I Can Remember It Like It Was Yesterday
I’m 12 years old at a school-wide bonding day and we’re in groups of 15. The point of this day out was for it to be a fun, interactive group experience where everyone goes through this ropes course and works as a team to get through it—easy enough, right?
There were multiple teams, so of course, we were out to win. We were all winding our way through the ropes, laughing, and sliding around, and before I knew it, we were almost near the end.
As I looked ahead through the trees, I noticed each person disappear over the wooden ledge one by one. Maybe they’re climbing down, I thought. I somehow managed to wriggle my way to the back of the line as the ledge came closer and closer.
Finally, I neared the edge of the tree line and realized just how high up I was—and that we were not going to be climbing down.
Before I knew it, I was the last one up there, standing at the edge, looking down at all my classmates screaming, “JUMP!” Everyone was having a blast, high on the fact that our whole group had almost successfully completed the obstacle course before the other teams. The only thing left was for me to jump.
I was connected to a harness. Everyone had just safely done it. There was a large group of people at the bottom cheering me on. The only way we could win was if I jumped.
I kept telling myself it was fine. I could do it. But my legs wouldn’t move—I was frozen, physically and mentally.
Almost 20 minutes passed. I was still standing at the top, occasionally looking over the edge, backing away, and repeating. After about 5 more minutes, the encouragement to jump changed to encouragement to give up and climb down the back.
I couldn’t do it. I climbed down. I was greeted by looks of pity and disappointment. No one would laugh it off with me. I let everyone down. That moment stuck with me.
14 Years Later
I find myself on a trip to visit my younger sister in Australia while she’s studying on the Gold Coast. A few weeks before I arrive, she casually tells me that she’s planned a skydiving trip for us.
My heart sinks.
I love adventure—but there’s no way you’re going to get me to jump out of a plane. It seems absolutely ridiculous. My thoughts quickly go back to that day 14 years ago, standing frozen on the platform, the moment I wouldn’t jump and ruined everything for my group.
Why was I afraid? Everyone else had done it. Why did I have to be the only one to chicken out?
And with that thought, I texted my sister: “Sign me up.”
The plans were set.
I forced the thought to the back of my mind for the next few weeks—and even through the beginning of the trip. A few days before the jump, it started to loom. I can’t do it.
I stood on the balcony of my hotel, looking down, realizing that soon I would be 10 times higher than that… and jumping. I can’t do it.
My internal freakout started to manifest physically. I texted my sister that I was out. Not doing it. No way. Done.
All I got back was: “Okay, I’ll cancel yours.”
No jokes. No jabs. Just quiet disappointment—just like 14 years ago.
That’s when it hit me. This had nothing to do with what other people thought of me. It was about how I felt about myself. This was a fear that had followed me for years. And the only way to overcome it was to jump.
The morning of the dive, I woke up to realize my sister never actually cancelled it. I took that as a sign.
Cramped up on the bench in a tiny plane, I braced myself as they slid open the side panel, exposing us to 14,000 feet of nothingness. Just sweeping views of Byron Bay beneath me.
And in one swift slide across the bench… I jumped.
Need Some Tips on How to Not Back Out of Your Skydive? Read On:
1. Look at the Facts
Feeling afraid to take the plunge? It’s normal. But if you want to feel better, just do some research. Statistically, driving a car is more dangerous than tandem skydiving. Same with hiking, boxing, and bike racing.
Australia and New Zealand have some of the safest skydive records in the world—you’ll be in good hands.
2. Don’t Read the Waivers
Just like joining a gym, you’ll have to sign some paperwork. Legally, they have to list everything that could go wrong. But when you’re skydiving, you’re literally just strapped to someone else. You don’t have to do anything.
Reading the waiver will only freak you out—so don’t.
3. Showing Up Is the Hardest Part
It sounds cliché, but it’s true. You’ve already booked it—you want to do it for a reason. Just show up.
Once you’re there, you’ll meet instructors who have done this thousands of times. Their calm, casual attitude will make you feel silly for panicking. Trust me, it helps.
4. Bring Friends
Peer pressure isn’t always a bad thing. When everyone around you is doing something bold, it’s easier to be bold too. Seeing your friends jump makes it easier to convince yourself you can do it too.
5. Choose a Place You Love
You’re probably only going to skydive once—so make it count.
Over the ocean in Byron Bay? Above The Remarkables in Queenstown? Landing on the beach in Mission Beach?
Whether you’re a mountain person, lake person, or beach person—there’s a drop zone for you.
6. Just Do It
Easier said than done, I know. But sometimes, you just have to commit.
That feeling of freefalling, followed by soaring peacefully through the sky to the landing zone—it’s incomparable. And nothing beats the feeling of accomplishment when you hit the ground and realize:
You. Did. It.
Anxiety has a funny way of disguising itself as intuition when we’re scared. But sometimes, the best thing you can do is jump anyway.
Once you land, I promise—the first thing on your mind will be:
What fear can I overcome next?
This article was originally written for Peterpans Adventure Travel. All opinions are my own.
Sylvia Dan Copy 