I’m not a competitive swimmer or diver, but my kids are team swimmers. The rigor and athleticism of their weekly practices are a far cry from the pool days of my childhood. I grew up walking down my gravel lane in rubber flip-flops after a latch-key lunch, waiting until no cars were coming from either direction to cross the single-lane highway. Then walking up the 7th fairway of the country golf course, across the parking lot, and checking in at the pool. It was a shallow end to deep end affair, with ladders and a diving board. No zero-entrance kiddy pool with fountains spouting water or tiki bar on deck type stuff. Just a 3-foot to 10-foot pool. I was a fish of a swimmer, so I could swim in the deep end alone, but after a few hours, the lifeguards would make me take a break. Sometimes I would roll up in my towel and sleep against the cinder block wall for a while, then go back at it.

The diving board at this pool was a long springboard. I would fearlessly dive, front flip, back dive, and when the guards weren’t looking cartwheel off the board. I am hypermobile so when I did back dives I scared the crap out of the guards by bending so far back I almost hit my head on the board. The best part was that I wasn’t afraid. It was about adventure and exploring what I could do. If you belly-flopped or a flip landed wrong and your back smacked flat into the water, you got to the side, shed a few tears, and did it again. Failure was just part of the process.

As a Gen X woman, in the last decade, I wrapped up all the things I was “supposed” to do. On the other side of the social checklist, I find myself back at the diving board of life. The things I’m interested in are available to me and the lesson of those hot summer afternoons rings true. I’m rewarded when I stop trying to control things and just jump in. I showed up one chilly morning to meet a bunch of brave and curious women from TikTok and found a whole movement of people seeking connection. I talked about my novel in progress and met someone who shared insider tips about finding an agent. As a meditation novice, I joined the mailing list for the Zen meditation center, and right when I needed it received an email for a free, accessible, and incredibly relevant series of meetings.

This isn’t about finding courage. Courage is for scary things. Courage is for survival. I don’t want to survive. I want to thrive. I’m leaning into my sense of wonder. Every time I pause and check in with myself to see what feels like the right next thing, I am rewarded by the outcome. Each time I jump off the high dive of adult social norms, I am rewarded with a new experience, friend, or perspective. So I’m here to tell you, don’t just take the plunge. Trust the plunge.