Sometimes You Just Have to Jump
I learned this lesson as a young child, maybe around 7 or 8 years old. I remember being at a cousin's birthday party one beautiful late summer day. It was at a small pond with a man made beach and a diving board out in the middle of the water. My mom would always joke that I was part fish and that no one could drag me out of the water even if I was as shriveled as a prune.
By this point in my childhood I had a couple years of swim lessons under my belt and had even gone off the diving board at public pools. But this diving board and this pond were different. A far cry from the crystal clear, over chlorinated water in the pool I was used to swimming in. This water was dark and murky and there was no way for me to tell what was lurking beneath the surface. What if I jumped in and sunk so far down I couldn't swim back up or what if some unknown creature swallowed me whole? I was worried about the various outcomes, but still something about the diving board called to me. I told my mom I really wanted to jump off it but I was scared to. She came up with a genius plan. She would stand on the diving board with me to give encouragement, and one of my older cousins, who I so looked up to, would wait in the water for me.
As I approached the edge of the diving board all of my anxieties mounted, and I wanted to run back to the safety of my mom and solid ground. But I'd gotten all the way up there and didn't want to chicken out or, god forbid, disappoint my mom and cousin. So I balled my clammy hands into fists, squeezed my eyes shut, and leapt off the board. I cannonballed into the chilly water and sunk into it's depths for a moment, all the while bracing myself for a possible encounter with a hidden Nessie-like creature who was surely waiting for this exact opportunity to have her lunch. Much to my surprise that encounter never came! I ferociously kicked my way to the surface and as soon as my head emerged I gasped, exhilarated by my experience.
"I want to go again!!!" I screamed to everyone and no one in particular.
And I went again and again and again. I jumped off that board so many times I'm sure my cousin and mom were sick of watching me. But I couldn't stop. I faced my fears and was rewarded for my bravery. I've taken this lesson with me throughout my life. Even now, as an adult, I sometimes feel like I'm back on the edge of that diving board. Looking down into the murky unknown of my future. I can either choose to go back the way I came, to the safety and comfort of solid ground beneath my feet. Or...
I can jump.
