“Would you like to climb to the top?” my guide asked.

“Nope. I’m fine.”

“I will climb with you. I’ll help if you need it.”

I looked up. Climbing 46 meters into the air was not on my to-do list while visiting Yaxha.

Especially since I’m terrified of heights.

I took a deep breath and focused on one step at a time. I made it to the first platform and paused.

“Ready for the very top?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll be right with you.”

I hesitated. We were already as tall as the massive jungle trees. My fear was loud. I had gone far enough. I knew my limits.

But then my mouth said, “Okay.” And my body began moving before my fear could regain control. I was grateful for a little rock-climbing experience, because the higher we climbed, the smaller the footholds and handholds became.

I made it to the top.

Vertigo hit me hard, but I steadied myself and stepped fully onto the platform. And then, I saw it.

The view was breathtaking. The picture I took does not do it justice. We stood taller than the jungle canopy. The wind was gentle. Birds circled and called. It was peaceful. Spacious. Perfect.

And then I remembered: I had to get back down.

I looked over the ledge. From below, the structure appears angled. From the top, it feels straight down.

I made it to the first platform, but panic rose quickly. My body began to shake. I sat down and took slow, deep breaths. My guide waited patiently beside me.

Inside, another voice began shouting: You idiot. You know you’re afraid of heights. What were you thinking?

But another truth answered back: You got up here. You can get down.

When I was ready, he took my hand and helped me step down as if I were stepping onto an escalator. I focused on one step at a time. Not the bottom. Not the height. Just the next step.

Sometimes we had to move all the way to the left to find a better foothold. Sometimes to the far right. Often we stayed in the middle. We adjusted as we went.

And eventually, I reached the safety of the ground.

Sometimes the most breathtaking views require us to move beyond what feels safe. Sometimes courage looks like saying “okay” before we fully believe we can.

And sometimes the hardest part isn’t climbing up, it’s trusting ourselves enough to come back down.

What mattered most was not my strength or skill, but presence. One step. One breath. One adjustment at a time.

And I didn’t climb alone.

Life often asks us to rise higher than we think we can. The view may change us. The descent may humble us. But if we move slowly, accept help, and adjust as needed, we discover something truer than fear:

We are capable of more than we imagine.

A newsletter by Katie Rea.