, as well as the Empire State Building.  I know elevators, specifically express ones, travel quickly enough to high floors to make your ears pop. There were no popping ears here -- only increasing jitters as it took more than 20 minutes to reach the top.  I will say the tipsy teens in their fancy clothes did take the edge off as they made comments that made everyone laugh!  Once at the 104th floor, we all breathed a syncronized sigh of relief and exited the elevator.  Anne-Marie and I took a seat by the window for a now-much-needed glass of wine.  A short time later the ride down took only a fraction of the time, ears popping on the way.

Ever since then I've been wary of elevators, and feel myself tensing up if the doors hesitate the slightest bit.  Glass elevators are ok -- if I can see out, I'm in control of my fears.  Whenever possible, I choose stairs over elevators, and I always avoid riding solo in one.

But last week while in New York, my friend Cindy and I were attending an art show on floors 2-5, so we opted to start at the 5th floor and work our way down.  We had just walked a decent amount through the chilly streets of New York (cabs are hard to find during rush hour!).  Even though I usually prefer stairs when only five flights are involved,  Cindy suggested we take the elevator to the 5th floor and walk down.  Six of us, five women and a man, pile into the tiny elevator with no room to spare.  The doors close and we lift  about 3 feet, and then drop a foot or so with a clunk. All six of us look at each other, saying things like "that didn't sound good." and "uh oh, are we stuck?"  I push buttons on the panel with no results, and then someone reaches over me to push the emergency call button.  A muffled voice says "hello."  "We're stuck in the elevator," we reply.  The voice responds "Are you stuck in the elevator?"  One of us says "yes."  Then, no response.  This happens two more times.  With the third "Are you stuck in the elevator," all six of us reply with a  harmonious 'yes!'

For forty minutes we waited for help to arrive.  As I thought about how one of my worst nightmares had come true, Cindy passed out breath mints (did I mention how small the elevator was?)  and an anti-anxiety pill for me.

The six of us became fast friends as we facebooked our predicament, texted our kids and friends, and tweeted.  We took group selfies, played Nelly and Tim McGraw's Over and Over on the iphone while attempting to dance, and laughed about the what-ifs.  I was comforted by the noise outside and an occasional rap on the elevator door, confirming that we weren't stuck in between brick walls.

Once the elevator technicians arrived, it was only seconds to get us out.  A small crowd awaited our release, greeting us with a glass of wine.  Cindy and I viewed the art and went to meet friends at a nearby restaurant, grateful the 40 minutes wasn't longer!  And for the rest of the weekend, I used the stairs!

Haven Gave Me Courage

Some of you have heard me talk about the Haven writing retreats I went on.  Here's a little reflection on them. 

Haven gave me courage

My heart was gaping and yearned for distraction. 

The hole that was torn wide open with Jeff's death on September 11, 2001 had healed somewhat with time.  It's true that my heart will never be completely healed.  I still feel the loss of my husband every day, but I've learned to live without his physical presence in my life, not because I wanted to but because I had to.

 And I learned to let someone else in -- even though it took me nearly 8 years.  I discovered love again.  It was a different kind of love that I felt for Jeff, but it was definitely real love.  I don't believe love can ever feel the same anyway.  The man I was seeing seemed to understand the trauma I felt losing Jeff in such a surreal tragedy, and that made him special to me in his own rite.  

Then in August, 2012, after being together for 3+ years, the man I loved, trusted and felt safe with, ended "us," leaving my heart wide open once more. The words ‘I can’t do this anymore’  rang through my head like a broken record stuck on the most ear-piercing verse. There I was, left reeling. Alone. Feeling completely empty again.  But I would persevere, because I had to, and this time, because I wanted to.  (Somehow we've even managed to maintain a friendship of sorts, even two years after the breakup.) 

I was determined to be ok.  I had survived worse -- much worse.

So with my “month from hell” upon me -- the anniversary of 9/11, my birthday and Jeff's birthday, all within a week,
our anniversary a few weeks later, and facing the empty nest with my youngest having gone away to college – I plunged back into life. I decided to do things for ME, that would make me feel ok with not being part of a couple.  I did it for 8 years, and I thrived.  I could do it again.  To help get there, I searched for an adventure.

I heard about Haven retreats from a facebook friend. I had always wanted to go to Montana, and I needed something to re-invigorate my writing.   So I took a huge leap of faith, jumped out of my comfort zone without looking back, and booked a Haven retreat.

My flight left Boston on Jeff’s birthday – September 18. Mid flight of the first leg I realized that I booked my car out of one airport, while I was landing at another. Ooops.   After some begging to the rental agent on the layover, I was able to fix that snafu. While checking in, I noticed my license had expired … 3 days prior, on my birthday. I prayed the agent wouldn’t notice. I think he did, but opted not to pay attention to it since he knew I was in a bind already trying to get a car. My little travel mess-up meant that I would drive two hours to Whitefish, but I was fine with that. I wanted to see Montana, not just go there. I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, stopping on the way to take pictures and soak up the stunning Montana scenery. 

Walking Lightly, where Haven is based, was amazing. I was greeted by David, a truly kind soul who walked me upstairs, and told me to choose my room. The decision was easy – I chose the room with a picture window over-looking the small lake. Haven had just become my Heaven. Any nerves I had were gone. I felt my burdens lift. Meeting the wonderful women I was spending the next four days with confirmed that this was just the distraction I needed. Over the course of that time, we wrote from the heart, pouring out the details of our lives that defined us, tormented us, amused us and excited us, with Laura Munson, our writing mentor, at the helm. We laughed, we cried, we laughed some more, we encouraged each other and we constructively critiqued each other’s written word.  We became friends – Walking Lightly Sisters in Writing friends.  

Since then I’ve gone on another Haven retreat, this one in Los Cabos, Mexico. It was very different from Montana, but the women, fellow Cabo Wordshakers, were equally inspiring, as was Laura, and the environment. I came home with more new friends and a renewed appreciation for my own writing.

Through Haven, I gave myself the best gift ever, one that I knew I truly deserved – the gift of self recognition, acknowledgement, and time for myself.  And in return, Haven gave me confidence in my writing, and courage to face, rather than run from, that which we can't control.