Falling

I am a woman of habit. Of compulsion and obsession too (oh no, it's obsession and compulsion, not compulsion and obsession, how could I have got that wrong? OBSESSION and COMPULSION) See what I mean?

Today I was walking round the glorious retail mini-paradise that is the Metro Centre and had to inform my friend that we were 'on the wrong sides' and I had to swap round from her right to her left. Seriously.

And then I was standing on the upper floor where there is a balconette type area. You can stand by a bannister thing and look down to the floor below. See the people walking. They look like tiny ants (Well, they look like people only smaller, I think I have confused myself for the BFG or something....) Anyway the point is, there I was looking down...and I wanted to jump.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am not suicidal. I have not had the best week this week but I am not a depressive. I don't WANT to injure or kill myself by falling from great heights, but....the thought was there.

Perhaps, more worringly, this isn't the first time this has happened. At University I remember we had a lecture in a large room on the upper floor of a huge building, affectionately known as 'Parky'. When I'd climbed the stairs and was leaning against the railings, looking down, I would often announce to my friends 'Don't you just feel like jumping off?' to which they would reply 'NOOO' insistently.

There was also that time I was in Tesco with my Mam. On the upper floor, surveying the clothes, I suddenly turned around to see the aisles of food below. I said to my Mum 'I just feel like jumping down' to the horror of a nearby shopper who mumbled something such as 'Oooh no I don't, it doesn't bear thinking about' wheeling her trolley away in disgust.

But I'm not mad.

Well, I am....but this has nothing to do with that.

It's that feeling of being free. Of 'I can do anything up here'. The potential adrenaline rush. The fear. The blood pumping. The lack of your comfort zone. Of just being 'close to the edge'. I just feel good like that, looking down. I don't want to jump down, I want to feel jumping down. I want to feel like I could jump down if I wanted to. Like for a second the impossible is possible, and I could defy gravity, I could prove Isaac Newton wrong, I could reach into my dreams and take a dose of fantasy, and float near the ceiling like I have there before. Everything becomes brilliant, no matter how small the gap between my feet and the floor. Everything becomes a possibility, no matter how far my feet from the ground.

I found out recently that these thoughts of jumping from a high place are linked to OCD, something which I do suffer with considerably. But I think the message of this irrational split-moment thought remains all the same. That is,we all want to feel free, to feel challenged, to feel on the edge. For things to happen for us so easily, as easily as just falling - it requires no skill, just the daring to jump.

Next time I'm hanging out my window, or walking up Roseberry Topping, I think I might refrain from launching myself to the ground on a whim. All the same, next time I'm at a metaphorical high point, with a beautiful view and the audacity to believe....I'm going to jump.