I felt the ground tremble as a red roller coaster streaked past me, quickly and noisily racing over the metal tracks. I could hear the screams of riders, first loudly and then fading into the distance, as the coaster went around each hill and loop. It was loud, monstrously tall and intricate, and it even went upside down. And, my little sister, two-and-a-half years younger than me and in the third grade at the time, was one of the passengers. I was anxiously awaiting her return to my spot safely on the ground.
When she got back, she told me it was really fun and that the upside down parts weren’t that bad. I was beyond impressed that she had really done it, so even though my legs were shaking, I knew I would ultimately follow her to the line for the coaster. By the time we reached the end of the line, I was clammy and stressed but, strapped in with nowhere to go, I had accepted my fate. As we climbed the colossal hill at what felt like an agonizingly slow pace, I clutched the handlebars of the seats until my knuckles turned white. The roller coaster had a feature where each rider could pick a song. We picked “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor, and singing the words out loud turned out to be a very valuable affirmation.
After the first ride, in which I froze at every drop and held my breath at every loop-the-loop while my sister looked pleasantly entertained, my sister and I rode that roller coaster more times than I can recall. Although my stomach dropped at every dip in the track, we laughed and sang, facing my fears together.
***
When I was in eighth grade and my sister was in sixth grade, my family went to Belize. My sister and I were going to learn to scuba dive. We took the online courses to get certified. Our first dive was pretty manageable, shallow and I could easily come to the surface of the water if I needed to. The next dive, though, I panicked and the instructor had to hold my hand. Underwater, my sister looked over at me, and I could tell that she was completely relaxed. When we compared oxygen levels at the end of each of our dives, mine was always much more depleted, a sign that I had been breathing hard — probably due to my anxiety.
***
I have always been thoroughly impressed, and sometimes stupefied, by my sister’s fearlessness during these kinds of activities. While my brain understandably panics whenever I’m far away from the ground or about to be shot up into the air, my sister eagerly gets in line. Even though my sister and I share many qualities, we gravitate towards different activities when traveling. For example, I love going to museums, which I know would be much lower on my sister’s bucket list as compared to riding roller coasters.
Now, I’m going into my junior year of college and my sister is a freshman. My sister and I have been very fortunate to have been born into a family with the desire and financial ability to travel so frequently. Although we still travel as a family, my sister and I have started to travel independently, too. This upcoming Winter Break, my sister and her friend have plans to go skydiving — an adventure they have been planning for years. This time, my sister won’t be trying to persuade me to go with her; she has a friend who loves these kinds of adrenaline-seeking activities. This will be my sister’s own red, upside-down roller coaster to ride, and she probably won’t be half as scared as I was back then.
When my sister told me about her plans to skydive, I suddenly felt stressed out that I also did not have these plans lined up. As a child, I had always been consumed with the idea of skydiving and assumed I would eventually conquer the feat, especially since both my parents had been skydiving in New Zealand in their 20s. My mom would tell me how she did not feel like she could physically jump out of the plane when she looked out if not for the fact she was attached to an instructor.
As a child, I would try to imagine facing that kind of fear. Whenever we would fly in a commercial airplane, I would press my forehead against the oval window and look to the miniature ground below, trying to imagine the airplane floor opening up from beneath me and then … I couldn’t — and still can’t — even imagine how falling so far might feel.
Now, my sister is a few months from having completed her skydiving experience and ticking off the ultimate bucket list item. She is going to get a whole new vantage of the world and come back as a person who has really done everything that this life has.
And I, without any semblance of skydiving plans in my future, am slowly creeping closer to a skydivingless life. I am worried that this simply is not the kind of life I want to live.
Even though I had always imagined fulfilling the skydiving “requirement,” I have never been able to conjure a genuine will to skydive, besides my desire to be able to tell others I had done it. If I were to skydive, I can imagine losing sleep for several nights in a row at the prospect. I can imagine my vision going blurry and the knot in my stomach getting tighter and tighter while the date got closer and closer. I can imagine that after all this, I probably would experience a few moments of wonder and amazement once the falling slowed and the parachute extended. I’m sure it’s amazing to feel like you’re flying above the world.
While I semi-understand the appeal of skydiving, I have absolutely no desire to go skydiving, and I know that. Still, I have this intense fear that I will somehow “live” less than my sister and parents if I do not go skydiving.
Of course, I might. After all, you only live once! As a human who has the physical and financial privilege to jump off a plane with a parachute, is it wrong for me not to take the opportunity?
At the same time, what makes skydiving such a universally life-fulfilling experience? Are lives only well-lived when they are filled with mentally or physically strenuous activities?
Over the past few years of my media consumption on Instagram Reels and TikTok, I have watched many TikToks with dramatic voice-overs proclaiming “you only live once, cherish it” or some breathy variation of that audio over a compilation of travel videos. Oftentimes, skydiving, ziplining or other adventurous activities are included in the compilation or come up as their own TikToks. Whenever these reminders to live life to the fullest come up on my feed, they instill a deep sense of panic. I should sign up to go skydiving. I should take off and travel solo for a year. I should backpack across Europe. I should definitely study abroad.
After some reflection, however, I don’t think my life decisions should be based on the concept that we only live once. This reminder puts an unhealthy pressure and stress on my life experiences. I agree: It’s important to remember to seek out happiness. But this could look different for everyone.
I’ve noticed that there is a general human tendency to equate checking off boxes with living life to the fullest — completing all sorts of activities for external validation rather than for our own personal fulfillment. Instead of feeling like the quality of my life is defined by bucket lists, I am determined to move towards activities I naturally enjoy.
At the end of the day, I simply don’t want to go skydiving. Although I’m ultimately grateful my sister pushed me out of my comfort zone when we were younger, I know my limits, and I know myself. Instead, I would rather spend my time at a concert or an art museum, or even just walking around a new city. Maybe I won’t experience the transcendental superhuman experience of skydiving, but I will be making choices that bring me genuine happiness.
I am also trying to become comfortable with the fact that life doesn’t always have to be lived to the fullest, whatever that means. There are days in which I may not be traversing the earth, and instead will be watching videos of others “living their best lives” from the comfort of my couch. Living, and traveling, become stressful when we feel pressured to do everything before we run out of time.
So yes, we only live once, and life is short. Personally, I am going to try to find peace in my most quiet moments, even when I am on my phone and on the couch, and in my most exciting moments, even if those moments don’t involve jumping off airplanes. I am happy for my sister and her plan to go skydiving, and I will always be waiting for her return to my spot safely on the ground.
Statement Correspondent Yael Atzmon can be reached at yatzmon@umich.edu