Transparency Heals pt.2

There is an excitement of taking a risk, trying something new, and the naive nature of not realizing what you are getting yourself into – until it’s staring at you in the face.

Trigger Warning:

Looking from thousands of feet above, sitting on the edge of a plane with my feet hooked was that moment for me. I watched one by one each person get sucked out of the aircraft while gravity aggressively brought you back to the ground. I tensed and froze completely.

I forgot to signal that I was ready, so he whispered in my ear, "Are you ready?" I barely nodded my head as the shock was in every crevice of my body. Then, we rushed out into the world, and we were flying with the clouds.

Except suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I felt a force with a hand around my neck, holding my face up. Air rushed into my nostrils; this man and the wind were suffocating me.

I first thought maybe he was trying to help me. But as I couldn't breathe, I fought him off me, just fighting for my next inhale.

I fought him off. And for a few moments, I was okay. Okay, as you can be . But, I wanted it to be over.

Until his hand wrapped around my neck again, forcing my head up again. He was choking me.

I fought him off again and again - confused.

Struggling; I felt like my instincts kicked in while falling through the air. It feels like a blur of memory now, but I have the pictures to prove it.

When the parachute was pulled I felt peace—drifting through the wind. The fight was over, and the ground was getting closer and closer.

I was in shock. When my feet finally reached the floor, I wasn't sure if I did something wrong during the jump or why that kept happening. I naively still trust this stranger I put my life in, but I just fought him off to save my life.

Once we got back to the station and office, I asked him why he did that and what happened.

He yelled at me got in my face saying how he saved my life because my form was wrong.

We barely got any instruction before, so truly, I didn't know. But as he stormed off, I stood there alone, shocked and confused, unsure how to process or proceed.

I cried and sobbed silently the whole way home.

On my birthday, nonetheless, I still had a little gathering to get some food with family to celebrate. So, the people-pleaser I was at the time, I sucked it up, wiped my tears, and went when all I wanted was to wash away this day and crawl into bed.

Telling my family what happened, I started to use humor to hide the broken pieces and not want to get into it. But, as they laughed along, it only dug deeper into my pain. And telling my parents it broke them. They didn't want to hear it.

But here I was left with the pictures of this incident, pictures of this man's hand around my neck and him staring into the camera. Not sure what to do. I just wanted it to go away.

I now realize how the person I was put everyone else’s needs first, even if it created more suffering for herself. Even after getting choked falling through the air, I was still protecting others more than I was protecting myself.

I felt like I had no one.

Years later though, I found healing in Yosemite and Sequoia National Park and I realized the true healings powers of nature.

Yosemite was a level of nature I hadn't experienced before; not only was I looking at gorgeous waterfalls, but I could feel the energy of the land pulse through my veins -- like we were immersing into one. I felt safe but also powerful.

While my friend and I sat in a parking lot overlooking Yosemite Falls, admiring the beauty in silence. In this moment of in-between stillness, what was buried in our subconscious started to arise.

Coincidentally enough, the day we went to Yosemite was the anniversary of her dad's passing. In this moment of pause, she channeled her grief into a poem filled with memories of joy and expressing her agony of what was no longer here. It offered her the space to feel the depths of despair and let it flow through her like the wind.

While sitting in silence, the stillness gently eased my buried truth to come out to be processed and healed. Still uncomfortable, I let it come out and told my skydiving horror story.

My friend helped me acknowledge the severity of what I was saying and offered a safe space to express as I shakily processed an ugly past that was begging to be healed in the serenity of Yosemite Falls. And it was the first time I admitted that I felt like I might die while it was happening.

Later, on my solo drive home from Northern to Southern California, emotions flooded me. I felt in my gut the guidance to get into nature. Almost immediately, I pulled over, searched what was near me, and just like that, I was on my way to Sequoia National Park. No plan, or actual knowledge of the park, I entered the unknown with spotty service.

Driving through the park, I was blown away by the beauty, and truly didn’t know where I was going, but when I landed on a large parking lot, I felt like this was my chance to hike. So, I chose a random trail that didn’t look too long among all the famous redwoods and there I went.

I was led to Moro Rock, which I truly had no idea what it was until witnessing it at that moment. I was blown away by the stone staircase built into this large granite rock with steeping drops on all sides. I felt like stepping on this rock was creating safety within myself again. Each step as I saw thousands of feet below me, I thought of those moments of struggle and fighting for my life.

I was in awe of the beauty surrounding me while also rebuilding my inner strength, creating trust within myself and my ability to stand alone, be brave, and conquer my fears.

I mourned that I was not surrounded by the right people when the trauma happened; I was surrounded by people who weren't there to support me or help me when I needed it most. This forced me to give it all to myself and use nature as my source to connect back to all the hidden, buried truths.

This journey was a catapult for me to dive deeper. Deeper into who I am, heal my past, who I want to show up as in my present, and what type of future I want to create for myself.