My 6 week countdown to jumping. Off a cliff.

I would like to think that I was born kind, strong & humane however everything about me is hugely defined by the most influential people in my life. Starting with my mother who embodies strength, love and selflessness. My father, whom I kindly refer to as “man of the people”, having dedicated his entire life’s effort and energy in service of people. My siblings that give proper meaning to my life, and lastly my husband whose heart is larger than the entire globe.

Until very recently, I was happily doing a job I completely adore as it fed my love for constant growth and a kind of evolution that I could almost touch.

Until very recently, I was going to board a plane in August and head overseas for a four week holiday with my family.

Until very recently, I had learnt to live with a dormant beast of longing and nostalgia. The beast was a living breathing part of me, a very large part of me that defied me and refused to exist within the confinement and borders of the spectacular country I live in. No matter how hard I forced it back into the shadows, it always woke up in rebellion again and again.

Until very recently, I was relatively afraid of heights and the last time I checked, I was VERY mortal. Jumping off a high cliff was NOT in my short term plans.

It all changed a few weeks ago. I do not recall the exact moment it all changed. I cannot pinpoint the particular event that changed everything. I like to think that “sometimes, very unexpectedly, everything in my life has lead me to stand on the stage/cliff and shine/jump”.

So for a few weeks now, I have been prepping for a very high altitude jump. And when I say high, I actually mean scarily frighteningly high.

I have chosen to free-fall. I have decided there will be no safety net (so I decided to quit my job), no elastic cord (so I would not take my husband along), no ankle harness (so I would be completely on my own), no parachute. Just me, off a cliff.

I have been called brave, strong, stupid. I have received the occasional sympathy look. Sometimes a look of envy, sorrow, admiration, fear, shock (…) all because I have decided to jump.

In case you are wondering, my jump is me taking a leap of faith. It consists of a one-way ticket to Lebanon. For me. Alone. Back to the country I was born and raised in. The country I have not called home in 15 years. The country that does not house my parents or siblings or my beautiful Viking. I did say the cliff was going to be high, did I not?

My jump will not be a migration back home. It will most definitely not be a soul searching journey. There will be no talk about my identity or finding a place I belong to. This jump is not about reflection and growth. There will be no talks of settling down here there or anywhere.

My jump is all about creating an impact. Infinite ripples of impact.

My jump is about the here and now. Savoring the possibility of having a here and now. No ties. No strings. Nothing. This jump is about making my wings work. And using them. Fully. Wholeheartedly.

The first step towards the cliff was submitting my resignation. That happened last week (Thursday 23 June). I thought I was going to fall apart, there were tears, a lot of tears, words of encouragement, so much self-doubt, a true moment of realization and an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions. I just needed to remember why I was doing all this.

I’m yet to tell YOU why. I promise I will, I have 6 weeks …