Skydive for Mental Health UK
6am, Saturday the 8th of January.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
It was my alarm clock. I had to be at Strathallan airfield for 9am sharp for my Skydive safety briefing with Skydive Strathallan.
Raising Money for Mental Health UK
I was raising money for a charity, Mental Health UK, a cause close to my heart. I believe that the single most important thing we can do for ourselves is look after our mental health.
There is nothing scarier than that all-consuming, sinking feeling you get when depression creeps back into your life. The fear it brings can be paralysing and stop so many of us us from seeking help.
This would be my second attempt to Skydive after previously spending 7 torturous hours in my car waiting for the sky to clear in October. It was such a confusing feeling, desperately waiting to be called up for something you’re terrified of doing.
My own mental health was not in a good place after the 7 hours wait the last time, I knew that much. But I was on a mission: to overcome my fear of the Skydive to inspire others to overcome their fears too.
“This is never going to happen”
I dragged myself out of bed and reluctantly drove to the airfield. The air was so misty I could barely see anything in front of me and it was pouring with rain. ‘This Skydive is never going to happen,’ I thought. ‘Here’s to another 7 hours in the car before I inevitably re-schedule for summer’.
Then, at 1pm, a miracle happened.
The clouds parted and next thing I knew I was boarding a TINY plane.
I was wearing an orange and purple dive suit with all my clothes, including my coat still on underneath. It was going to be minus 8 up there. I also had a weird stripy hat thing that gave me an alien-shaped head.
The engine growled
Four of us squeezed into a tiny blue plane that had no seats, no seatbelts, and no doors! My instructor sat on the edge, I sat between his legs (no social distancing here), he clipped me onto his harness and bum-shuffled us to the corner of the plane. Two others squeezed in, and the engine growled as we rumbled along the grass runway.
I looked at the sky as the plane circled upwards staring at the clouds, looking at the snow lying on the tops of the hills and the brightness from the sun while we spun around and around. I could feel the rise and fall of my instructor’s chest as he breathed calmly. I mirrored his rhythm, it felt so peaceful there.
Maybe I was calm, or maybe I was perfectly demonstrating the freeze response.
30 second free-fall
Before I knew it, the others had disappeared, and I was falling out of a perfectly functioning aircraft at 10000 feet.
I don’t remember much about the 30 second free-fall. Neither do I remember being scared, it was just happening, and I was thinking, ‘Wow this is crazy!’ I guess the feeling of falling (knowing that the parachute was opening!) was somewhat liberating, but I think I’d already gone into a state of shock.
The parachute opened, slowing us down from our velocity towards the ground at 120mph. I could see the view, but I didn’t care about it. I was breathing in and out faster than the air could get into my lungs, and I was starting to see stars like the ones you see before you faint. Every time the parachute turned it was like a never-ending feeling, the same as a vertical dip on a rollercoaster when your stomach feels like it jumps into your mouth.
I started to feel like I might be sick.
I had always thought the parachute was going to be the fun part! But it seemed to go on forever. All I could feel were shock waves running through my body, one that made me feel sick, one that made me see stars then one that reminded me to try and breathe. Again. And again. And again.
I just wanted it to be over. But as I looked across the hills far below, I remembered why I was there: to inspire others to overcome their fears.
Coming into land, all I was thinking about was lifting my legs for when we reached the ground. In training I had to say on video “My name is Samantha and I understand the importance of lifting my legs for landing.” I can’t even touch my toes, so it was a real worry! ‘I need my legs for running,’ I thought as the grass rushed towards us. I do a lot of running. I’m training for my 10th marathon and my lunchtime runs are as good as therapy.
We landed so gently, like a feather floating to the ground.
My legs were in one piece, but my mind wasn’t. Lying on the grass in a daze looking at the sky, I didn’t know what had just happened, I was feeling sick and wasn’t sure how I would stand up.
“There, you can breathe” my instructor Calum said calmly. “Anything you want to say?”
My breathing was still out of control. “Sorry” was the only word I could muster.
Calum laughed kindly, saying “You’ve done really well.”
“That was terrifying, “I spluttered as he cheerfully sang to me “Say goodbye to the camera.”
“Bye camera,” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath, as the words “I’m still alive thank God” tumbled out of my mouth.
My instructor unclipped me and I defied gravity, wobbling to my feet. He kindly put his hand out to help steady me as I picked up the small white parachute and we walked back over to the warehouse.
We passed one of the other staff who asked curiously: “Have fun?”
“Yeah, I think so, I mean, I don’t know” I said, barely able to string that sentence together.
“Let me know when you’ve made your mind up”, he chuckled.
48 hours later and it’s still replaying in my head over and over.
I’ve made my mind up. I won’t be doing it again; but I think you should.
I feel liberated, weightless even, like I was in the 30 second free fall of the Skydive. This experience will forever be an anchor I can pull whenever I experience fear and I’ll carry the memories from this jump with me forever.
The courage it has given me will last a lifetime.
If you would like to donate to a worthy cause, please use my just giving page here: Samantha Leeman is fundraising for Mental Health UK (justgiving.com)
