For some strange reason, I woke up yesterday morning, thinking about something I hadn’t thought of for a very long time. And because it’s staying with me, I figured it was something that needed to be included in the Ramble (which, by the way, is LONG overdue).

Back when I worked with college orientation programs, part of our yearly training involved going to a ropes course and doing team building exercises. Things that involved trusting others… and sometimes things that forced you to face your deepest, most intense memories and fears.

For me, all of those things were wrapped up in the “trust fall” exercise.

The first time I had done it was back in the mid-80s as a student leader my senior year in college. We had to choose whichever height we wanted to fall from, based on our level of comfort (and trust). There were these large, round wooden pedestals of varying heights, ranging from one to about four feet tall. If I remember correctly, I chose the two-footer (and I believe I might have peed my pants a little in the process of falling). Even though I didn’t have that great a distance to fall, I kept wondering if I could depend on my team members to catch me.

What made it even more exciting unnerving was that we were asked to interlock our fingers and hold our hands up close to our chest, so that when we fell back, we wouldn’t flail our arms and risk injuring our catchers… or ourselves. It made me feel as if I had no control whatsoever as to what would happen to me once I started tipping backward into an uncertain fate.

For those of you who’ve never seen a trust fall in action, here’s a clip of one.

If you listen closely around the 1:24 mark, you’ll hear the woman gasp, “Oh, god!” as she falls backward into what she hopes are reliable arms.

I know how she felt – about eight years later, I did the trust fall again, but that time as the group leader. And I went up to the highest pedestal – you know, the “lead by example” thing. And I believe what came out of my mouth that time wasn’t quite as polite as what the woman in the video said.

What I do remember clearly, though, was that the instructions we used asked the person who was getting ready to fall to say “falling” to signal she was relying on the group, and the group catching her would respond by saying “fall on” to show they were present and would be there to catch her.

Sometimes life can feel like you’re standing on one of those pedestals – one day, it’s the short one, and others, you’re teetering on one so high with an atmosphere so thin up there, you can hardly breathe. You interlock your fingers, close your eyes, and hope there’s someone there to catch you.

I’ve always been an “independent little cuss” (that’s a Southern term, for those of you who aren’t aware). It goes back to childhood and issues of trusting that those who were there to take care of me, would, in fact, be there to do that. When those you look up to and trust end up neglecting, ignoring, or even putting you in harm’s way, you begin to learn that the only reliable, safe person you have on your side… is you. So everything you encounter in life – the easy and the challenging things – are things you often handle alone because that feels safest and most sure.

Trusting others has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to learn – my “independent little cuss” streak still rears her head at times. But I’m getting better at asking for help when I know I need it… and accepting it at times when I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t.

For me, it all comes down to discovering that one person who is reliable. Trustworthy. Supportive. Who listens. Who doesn’t judge me for whatever I’m feeling or needing or avoiding at the moment.

The one who says, “Fall on”… and knowing that, no matter which pedestal I’m on at the moment… I can.