Afterthought (LJI7 Week 5)
They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. As the ground rushed towards me after I'd jumped off the tall building, all I could think was "what a beautiful view..."
It all started five years previously when I first arrived in New Zealand. My husband pointed out the Sky Tower to me as he was taking me on a tour of Auckland and said that he'd pay for me to do the Skyjump on my birthday. "Great!" I smiled, full of the appropriate gratitude a wife should have for a husband thoughtful enough to give her the gift of certain doom. It made sense that he'd offer. I love rollercoasters and this was the ultimate in thrill seeking. There was one little fly in the ointment, however. I'm terrified of heights and although I can handle the highs of a car travelling up a track, it's only with my eyes tightly closed. The thought of voluntarily jumping from a tower almost 200 metres tall made my insides tie themselves in knots. I didn't want to say that though, because he was so clearly excited at the prospect of giving me something uniquely special and I didn't want to destroy his image of me as the fun loving, adventurous, nothing-can-stop me type.
Fortunately for me, I got pregnant almost immediately upon arriving Down Under, so couldn't do the jump, what with the baby being due five days before my birthday. And then I was breastfeeding and couldn't risk leaving the baby without food. And then I got pregnant again. And then I was breastfeeding again. And then I got pregnant again...
Although it was the perfect excuse to avoid chickening out, clearly I couldn't continue getting pregnant just to avoid the Skyjump and when I made the decision to leave New Zealand, I realised that since I'd seen so little of the country in the five years I'd lived there, I wanted to experience something peculiarly kiwi before I left. An 8 week old baby severely limited my options, so there was nothing for it. I was going to hold my husband to his promise to front up the cash.
The web site reassured me. A little. Very low real risk with a perceived very high risk. It was that perception that was the problem though. To all intents and purposes, I was going to do something that would lead to certain death. How on earth was I going to convince my Inner Self that this was a Good Thing?
That was the question I was asking myself when I was standing on the metal platform, clinging to the side as they checked my harness one final time. I'd edged out, eyes tightly shut. It was a gloriously sunny day, the first after months of rain, and the views when I briefly opened my eyes for a split second were outstanding, but all I could think about was that there was nothing between me and open air and although intellectually I knew there was a secure rope holding me safe, it was out of sight behind me and I felt as if I were falling already, my mind playing tricks on me to tempt me back inside. Inside to safety. Inside to my baby.
Inside to where I'd have to admit that I was a complete and utter failure and something as simple as a little step into oblivion had defeated me.
The men working the jump were all wonderfully friendly and supportive. They explained that they'd count me down from three to one at which point I'd jump. They could also see that I was extremely nervous. Terrified, in fact, and gently talked me through every step until I was standing at the edge of the abyss, leaning forward as only my hands holding onto the sides kept me safe.
3...2...1
The countdown was quick. Too quick. No time to psych myself up and prepare my body for launch. I didn't jump. I was going to go back inside. I could hear the man beside me thinking that he was going to have to pry my white knuckled fingers from the rope to help me back in, because there was no way I was moving anywhere.
And then I was air borne.
Once I was safely on the ground and buzzing from the adrenaline rush, I had no idea how I'd managed to take that final step. They won't push you off. You have to decide for yourself to jump or not jump. Looking back, I have a blank spot in my memory from when that decision was made, a thought process I will never be able to understand because it's been erased to protect myself from realising just how insane I was in that moment. But I didn't care because that eleven seconds I was falling for had been the most amazing eleven seconds of my life. In fact, I'd cheated and got a little extra time because after you jump, they stop you about a metre down so you can look back and have your photo taken suspended over Auckland. I was so stunned that I'd actually managed to do it and so pleased with myself, that I was spellbound by the sights around me. Caught up with looking at all the wonders before me, seen from an angle I'd never dreamed I'd be at, I didn't hear them calling my name to get me to look up and when I did, I was dazzled by the sun, so instantly looked away again and it took a few tries before they got a shot they were happy with. As soon as they did, they released me and I was off back down to earth.
The buildings, the mountains, the ground, the roads, everything became a beautiful blur as I clung tightly to my harness and sped down. To my surprise, my eyes were wide open, eagerly taking in everything around me, attempting to cram in as much as they could in the little time I had before it would all be over.
And then over it was and I'd survived. Thinking about it now, I wish I had spread my arms out and done my best Daedalus impression but in my heart of hearts, I know that first time around, it's enough that I was able to make the jump.
But next time, oh yes, next time...
I am blessed with good friends who took this footage of me and kept the camera going to capture what I was like, still hyper and excited after the jump. So many great memories kept in this short piece of film.
