Space Mountain and Fear: Life Lessons from the Magic Kingdom

On my 42nd birthday my husband and I went to Disneyland. My family has a long history of excursions to the Magic Kingdom on both coasts. We favored Disneyworld in Florida, since we lived in the South, and it was closer than Disneyland, but I have had memorable experiences in both locations.

When I was 11 years old my family made the trek to Southern California to visit my two uncles. During that trip we made a stop at Disneyland along with two of my cousins. My cousin, Joe, one year my senior, was eager to ride Space Mountain. I, on the other hand, was terrified, because they told me the ride is in total darkness, so I declined. Those who went on the ride had a blast.

I felt left out, but I was not about to put myself in such a terrifying position. Roller coaster rides were difficult enough for me when I could see where I was going. As long as I could brace myself for the steep drops, I was all right. Never would you see me with my hands held high in the air. I was the one with the white-knuckled stranglehold on the bar that secured me to my seat. I was the person who screamed continuously from the time the coaster left the platform until its return 90 seconds later. Yes, I would ride roller coasters, but I did so with fear and trepidation.

I've gone through life treading lightly, fearful of rejection, fearful of emotional pain. Physical pain I can handle. Want to see the chainsaw scar on my knee? No, I didn't do it on purpose. I said I can handle physical pain; I'm not a masochist! On another visit to the Magic Kingdom, this time to Disneyworld, I carried my autograph book. I wanted to get Mickey Mouse's autograph. I was a young teen, probably 13 or 14 years old, and painfully shy. I stood away from the crowd, fearful of approaching to ask for that autograph. It didn't matter that plenty of other children were being rewarded with an autograph by the simple act of holding out their book towards the big person in the mouse suit.

I was paralyzed with fear. I wanted to be recognized without having to put forth the (terrifying) effort of drawing nigh and extending my arm. OK, maybe that seems extreme to you, but to me it was overwhelming. I walked away without Mickey's Mouse signature. My father's words of wisdom, which I did NOT appreciate at the time, are forever etched in my mind: "The meek shall inherit the earth, but they won't get Mickey's autograph."

Going back to Space Mountain, this may have been the same trip in which my sister, Kimberly, my Dad, and I rode Space Mountain together. For some reason, I rode beside Dad, and Kimberly was by herself. She said she spent the entire ride silently singing "Amazing Grace," fearful she was going to die. I can relate to that kind of fear. Every time I've rode Space Mountain, I have feared the coaster would jump the track and wondered whether I would die. I've wondered at what point I would realize that we were going to crash. I wondered if it would be a clean, quick death or a slow, painful one. For that matter, every single time I have ridden a roller coaster ride I've had these thoughts. By the way, I asked my brother, Matthew, if he had any of the fears my sister and I share and he said he just enjoyed the exhilaration of the ride, trusting that the roller coasters are extremely well engineered. Wow! Why didn't I think of that?!

When my late husband, Al, and I rode Space Mountain in 2002, we got a shock mid-ride, when the coaster was halted because of unknown technical difficulties. We sat in our "spacecraft" for about 15 minutes before they towed all of the vehicles back to the space dock. What was amazing to me is that they had turned on the lights, so I could see the entire roller coaster. It was like seeing the man behind the curtain controlling the Wizard of Oz. I lost a small degree of the fear of that ride on that day.

Those of us whose ride was interrupted mid-thrill were offered the unique opportunity of getting right back on the ride to do it again, no waiting. You may be thinking, "Why would I want to be the first to test out the coaster after technical difficulties?" We thought the same thing, but we boarded the potential "vessel of death" anyway. I suppose you could say I "felt the fear and did it anyway."

That was the last time I visited the Magic Kingdom until 2008, when I went to Disneyland a few days shy of my 41st birthday. I rode at the very front of the shuttle, a first for me, and once again, my fear was palpable, maybe more so because I could see the tracks and I was sure I was going to die right then and there. However, I cheated death and lived to see another day and ride the Mountain yet again.

Some people reading this may wonder why I would continue to ride when I obviously still experience a great deal of fear. I know people enjoy being "scared" when they watch horror movies. I don't do horror movies. I don't really understand the psychology of fear. I do know, however, that I experienced a transformation on my most recent trip to Disneyland.

Since my late husband's death, my life has changed quite a bit. I remarried, and I now live in California, 15 miles or so from Disneyland. My new husband, Javier, treated me to a day at Disneyland to mark the 42nd year of my life. He and I boarded the Space Mountain shuttle in the very back this time. I don't know where this idea came from, but I am sincerely grateful for it. As we began the trek up the steep ramp, I told myself, "I'm going to pretend I'm in Outer Space and floating (speedily) among the stars."

You may think, "Duh. That's the point of the ride." Yet, for me, this was a profound mental transformation. In an instant, my thoughts changed from fear to wonder. I decided to enjoy the ride as it was intended. What a ride it was! Did you know there's music during this ride? How could something so obvious as music escape me all these years? I still held onto the bar and braced myself with my feet, but I was mostly silent for the entire experience. I still let out a couple of squeals, and, yes, I did wonder, briefly, if I was going to die.

Here's what happened when I allowed myself to enjoy the thrill of the ride: I felt free. Yes, the fear was still there, but it was relegated to a small corner of my mind, instead of taking its usual place on center stage. When I robbed fear of its starring role, I experienced Space Mountain for the first time.

I felt the cold air in my face, I marveled at the beauty of the music, thinking how perfectly it melded with the experience of traveling at warp speed through the stars of Outer Space. I could have continued that journey for hours. It was a truly magical experience. It took nearly 30 years to truly appreciate Space Mountain.

I was transformed. I had kicked fear's butt and only I remained. Once we debarked, I noticed that I was walking as if I were tipsy until I finally got my earth legs back. It didn't matter. Javier steadied me as we walked toward the exit. I whispered in his ear, "I want to go again."

(If you're wondering how this applies to dating, stay tuned. Fear can hold you back in many areas of your life, including dating. More soon.)

Michelle E. Vásquez
Your Successful Singles Love Coach