Facing my fears

When I tell people my passion is international travel they are always inquisitive of the details. When they learn I spend the majority of my travel time alone, on a very tight budget, with a very-very small backpack and little else, they all say the same thing, “you’re so brave.” At first this comment caught me off guard as backpacking and international travel don’t seem scary to me by definition; but over time I’ve realized people see what I do as brave, because it is something they have never done. The unknown/unfamiliar is scary. To face the unknown and just go for it, is really frightening, because it requires us to relinquish control and let things happen to us. As a “control freak” this is a horrifying concept, yet surprisingly only recently did I realize, when I travel I let down my guard, my need for control. I fly by the seat of my pants, go places where I can’t speak the language or even read a street sign. I surrender myself to the chaos of my foreign surroundings.

This is something I need to do in more aspects of my life, letting go and seeing what happens. Exploring what there is to learn about myself and the world by taking a chance and doing something where control is in the hands of someone else. Enter bungy jumping or because of my somewhat fragile back, bungy swinging. Queenstown, New Zealand often called the adrenaline capital of the world, offers many options for letting someone else have control; in my case the employees of bungy operator, AJ Hacket.

I asked a lot of questions as I was being strapped into the bungy harness, continued asking questions as I was lowered over the drop sight. They told me when I was ready to fall, all I had to do was pull the red rip cord. That was the moment it I realized, I had control over when I would plummet toward the ground but was not in control of when the plummeting would stop. I was the one who chose to do this crazy thing, but not the one who was controlling my experience. I had to let go and know that I would be ok.

I looked out over Queenstown. The red ripcord in my hand and took a deep breath, one of the bungy techs counted back from five, he told me to pull on “one”. I appreciated the help. “Five, four, three, two”, I felt a surge of adrenaline as I knew I was about to go, “one”. I jerked tightly on the cord, nothing. I was still there. The cord and the pin still connected. The cord was still attached. My moment of bravery gone, the adrenaline stopped pumping through me. The tech yelled out, “cords stuck, try wiggling it a little” I looked down at the cord and began to wiggle it. At first nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the cord flew out of the harness and I suddenly felt weightless and 10,000 pounds all at the same time. I was not ready at all, true fear surged through me, my heart raced. I was falling really, really fast toward the ground. Then I stopped falling and started to swing out over the city. At that moment I felt, good. The view was amazing and I was alive. A little while later I was back on solid ground, with adrenaline pumping through me. I was crazy high from the thrill of it all.

I can still feel that horrifying weightlessness feeling if I close my eyes and think about the situation. Am I glad I did the bungy swing, absolutely. Would I do it again, I just might. Am I still obsessed with being in control, indeed I am. Nonetheless, I tell myself, this was a good step and just another way I am brave; brave enough to face my personal fears, brave enough to fly without a safety net, brave enough to do what it takes to learn and grow, brave enough to go for what I want and except no substitutions.