Well, no skydiving this past weekend. Boo *sad face*. Thunderstorms were pounding the area so they rescheduled our jump for this coming Sunday. Yay! I think…
The night before our dive I was in all out panic mode. Not because of what you would think though. Most people have told me they’re afraid of jumping out of the plane. But for me, I can’t feaking wait to jump out of the plane. That’s probably because I hate being in the plane. See, planes are my nemesis. Between the motion sickness, claustrophobia, and pain in my ears from the pressure… let’s just say it’s not my idea of fun. Yet, here I am la-de-da going to squeeze myself on an itty bitty little plane that shoots up to about 12,000 feet in a matter of minutes. Either I enjoy masochism or I’m just a touch crazy, up to you.
So to calm myself I tried a few different things… somewhere I read acetaminophen helps control anxiety. I popped a few of those bad boys (watch out liver) and waited. And waited. And waited. But my sweaty palms and racing heart were no match for those drugs. Next up I gave the Zen Buddhism thing a try. Guess you’re supposed to do some deep breathing, acknowledge your anxiety, feel your anxiety then release it to the universe kinda sorta thing. Maybe I wasn’t doing it right or the universe was closed for the night, but it didn’t help dissipate my troubles any. So you know what? When all else fails… take a big shot of NyQuil, chase it with some melatonin and call it a night.
I just hope I don’t have a repeat of all that on Saturday night. Makes me exhausted thinking about it. Then again maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t do this in the first place…. nah. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do and I’m not regretting this. You hear that stomach? Hold on tight… here we go.