Mental Health and Photography - Hot Air Balloon Launch

Hot air balloons don’t make sense.

Did you know that people pay money (and not a small amount) to go on hot air balloon rides? There isn’t enough money on this planet to convince me to be suspended by fabric propelled by fire while standing in a waist high wicker basket. The thought of stepping into one is enough to make me sweat, let alone hovering at 7,000 feet. I was asked how one steers a balloon. You don’t. It’s not like the thing comes with a steering wheel. Nothing about this sounds humane.

Yet, people do it with a smile on their face. I know this because I saw it first hand, the smiles I mean. I will gladly take photos of others enjoying this modern day death trap, but from the ground. They are just as cool from the ground, or at least, that is what I tell myself. The solid, safe, near to earth ground.

I don’t like heights.

If it didn’t become obvious from my sentiments above, I’ll be a bit more transparent with you. I’m afraid of heights. My mind is far too informed on only one side of the equation of being far away from the earth’s surface. The emphasis, of course, being the falling and the impact with the ground side of the equation. I guess 8 years working for a fall protection company and hours of strenuous OSHA training was beneficial for something.

This fear is exaggerated with anxiety. Enough so that when invited to go and simply watch a hot air balloon launch in Letchworth State Park, the thought of going made me anxious. I’d have a front row seat of the unpacking, the industrial fans partially inflating, and the burners going full throttle to fill the balloon with hot air enough so that it tilts upright. I wasn’t going on one, that was understood. However, it begs the question; why would I be anxious about being near them?

I like control.

Having dealt with anxiety most of my life, I have pondered the topic relentlessly in hopes of finding that key element that gives relief and release. Over the years I’ve come to realize that anxiety always seems to revolve around one word; control. Or lack thereof, in most cases. I become more anxious when I don’t have control over the circumstances around me. Let's be honest, there are a lot of things I don’t have control over. Like, why can’t my cat just love me for who I am?

There is no question in my mind why I have had nightmares revolving around hot air balloons in windy or stormy conditions. Watching them fly by at high speeds, swinging back and forth like a priest with a thurible, speaks loudly the idea of lack of control. It is like my mind has painted this vivid picture of how my inside feels. I just want to be on the ground again. Anxiety sucks.

I don’t like letting go.

The reality is that the more I hold onto something with my perception of control, the more I am encouraged to be anxious. There is short term comfort in thinking you have a situation in your grips. But as your grip becomes tighter, and you begin to “feel” relief, you are caught trying to control more circumstances. The anxiety doesn’t go away, because there are still other variables to control. And when you can’t control them all, well, then it wasn’t worth doing in the first place.

I’ve landed here way too often. The idea that due to the discomfort of doing something with uncontrollable variables you convince yourself that it was never something you enjoyed doing. You don’t do it because you don’t want to. However, you realize that your not wanting to participate in that event has more to do with your anxiety than your true desire. While it is true that you don’t want to do it, your reasoning is wrapped up in your stronger desire to not be anxious.

I require control because I lack trust.

At the end of the day my issues are fairly clear. I don’t trust that I will be ok, so I gain control to ensure that I am. You know as well as I do how flawed this thinking is. It's no wonder I’ve wrestled with this as long as I have. Trust has been broken and my brain has convinced me that the only remedy is found in what I can control. So that is why I’ve begun doing my own chiropractic adjustments on my back. That, of course, is a joke. If it wasn’t I likely wouldn’t be upright like I am today.

In conclusion, I don’t trust hot air balloons, but I do like taking pictures of them… From the ground.