Doing the Scary Thing (Even When You’d Rather Be Lounging in the Sun)

It’s summer. Time for fun, sun, maybe a little patio hopping, and if we’re being honest, a bit of gentle avoidance too. And hey, no judgment. I’ve been known to delay a hard decision in favour of an iced coffee and a book more than once.

But here’s a thought I can’t seem to shake lately: What if it’s not just summer? What if we’re avoiding change all year round, until we have to face it?

Now, I’m not coming at this from some motivational high horse. I’m the first to admit I do not jump headfirst into big change on the regular. The moments where I’ve leapt into the unknown? Yeah... they’re few and far between. But the wild thing is, every time I have done the scary thing, it’s paid off in some way. Sometimes in big, flashy, “look what I accomplished” kind of ways. Other times, it’s quieter, just me realizing I’m stronger or braver than I gave myself credit for.

Let me take you back a few years, pre-pandemic. A girlfriend and I were on an overnight trip to Horseshoe Valley Resort. We had our wine, our snacks, our fuzzy socks—living our best mid-30s mom getaway life.

And then, ziplining came up.

Now let me just say, I am not a heights girl. I am a "feet-on-the-ground, thank-you-very-much" kind of person. But something in me thought, “If not now, when?” You know that weird voice that pops up sometimes and convinces you to do brave things even though your brain is like, “Nope!”

So up we went on the chairlift, also a first for me, by the way, and I did my best to enjoy the view and not think too hard about the entire lack of floor beneath me. Once we got to the base of the zipline tower, we started climbing. And climbing. And climbing.

And then we were at the top. And I could see just how high I was. And I panicked.

I turned to my friend and said, “I think I’m going to walk back down.”And she, being the absolute gem that she is, nodded and said, “Whatever you need.” No guilt. No pressure. Just pure support. (Everyone deserves a friend like that.)

But as I stood there, trying to convince myself that taking the stairs was the mature choice, something hit me. I thought of my husband—my very loving, very supportive husband—who, based on our ferris wheel experience in Niagara Falls and a fear filled trip to the CN Tower restaurant, knew I’d probably chicken out.

And I thought, “You know what? I’m gonna prove him wrong.”Sometimes petty is powerful, okay?

So I strapped in. I was sweating. My heart was racing. I was ready... until they told me I had to kick the door open to actually start the zipline.

Wait, what?

That’s when the real panic set in. But my friend? She waited, calm as ever. Just sat there next to me, holding space like the ride-or-die she is.

And finally, we counted down (I think…I may have blacked out for a second from adrenaline), kicked that little door open, and flew.

Feet off the ground, head in the trees!

I laughed. I cried. I screamed. And I survived. More than that—I loved it.

That one terrifying, sweaty-palmed moment reminded me that comfort zones are kind of like the shallow end of the pool. Safe, predictable, but not exactly where you learn how to swim.

Now I’ve got a new bucket list item: ziplining from Quebec to Ontario. It’s gonna be a while before that happens, and my son wants to do it with me, so you can bet it’ll push me right back out of that comfort zone again.

But here’s the thing: the fear doesn’t go away. It just gets quieter when you’ve done the scary thing once and come out the other side smiling.

So if you’re putting off a big decision or feeling stuck this summer, ask yourself—am I avoiding this because it’s the wrong move, or just because it’s scary?

And maybe, just maybe, this is your zipline moment.