“Why jump out of a perfectly good airplane?” I often hear after people say after discovering that I’m an avid skydiver.
I often result to the easy, sarcastic answer “Why not?”, but the truth is that skydiving is more than just jumping out of a plane – it’s a sensual, instinctual experience that is unparalleled – it’s the ultimate stress test.
When you’re free-falling, you have to remain calm under pressures, maintain your ‘military mindset’ or clarity of thought and procedure, and, most importantly, you have to remember to pull your parachute at the right altitude. Skydiving requires a keen sense of attention, and a focus that can mean the difference between life and death. The rush as your feet step out of the plane, the sense of serenity when your parachute fully deploys, and the sense of accomplishment as your feet return back to the earth is magical, almost spiritual; certainly one of the best experiences life has to offer.
I began my skydiving journey doing a tandem (where you’re secured to an instructor) in April of 2013, at 20 years old. I had been planning this since I was a child – promises of jumping out of an airplane when I turned the legal age to do so, 18, were a common topic of discussion in my home. My mother, thinking my 18th birthday was lightyears away, accepted and even agreed to jump with me. Fast forward to 2011, my 18th birthday, she recanted her decision, as any mother would and I went without making the leap for another two years. But in April 2013, “Mom, I’m going to Auburn to celebrate my birthday” became the key words for “Mom, I’m sneaking off to jump out of an airplane.” My decision to not tell her prior seemed to work out well, as she much preferred to know that I was back safely on the ground (but I was still in deep trouble).
From the first tandem, I fell in love.
In love with the rush in free-fall, the calm under canopy, the serenity provided when all you have to worry about is making it back to the ground safely. As with many things in my life, I was addicted. After school let out, I immediately started AFF –accelerated free-fall school. Many hours of on the ground work, nine AFF jumps – two failed levels, and a significant amount of faith later, I got my solo skydiving certification in July of 2014.
I continued to jump regularly, joined the Georgia Tech Sport Parachute Club, and even fell in love with another skydiver. I was the happiest I’d ever been. I thought I was a force to be reckoned with. I had everything at my fingertips. I was well liked at my home drop-zone, Skydive Atlanta, and I found a home and a family there.
And then, I lost it all. In my previous article, I explained what happened when a life of addiction finally came to rear its ugly head. The truth is, my skydiving family knew I was an addict/alcoholic before I did. I drank almost every night I was at the drop-zone. The last jump of the day became my sign that it was time to party. And I partied hard. I could drink some men under the table – that is, until I blackout out and woke up in my own vomit. And still, I would get up hungover as hell, vomit until my stomach felt OK, chug a few red bulls, and manifest for the first jump of the day. And so the cycle went, ad nauseam, until the weekend was over and I had to return back to school.
Pretty early on, I began seeing consequences of my actions – my boyfriend at the time was concerned as well as other jumpers, I had gotten in some trouble with the Sport Parachute Club, and I had built quite the reputation as 'the drunk’ or ‘that girl’. However, I was either too oblivious to acknowledge my dangerous drinking habits or my pride was too big to admit I had a problem. While the former allowed me to stay in denial for a year, the latter is what kept me in trouble even after I was presented with enough evidence to suggest I definitely had a problem.
My whole world came crashing down in April 2015. After returning from a study abroad, my drinking had progressed even further and everyone in my life was growing tired of dealing with me. On the eve of my birthday in 2015, I chose a drink over the man I thought was the love of my life. I tried to take it back the next morning, as I had done so often after drunken remarks the night before. He was tired, and I don’t blame him. In fact, I don’t know how he put up with me for so long under these circumstances. I was a bad girlfriend, a bad friend, a bad teammate, a bad daughter, but a very good drunk. Devastated at losing him, I decided after a night of very clear, drunken thinking, to abandon everything. My usual morning ritual of red bulls was replaced with packs of Bud Light and my usual Ibuprofen hangover remedy was replaced with 30mg of Maxalt. What did I have to care about anymore? I had lost the most important thing in my life, and now all I had was myself and my addiction left.
I still manifested for the first jump of the day – then the third, then the fifth. Everything seemed to go according to plan, no one seemed to notice, or so I thought. So, I kept drinking, and drinking, and drinking – thinking I was clever hiding the cans in the women’s restroom. I manifested for the seventh jump of the day. I was stumbling, my speech was slurred, but I was able to fool everyone around me. I got on the plane, planned my jump, and prepared for exit. As the signal turned green, I exited the plane. Suddenly, my mind was lost. I was in a world of my own and where I was supposed to pull my parachute at 4000ft, I neglected to pull until 1300ft. The result was extremely dangerous, I remember waking up under canopy and seeing nothing but trees surrounding me. This is bad, this is really, really bad I said to myself. I began to cry as I knew my fate was not good. I carefully looked with my sudden awareness and found a patch of the smallest trees I could find. I was preparing for the worst – back damage, paralysis, death.
Something, someone saved me that day. I landed in the smallest tree out of that forest, and walked away, just terrified and with scratches all over my body. Then the fallout came – members of the drop zone rushed to my aid and helped grab the parachute down from the trees. Moments later, I was escorted into the drop zone manager’s office. I was kicked out of Skydive Atlanta – banned until further notice. I was also kicked off of the Georgia Tech Sport Parachute Club, and my name had become a joke in the Georgia skydiving community.
And yet, I still didn’t believe it was my fault. They were punishing me, they were the ones who wronged me. ‘I’ll show them’ became just another excuse to abuse myself and drink more to forget what I had done. I was angry at the drop zone owner, angry at the staff, angry at the sport parachute club. My resentments were building, and fueling a dangerous fire inside.
I would like to say I got sober after that. I did, for a while, but it was forced. It has taken me three more tries, but today, I am sober. And today, I am realizing that where I had anger for my former jumping buddies, the DZO, Skydive Atlanta, Georgia Tech SPC and my ex, I should have gratitude. They cared; they were not afraid to let me know that I might need help. Some even tried to take me to meetings, some shared their own experiences, but at the time I refused to listen.
Today, I am grateful for everyone who was in my life at that time. If it weren’t for me getting kicked out of Skydive Atlanta, getting kicked off the Georgia Tech team, and losing my most important relationship, I may have never chosen to get sober. I needed these consequences to show me I was an alcoholic. I needed a rude awakening to get myself out of my stubborn, pompous ways. Everyone at Skydive Atlanta saved my life, whether they know it or not.
To this day, I still skydive – sober, of course. I have 98 jumps and I am hoping to reach my 100th at Skydive Perris very soon. Skydiving today is therapeutic for me; it calms me and reminds me to appreciate the small things, appreciate truly living. Skydiving sober has been so rewarding, and if I do say, is much better than skydiving under the influence. You get to appreciate the real beauty, the full effect of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.
I am still in touch with many of my skydiving family at Skydive Atlanta. The skydiving community has been beyond supportive and caring and for that, I cannot thank them enough. While I am still currently banned from Skydive Atlanta, I am more motivated than ever to stay sober and to earn my way back to my home DZ. I cannot thank SDA’s DZO enough, as his kind words and faith in this process have truly helped me stay sober.
I know that one day I’ll find my way back home.
