Hi Mum, I’m jumping off a plane this weekend

Last weekend on the drive back to Melbourne from Sydney, we spotted parachutes gliding in the overcast summer sky.

“Hey I think they’re skydivers”

“Yeah, I think you may be right”

“Do you want to do it?”

“Right now?”

“Let’s go”

That was the gist of the conversation in the car before we made a u-turn and exited the highway to find the source of the parachutes.

We didn’t end up doing it.

Although it would’ve been a banging end to our road trip, the wait for a dive was over 2 hours long. And nobody wore sneakers.

So we made a pact to sky dive next weekend. This morning when I was asked to confirm, I hesitated.

I freakin’ hesitated because I was shit scared.

I rarely admit to myself that I’m scared. Fear usually takes on its other forms in my life — it usually disguises itself as procrastination or a series of self-comforting excuses. But this time fear can’t hide. There is nothing other than fear that is stopping me from (safely) jumping off a plane 14,000 feet above ground.

They bought me a non-refundable ticket. And I’m Asian so I don’t think I’ll let my $300 go to waste.

I wish there was a non-refundable ticket for everything else I’ve ever been afraid of doing in my life.

Update: I did it! I jumped! Click here to read PART II of this adventure — How to become the non-scared version of yourself