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The Liberation of Skydiving

Nowadays when I look at the sky, I think about the brief moment I was above the clouds, falling through the air at 120 mph with a man strapped to my back.

There was a brief moment of shock when he pulled the rig (activated the parachute might sound better?), but once I realized we were coasting through the air, I felt nothing but joy—-the purest joy to date.

My close friend Maria, someone I’ve countlessly shared on the blog before, shared the idea of going skydiving for her birthday last year. Skydiving has been on my bucket list for years, but for financial reasons, I couldn’t go last year. We ended up going this year during the brief week I was in middle Tennessee (more on this later).

We went to Music City Skydiving, and though their waiver seems very scary, I highly recommend going there. Of course, my experience was different from Maria’s, but her story is not mine to tell.

For my jump, I was partnered with the sweetest gentleman named Rick. I never felt uncomfortable with him, which was a huge plus for the entire experience. Rick verbally walked me through the entire process and the correct way to do everything, which barely pushed my nerves into gear (only a little when he mentioned rocking forward then backward at the open plane door before jumping). I patiently waited for the fear and nerves to kick in, but I was just a bottle of excitement the entire time, which is something that left me a little astonished.

I truly think I was a bird in my past life because nothing about being in the air scared me.

The pressure and weight on my shoulders, everything that was (and still kind of is) bringing me down, was released while I screamed through the air.

Beyond my screams, it was so quiet and peaceful and freeing. From various trips in the past, I thought sitting in nature was freeing. Skydiving showed me sitting in nature is a temporary cure when a dose of peace is needed; floating through the air while the land awaits you is actually freeing.

Nothing existed during my time in the sky, and it was fantastic. No anxiety. No depression. No health issues. No worry about what God-given right will be taken away. No looking over my shoulder in fear of being killed because of my melanin.

None of it existed.

In the liberation, there was hope. There was possibility. When I was in the air, I felt invincible. I was ready to take on whatever life threw at me. I was ready for the future, a time when the struggles of my 20s exist no more.

Honestly, I still can’t believe I yawned my way into jumping out of an airplane, but I would 110 percent do it again. When I look up at the sky, I’m reminded of the freedom I felt, and I can’t help but smile.