A phobia is defined as a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding, typically disproportional to the actual danger posed, often being recognized as irrational. In the event the phobia cannot be avoided entirely, the sufferer will endure the situation or object with marked distress and significant interference in social or occupational activities.

I never knew when my fear of heights started. One of the first things I remember about being afraid of heights was when I was a little kid was being too afraid to climb up the slide ladder in preschool because I thought it was too high up. My friends kept waiting for me to come down but I must have walked up and down that ladder 10 different times because if I stayed up there for longer than 20 seconds, I would probably cry. And boy, did I cry a lot from being scared. I don’t know how it started, but I know I would have never started thinking about why I was so scared of heights until my senior year of high school, when a 20-some year old teaching assistant asked me, “So would you say you are afraid of heights, or afraid of falling?” I was dead silent. I honestly didn’t know. I knew that when I got to a certain height, I would start to panic. When we talked about how sometimes phobias are created by a certain traumatic event in our early life stages, I called up my dad and asked him why I became afraid of heights, or possibly even falling. After getting me to believe that he pushed me out of a window when I was a toddler (which may sound funny but to a kid with this kind of fear it was a sick, cruel, joke), he told me that he couldn’t remember any specific time when I first showed signs of acrophobia (yeah, I just looked that up). I thought about it for a while; I went back to my earliest memories of rollercoasters, ziplines, rock-climbing walls, anything you could think of higher than 6 feet. Yes, I said 6 feet. And if you, reading this, were hoping for me to finally say why I am acrophobic, guess what, you’re not going to. You can call it a cop out if you want to, but the honest to god truth is that this fear of mine cannot be explained. It’s been with me my entire life just like any other thing I’ve kept close to me. It doesn’t make me a psycho or anything; I can still stand on a stool to reach a bowl on the top shelf for my mom. I have no idea when or why this started, and to be perfectly honest, maybe I’d rather not know. My dad freaked me out the ol’ push your kid out the window gaff, I’m a little worried about how I would react if it were something worse. Who knows, who cares. Just as long as I have my sweet two feet on the ground, I’m going to be a happy camper.

Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development, explain eight stages through which a healthily developing human should pass from infancy to late adulthood.

It took me a while to figure out who I really wanted to be. Everyone goes through multiple phases that help them figure out what they actually liked to do and what they didn’t like to do. But for me, I was always in limbo. I never joined any specific clique or dedicated my time to one thing in particular. Nor did float around to these different environments around me. I kind of just stayed in one place and waited to see who I would become. According to Erik Erikson, one must test various roles and eventually settle into a consistent environment in order to form close relationships and ultimately live a happy life. But why did I need to go out and experience different things by myself in order to find a group to do it with me? I had a different approach. Not necessarily a good one, but it ended up working for me. If all my friends were playing baseball, I would go play baseball. Not because I thought that if I kept playing baseball I would eventually become a major league superstar, but because that’s what everyone was doing and they seemed to be having fun doing it. When I got to high school and my friends were drinking, I’d probably join them, but not to try and look cool, but because realistically there was nothing else going on. People say going out and experience new things will help you find your true identity, but sometimes it’s ok to let your identity come to you. Although I can be very energetic and outspoken, I can also be introverted and kept within my own thoughts. During the time when all my friends (who at this point were about 12 and 13 years old and truly didn’t know anything about their own futures) were practicing their so-called “passions,” I was enjoying my time in my own mind knowing that I would eventually find comfort. And I did. This may go against what a bunch of you may think, but just know that I believe that you don’t always have to find happiness, sometimes it may just find you.

Cognitive development is defined as the act or process of a child developing in terms of information processing, conceptual resources, perceptual skill, language learning, and other aspects of brain development and cognitive psychology compared to an adult’s point of view.

I have had a lot of different doctors. For a lot of different reasons, too. One doctor when I was really young told my mom that I had trouble paying attention. Another doctor when I was younger would sit me down and play games with me, to see how I followed the rules and what strategies I used. I had this one doctor that would give me these cards with pictures on it that would show what to remember to do when in the classroom. This included remembering to write down assignments, checking my backpack for all necessary materials, that kind of small stuff. There were others, but not for longer than two or three weeks. Growing up I had problems with organization, following directions, and just paying attention overall. I was always losing things I needed and forgetting homework assignments. I was prescribed different kinds of medicine. I can’t remember the first medication I was ever prescribed, but I can say that they never really made me feel any different. A few psychiatrists who I do remember would have me take hour to two hour-long tests so they could study my cognitive development. They thought that if they could find out how my brain worked than they could make sure that I didn’t screw up later in life. But to be honest, I did not feel comfortable with a bunch of adults telling me, a little kid, what to do so that I wouldn’t fail. These doctors should have understood that just like any other child, I need to let my cognitive skills develop on their own, and not with any extra help. As I got older I stopped letting these people make these decisions for me. I wanted to challenge myself; I wanted to not be limited by whatever kind of disability Dr. Whatever his name was told my parents I had. Since I made that decision I could not be better off. I guess I wasn’t the one who had a problem paying attention.