It all started five years previously when I first arrived in New Zealand. My husband pointed out the Sky Tower to me as he was taking me on a tour of Auckland and said that he'd pay for me to do the Skyjump on my birthday. "Great!" I smiled, full of the appropriate gratitude a wife should have for a husband thoughtful enough to give her the gift of certain doom. It made sense that he'd offer. I love rollercoasters and this was the ultimate in thrill seeking. There was one little fly in the ointment, however. I'm terrified of heights and although I can handle the highs of a car travelling up a track, it's only with my eyes tightly closed. The thought of voluntarily jumping from a tower almost 200 metres tall made my insides tie themselves in knots. I didn't want to say that though, because he was so clearly excited at the prospect of giving me something uniquely special and I didn't want to destroy his image of me as the fun loving, adventurous, nothing-can-stop me type.
Fortunately for me, I got pregnant almost immediately upon arriving Down Under, so couldn't do the jump, what with the baby being due five days before my birthday. And then I was breastfeeding and couldn't risk leaving the baby without food. And then I got pregnant again. And then I was breastfeeding again. And then I got pregnant again...
Although it was the perfect excuse to avoid chickening out, clearly I couldn't continue getting pregnant just to avoid the Skyjump and when I made the decision to leave New Zealand, I realised that since I'd seen so little of the country in the five years I'd lived there, I wanted to experience something peculiarly kiwi before I left. An 8 week old baby severely limited my options, so there was nothing for it. I was going to hold my husband to his promise to front up the cash.
The web site reassured me. A little. Very low real risk with a perceived very high risk. It was that perception that was the problem though. To all intents and purposes, I was going to do something that would lead to certain death. How on earth was I going to convince my Inner Self that this was a Good Thing?
That was the question I was asking myself when I was standing on the metal platform, clinging to the side as they checked my harness one final time. I'd edged out, eyes tightly shut. It was a gloriously sunny day, the first after months of rain, and the views when I briefly opened my eyes for a split second were outstanding, but all I could think about was that there was nothing between me and open air and although intellectually I knew there was a secure rope holding me safe, it was out of sight behind me and I felt as if I were falling already, my mind playing tricks on me to tempt me back inside. Inside to safety. Inside to my baby.
Inside to where I'd have to admit that I was a complete and utter failure and something as simple as a little step into oblivion had defeated me.
The men working the jump were all wonderfully friendly and supportive. They explained that they'd count me down from three to one at which point I'd jump. They could also see that I was extremely nervous. Terrified, in fact, and gently talked me through every step until I was standing at the edge of the abyss, leaning forward as only my hands holding onto the sides kept me safe.
3...2...1
The countdown was quick. Too quick. No time to psych myself up and prepare my body for launch. I didn't jump. I was going to go back inside. I could hear the man beside me thinking that he was going to have to pry my white knuckled fingers from the rope to help me back in, because there was no way I was moving anywhere.
And then I was air borne.
Once I was safely on the ground and buzzing from the adrenaline rush, I had no idea how I'd managed to take that final step. They won't push you off. You have to decide for yourself to jump or not jump. Looking back, I have a blank spot in my memory from when that decision was made, a thought process I will never be able to understand because it's been erased to protect myself from realising just how insane I was in that moment. But I didn't care because that eleven seconds I was falling for had been the most amazing eleven seconds of my life. In fact, I'd cheated and got a little extra time because after you jump, they stop you about a metre down so you can look back and have your photo taken suspended over Auckland. I was so stunned that I'd actually managed to do it and so pleased with myself, that I was spellbound by the sights around me. Caught up with looking at all the wonders before me, seen from an angle I'd never dreamed I'd be at, I didn't hear them calling my name to get me to look up and when I did, I was dazzled by the sun, so instantly looked away again and it took a few tries before they got a shot they were happy with. As soon as they did, they released me and I was off back down to earth.
The buildings, the mountains, the ground, the roads, everything became a beautiful blur as I clung tightly to my harness and sped down. To my surprise, my eyes were wide open, eagerly taking in everything around me, attempting to cram in as much as they could in the little time I had before it would all be over.
And then over it was and I'd survived. Thinking about it now, I wish I had spread my arms out and done my best Daedalus impression but in my heart of hearts, I know that first time around, it's enough that I was able to make the jump.
But next time, oh yes, next time...
Click to viewI am blessed with good friends who took this footage of me and kept the camera going to capture what I was like, still hyper and excited after the jump. So many great memories kept in this short piece of film.