The Scary Stairs

Let me begin by saying that I have had a fear of heights since I was four years old. I first realized this fear at Woodfield Shopping Mall in Schaumburg, Illinois when my mother wanted me to walk down the stairs with her from the second floor to the first floor. I was so terrified, I proceeded to make my way down the staircase by sitting on my bottom and slowly sliding and bopping my butt down, one step at a time.

As a young teen and later as an adult, I was afraid to walk near any railing or half-wall that overlooked the floors below. Whether it was at a shopping mall, museum or library, if there was an area where you could look down over the lower floors, I walked as far away from that railing as possible.


Open staircases, stairways without railings and spiral staircases were always a no-no for me. The minute I stepped on them, I felt dizzy and woozy and couldn't wait to get off. I was so afraid to drive over bridges that my car would suddenly morph into The White Knuckle Express as I gripped the steering wheel to the point where the blood drained from my hands. With invisible blinders on, I would stare straight ahead and do the best I could to block out the drop that existed on either side of the bridge.

When I reached my early thirties, I decided it was time to conquer my fear of heights. My strategy for accomplishing this feat was to go rock climbing with friends. On the day of the climb, I was nervous but excited. The rock we were climbing was 60 feet in height, or about five to six stories high. Once I reached the plateau I would rappel 120 feet down the other side. As I slowly made my way up the cliff, grabbing for footholds and handholds, I focused only on the next step instead of the entire climb ahead of me. After rock climbing I was able to walk near the railings at the shopping malls and tackle most staircases.

When I arrived in Germany, Mario and I entered the house together for the first time and walked up the stairs to our levels of the house. The first thing I noticed was the open stairway that came down in the middle of the hallway and lead to a hatch-like door in the ceiling. I knew right away, from previous phone conversations, this must be the staircase leading up to the bedroom. I didn't say anything to Mario but I immediately thought "Oh god, I'm never going to make it up to the bedroom."


The stairs were terrifying. After Mario showed me around the first level, he asked if I wanted to see the upstairs. What was I supposed to say? "No, I'm too scared to climb the stairs." I quietly gulped a deep breath and prayed to god he would take the initiative and lead the way. Thankfully, he did.


Mario made his way up the stairs as if he was skipping along the sidewalk without a care in the world. As he ascended the stairs, my brain was rapidly calculating how many steps I had to get up before I would have something to hold onto for dear life. For a split second, I wondered if I would look like a moron if I climbed the stairs like a ladder, holding onto the step above me as I worked my way up. Deciding the answer to that question would be "yes", I stepped up onto the first step and continued to ascend the staircase. At the top of the stairs, I prayed that my lack of grace wouldn't overtake me, causing me to fall through the hatch because I knew if I tumbled down the stairs I would have to hide in the closet for the rest of my life in Germany.


In addition to the large bedroom at the top of the stairs, Mario had created private office space for me to use for work. I was so appreciative of the office space with it's L-shaped desk, room for my computer, family pictures and a nice-sized window for fresh air that I knew I had to come up and down the stairs. In addition to wanting to be able to sleep in the bed, the upstairs office was another reason to climb the Scary Stairs.


We turned from the office to go back downstairs and I was confronted with the fact that I would have to step through a hole in the ceiling with nothing to hang onto while trying to establish my footing on the steps.

"How do you go down the stairs?" I asked Mario. Again, he stepped onto the top step, without holding onto anything, and walked down as if he was stepping off a short curb onto the street. I knew, without a doubt, Mario's method of walking down the stairs was never going to work for me and I had to quickly figure out a way to get downstairs since the only bathroom in the house was on our first level.


For a split second, I considered going down the entire staircase on my rear end, just like I did at Woodfield Shopping Mall when I was four years old. Imagine how impressive and graceful it would look to see a grown woman in a dress bopping down the stairs on her butt? I couldn't embarrass and shame myself like that so I made a compromise. I sat down at the top of the hatch-style door so my feet touched the third step down. Then I gripped the sides of the hatch and walked down far enough until I reached the point where I didn't have to hold onto anything anymore. Luckily, Mario had gone on ahead of me, rather than standing there to witness the entire embarrassing episode.


On my fourth day I was still apprehensive about the stairs but the only other option available, besides climbing them, was to stay on the first floor for the rest of my life or stay upstairs forever and be forced to wear adult diapers.That afternoon, Mario was showing me something in the office upstairs and when he was finished, we proceeded to head toward the stairs. Usually, he keeps going once he reaches the first floor, but this time he turned around, saw me sitting at the stop of the steps and said to me in a puzzled voice "What are you doing?"

"This is how I always do it." I replied, matter-of-factly. Mario is too much of a gentleman to say anything but I'm certain he thinks I'm crazy...if not for my unique way of descending the Scary Stairs, then for another reason...and he's probably right.