English Original
Fear is a fact of life everyone faces from time to time. In most cases, fear is a healthy reaction to a dangerous situation. But sometimes fear can be so extreme, so overwhelming, that it interferes with normal living. That is what happened to me driving cross-country last summer.
I'd agreed to help my brother, Mac, move from the East Coast to California. He would drive a rental truck loaded with his belongings, and I would follow him in his sedan, then fly back. We figured it would be a simple trip, with four or five motel stops along the way.
Living and working in coastal Georgia for most of my life, I did not have a great deal of long-distance driving experience. Looking back, I can see that I'd always felt a twinge of fear when driving over small bridges and along hilly highways. As I was getting ready for the trip, I had a vague concern about the steep mountain roads that lay ahead. But I thought I would get used to them.
As we crossed some high bridges near the Blue Ridge Mountains on the first leg of our trip, a kind of breathlessness gripped me, a sinking, rolling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I tended to veer slightly away from the edge of the roadway and the drop-off beyond. My knuckles whitened from my tense grip on the steering wheel. At the end of each bridge, a great rush of relief would come over me, only to be replaced in short order by fear of the next obstacle.
When we stopped in Nashville the first night, I mentioned my feelings to Mac, who is the practical sort. "Oh, that's nothing," he said cheerfully. "Lots of people hate driving on mountain roads and high bridges. Just turn up the music on your radio and focus on that. Keep your mind occupied."
I gave him a weak smile and said good night. But later, as I tossed and turned in bed, I couldn't chase away the apprehension I had about the high driving ahead. The more I tried not to think about it, the more my mind kept going back to that helpless feeling of panic I had on the first leg of the journey. My fear seemed to possess a life of its own. You're being childish, I chided myself. This is ridiculous! If I could just close my eyes and relax, I thought, the renewal of a good night's sleep would drive the fear away.
But it didn't go away. All through the flatlands of Arkansas, Oklahoma, north Texas, and New Mexico, it lay like a coiled snake inside of me. When we approached the high plateau of northern Arizona, it began to stir. As the grades grew steeper and the curves sharper, my sense of control faltered. "It's all in your head," I kept repeating desperately. "There is no danger. It's all in your head."
Yet I couldn't defeat the terror. Mile after mile, it was like an invisible force drawing my attention toward the edge of the road where the soft shoulder gave way to thin air. I tried everything I could think of. I cranked up the radio. Sang songs. Recited poetry. All to no avail. The palms of my hands were so sweaty that I had to squeeze the steering wheel to keep my grip.
I kept closing the gap between my car and my brother's truck, inching toward the reassuring glow of the taillights like a frightened sheep following a shepherd. I could see Mac watching me in his rearview mirror, and that night at supper in Kingman, Arizona, he said, "Leigh, you're tailgating. You're much too close for these mountain roads." He studied my face for a moment, then added, "Tomorrow will be the last day of high country. Just try to hang in there. We've got this far okay. You know there's nothing to be afraid of."
I understood that. I had to go on. But the prospect of hairpin turns and sheer drop-offs made it impossible for me to eat any supper. Mac tried to keep the conversation breezy, but it didn't help. I excused myself early and went to bed, exhausted.
中文翻译
恐惧是每个人在生活中都会不时面对的事实。在大多数情况下，恐惧是对危险情况的健康反应。但有时，恐惧会变得如此极端、如此难以承受，以至于干扰正常生活。这就是去年夏天我驾车横穿美国时发生的情况。
我答应帮我的兄弟麦克从东海岸搬到加利福尼亚。他将驾驶一辆装满他物品的租赁卡车，而我则开着他的轿车跟在后面，然后飞回来。我们原以为这会是一次简单的旅行，沿途在四五个汽车旅馆停留即可。
由于我一生中大部分时间都在佐治亚州的沿海地区生活和工作，我没有太多的长途驾驶经验。回想起来，我发现自己开车过小桥和山路时，总会感到一阵恐惧。在为这次旅行做准备时，我对前方陡峭的山路有一种模糊的担忧。但我以为我会习惯的。
在我们旅程的第一段，穿越蓝岭山脉附近的一些高桥时，一种窒息感攫住了我，胃里有一种下沉、翻滚的感觉。我倾向于稍微偏离道路边缘和远处的陡坡。由于紧张地抓着方向盘，我的指关节都发白了。每过一座桥，我都会感到一阵巨大的解脱，但很快又会被对下一个障碍的恐惧所取代。
第一天晚上我们在纳什维尔停下时，我向务实的麦克提到了我的感受。“哦，那没什么，”他高兴地说。“很多人讨厌在山路和高桥上开车。只要把收音机的音乐开大，集中注意力听音乐就行。让你的脑子忙起来。”
我对他勉强笑了笑，道了晚安。但后来，当我在床上辗转反侧时，我无法驱散对前方高山驾驶的忧虑。我越是不去想它，我的思绪就越是回到旅程第一段那种无助的恐慌感上。我的恐惧似乎有了自己的生命。你太孩子气了，我责备自己。这太可笑了！我想，只要我能闭上眼睛放松一下，好好睡一觉就能驱散恐惧。
但它并没有消失。在穿越阿肯色州、俄克拉荷马州、德克萨斯州北部和新墨西哥州的平原时，它像一条盘踞在我体内的蛇。当我们接近亚利桑那州北部的高原时，它开始蠢蠢欲动。随着坡度越来越陡，弯道越来越急，我的控制感开始动摇。“这都是你脑子里想的，”我绝望地不断重复。“没有危险。这都是你脑子里想的。”
然而我无法战胜这种恐惧。一英里又一英里，它就像一股无形的力量，将我的注意力引向路边——那里平缓的路肩之外就是稀薄的空气。我尝试了所有我能想到的办法。我把收音机开到最大声。唱歌。背诗。全都无济于事。我的手掌汗湿得厉害，不得不紧紧握住方向盘才能抓牢。
我不断缩小我的车和我兄弟卡车之间的距离，像一只受惊的羊跟着牧羊人一样，一点点挪向那令人安心的尾灯光芒。我能看到麦克在后视镜里看着我。那天晚上，在亚利桑那州金曼吃晚饭时，他说：“莉，你跟车太近了。在这样的山路上，这距离太近了。”他端详了一下我的脸，然后补充道：“明天是最后一天的高山路段了。尽量坚持住。我们走到现在都好好的。你知道没什么好怕的。”
我明白。我必须继续前进。但一想到发卡弯和陡峭悬崖的前景，我就吃不下任何晚饭。麦克试图让谈话轻松愉快，但没什么用。我早早找了个借口，筋疲力尽地上床睡觉了。