My father was a huge person and while I used to be a toddler he enjoyed my crying and screaming when he sat me on his shoulders until it started to bother him and then he would drop me on purpose.
That’s how I grew a horrible phobia of hights. That kind of phobia, I couldn’t even balance standing on a chair.
In Middleschool my sports teacher thought I was lying and forced me to climb up a lame 3m ladder and jump down onto a bulky matt. Fear is shit tho. Don’t know how but I broke my thumb. (hahaha) That asshole never made me climb any shit ever again
At age 15 we thought it be cool to climb up the roof of the local Home Depot and get drunk. Once were just drunk enough (whatever that means) we dared each other to jump down the rooftop onto a palette of potting soil which was kept on the backside of the store. (Like it would make a difference to land on plastic bags full of soil or just the plain ground, but ehhhhhh).
God must have thought we are hilarious idiots, so he just let it happen for entertainment.
Anyway, I also jumped (and survived) and I never been a sissy about hights anymore. Which is cool enough. But now I made the decision to top that shit. Just wait for summer 2014…