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As I stood at the base of the rollercoaster in my favorite jams, the ones with the colorful stamps on them, and shoes with the backs I crushed and walked around on till they were smooth, I tried to be cool. For the first time in my life, I was going on a rollercoaster. In theory it sounded like a good idea.

“We need to sit up in the first car. It’ll be crazy,” said my cousin, the excitement barely contained in her voice.

I was fourteen trying to look like I was taking it all in stride. Arms crossed, leaning back on one leg, everything about me said I was chill, relaxed, almost bored with the whole concept. My cousin was more than fifteen years older than me but she was cool with unbelievably long hair (think Crystal Gale but hip) and platform sandals she could barely walk in.

“I can do it, I can do it,” I chanted to myself.

However looking up at the coaster with its numerous twists and turns, I wasn’t so sure. As we made our way up to the platform, I prayed to Jesus, Mary and any and all Saints whose names I had ever heard to make sure that someone else beat us to that front car. Apparently, the prayer hotlines were jammed because my call never made it through.

“Score, come on,” she said, jumping into the front car and tapping the empty space beside her. 

I took this opportunity to celebrate the fact that my Dad was with us.

“Uh, no you know I think I should sit with my Dad or he’ll be freaked out,” I said, nodding in his direction.

Quickly, I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the second car with me.  

“I can do this. I can do this.”

I was practically screaming in my own head. When we were all properly bound into our seats, a bell sounded and we lurched forward.

 “I can do this, I can do this.”

There was the sound of the clinking of metal as we slowly began our ascent. From this angle it was clear that this rollercoaster was much, much higher than I’d anticipated.

“I can do this, I can do this.”

 Something inside snapped. I was certain I was going to vomit and yet at the same time I wanted to dance.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said, turning to my Dad.

“It’ll be fun.”

“No seriously, I want to get off. I changed my mind.”  

I was holding tight to my last bits of sanity. I didn’t understand. How could we not stop this thing? It was a ride, a game and I didn’t want to play. It was that simple. We climbed higher. My cousin turned around, waved and screamed with excitement.

“No, Dad seriously,” I was trying to whisper. Despite the noise of the rollercoaster, I was worried my cousin would hear me. “If you ask them to stop the ride I will just jump off. It’ll be so quick no one will even notice. I can still jump to the ground from here.”

“I’m sorry but we can’t stop the ride.”

“Please just yell to them. Tell them you’ll pay them. Tell them I’ll give their money back,” I pleaded, as tears sat poised at the edges of my eyes.

I would have sold him to the staff for the right price. I would have offered to have my Dad and my cousin work in the kitchen in the theme park cafeteria just so long as I could get off this ride. I no longer cared whether or not I was cool. I just didn’t want to die and I thought surely I would if I went through with this.

My Dad grabbed my hand and said, “It’ll be ok.”

We reached the top and then dropped. Just as I thought we would be smashed into the Earth, we were yanked this way and that through loops and turns. My cheeks felt as though they had been pulled back and tucked behind my ears. I could not think. I saw Earth, then sky, then Earth again. I closed my eyes to feel the sensations. My mouth was open but I am almost positive there was no sound coming out.

Then suddenly it was over. As we came to a halt I realized I’d let go of my Dad’s hand somewhere amid all the whirling. The two exited their seats and stood on the platform. I just sat there.

“That was awesome. I want to go again.” As I said it, I was stunned to hear my own voice; excitement and nausea bubbled through my body.

I invite you to stare down a particularly daunting part of your creative project or face a project that you haven’t started out of fear for what might happen. Ask a friend to be present as you begin to tackle it and tell them you may need to have your hand held or your butt kicked, you never know what you’ll need till you start, but either way, face it down. Whatever lies on the other side of that project is better than the fear holding you back from making a leap.

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