Imagine plummeting to the earth at 120 mph, from 13,000 feet —with your only saving grace being a parachute attached to the man behind you who is supposed to pull the chord to let it deploy.

In August, I made that jump. The anxiety was building, and for my birthday I wanted to finally take a leap of faith and jump out of a plane. Adrenaline junky? I think not. I jumped out of a plane to remind myself that sometimes you have to take a risk and take the fall. If you want it bad enough, in the end, trust me, it’s worth it all.

This summer I went on a trail of self-discovery, and attempted to understand my self-worth. I spent hours driving cross-country to go to Arizona to explore and do things I otherwise wouldn’t do, including skydiving. This was my number one thing to complete on my ever-growing bucket list.

I had promised myself that if I completed all the things, I would finally complete my ultimate test.

I had never been so full of emotion. I was strapped into a harness that was secure, and talking to a stranger about jumping out of a plane with him. With my dad beside me, my heart racing out of my chest, and the count of three ringing in my ears, I jumped.

They tell you that your falling at speeds up to 120 mph. I can confirm your face looks funny on the way down with your cheeks flapping in the air. Side note: I had it filmed, so I got to see my face flapping in the air.

As I fell, suddenly a rush came over me, and I finally knew what it felt like to fly. The feeling of wind rushing on my face and my body free falling from the sky was the final piece I needed to understand what it meant to be free. I knew in that moment nothing else mattered but what I was feeling. Skydiving taught me a valuable lesson, life is full of “what-ifs,” but going through those experiences are what can make a person great.

What if my chute didn’t deploy? I don’t know, but what I do know is, no one can take away the feeling of being in that moment. And trust me when I say, I’ll be free-falling again.

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