People think I'm crazy for skydiving, but they don't know the real reason.

On my birthday, I crave the thrill of adrenaline.

September 1st 2024.

People think I'm crazy for skydiving, but they don't know the real reason.
I will never forget the exhilarating feeling of G-force rushing through my body as I co-flew an ex-military plane, just like in the famous movie Top Gun. The plane was attached to a crane, and I climbed in beside the instructor, excited but also a little nervous. As we were lifted into the sky, I made sure to give my harness a reassuring tug. Looking over the side, I couldn't help but feel like I was a tiny ant in comparison to the world below. And then, suddenly, we stopped 160 feet up in the air.

Before I could even process what was happening, my instructor opened the cage door and wished me a happy birthday. With a rush of adrenaline, I heard him yell "Three, two, one...bungee!" and I leaped out of the plane, free-falling for five seconds before the pulley brought me back up. It was an incredible feeling, my body dropping while my spirits soared.

As I yo-yoed up and down, I couldn't help but think to myself, "Not a bad way to turn 35." Although some may see this as a reckless and dangerous way to celebrate a birthday, for me, it was a symbol of freedom and adventure. And on my birthday, those things felt more important than ever.

You see, for the past few years, I have spent my birthdays in mental health hospitals, where fresh air was a luxury and life felt like being trapped in a cage. But now, each year, I make it a point to do something that gives me that rush of adrenaline. Last year, I jumped out of a plane at 10,000ft, and the year before that, I experienced the true meaning of G-force while flying in an ex-military plane.

Those experiences were not driven by some morbid desire for danger, but rather a deep longing for life and freedom that I had been missing while battling my mental health. Being in those hospitals felt like being caged, but now, I choose to jump out of them.

It took me until I was 29 to admit that I needed help. I had been consumed by an eating disorder for years, and despite the support from my medical team and family, I couldn't recover on my own. That's when I made the decision to enter a mental health facility a few days before my 29th birthday. Initially, I was told that I could leave freely within a few weeks, but I quickly learned that things were not that simple once I was behind closed doors.

For a month, I was confined to the facility, not allowed to go outside for fresh air or have visitors. I ate my meals and snacks alone, under the watchful eye of a nurse who shushed me every time I tried to make conversation. There were some therapy and activity groups, but for the most part, it was a lot of sitting around, interrupted only by medical tests and weigh-ins.

As I celebrated my birthday in that hospital, I promised myself that I would never hit rock bottom like this again. But unfortunately, life doesn't always go as planned, and I found myself back in the grips of my eating disorder after being discharged. With my next birthday approaching, I was once again told that I had no choice but to be hospitalized. It was a moment of shame, anger, and despair.

My 30th birthday was just as bleak as you would imagine. I woke up alone, locked up, and subjected to various medical tests. However, having already been in the hospital for almost a month, I was allowed a few hours outside and even had a meal out with my family. But even with those small freedoms, I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped.

Despite my brief taste of freedom, I went to bed that night feeling lost and hopeless. I promised myself that this time, it would be different. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I wouldn't waste another minute before taking control of my life.

That's when I discovered the power of taking big leaps, both physically and figuratively. These adrenaline-fueled stunts have become an annual tradition for me, a way to celebrate the gift of aging in a healthy body. And while some may think I'm crazy, I know what it's like to be a prisoner to a disease that consumes you. So now, I choose to celebrate my freedom with velocity, adrenaline, and fresh air.

For anyone who may be struggling with their own battles, I want you to know that there is hope. Choosing recovery and taking a big leap is the best way to start. As for me, I'm already thinking about what I will do next year. Any suggestions are welcome.

Do you have a story you'd like to share? I would love to hear it. Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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