I Stood On The Edge And Jumped!

My Leap into Freedom

I stood on the edge of the pool and jumped! This was a leap I didn’t intend to take but one I needed to.

This is where I leaped into freedom!

Have you ever been in a situation where you felt simultaneously courageous and afraid? On that sliver of tension—the place where the known and unknown meet—lives the opportunity for change… or surrender.

At seven years old, I was the same as I am now: standing in a space of growth, sometimes tiptoeing into courage, but never, ever saying “I surrender.”

We had just moved to New Jersey, out of our small, loving, crowded one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with five of us. Now, we each had our own bedroom. We had more space than we dreamed of…and there was even a community pool.

I wasn’t allowed to swim on my own, because I didn’t yet know how to do so. That wasn’t just frustrating—it felt limiting. I could feel a restlessness within me, wanting to achieve a goal faster than I could. The energy in my body felt electrifying. I began to put my ideas together, as if stitching strokes in my mind, before ever diving in.

I was not about to be limited even at seven years old!  I knew I needed to pass the deep water test, swimming across the ten foot section of the pool successfully, in order to achieve my goal.

Determined and strong-willed, my plan took action.

I asked for swim lessons. This was so much more than  just swimming. Passing the deep water test meant more than crossing ten feet of water. This was about freedom—my deepest held value.

It meant I could walk two blocks alone. I would cross a street alone, after looking both ways, and then I would enter the swim club confidently and proudly, to spend the day with friends or be on my own.

It meant I could be hired as a mother’s helper and earn money.

It meant I could buy a grilled cheese sandwich on my own and eat it by myself if I wanted to.

I wanted freedom more than anything.

I practiced. I envisioned my goal. I imagined the feeling of standing tall at the edge of the pool, unaccompanied, proud—ready to leap. And when the day came, my swim coach looked at me and nodded—her quiet way of saying, “You’re ready.”

Something in my body told me: you will be safe. That inner knowing—that spark—became my compass.

On the edge, time paused and I thought about my past, my present, and the promise of freedom waiting on the other side.
I didn’t know that at the time—but I was ready to grow.
The butterflies in my belly weren’t just nerves; they were messengers.
They told me this wasn’t just good for me—it might even be fun.
I breathed in the scent of summer chlorine, the echo of children laughing, the promise of freedom carried on the warm breeze.
And in that moment, I believed in me.

I leaped…away from my fear.

I leaped…into my courage.

I leaped…toward my freedom.

Photo by Leonie Clough on Unsplash

And then—I did it.

I leaped into the water.
Swam halfway underwater, holding my breath with everything I had.
I popped up, gasping joyfully, and made my way across the rest of the deep end.
Every stroke felt like a statement: I can. I am. I will.
As I neared the end, I reached toward the edge and lifted myself up into the arms of my swim coach, who caught me in celebration and quiet pride.

I had done more than swim.
I had claimed my freedom.

Since that day when I was seven, I’ve had countless opportunities to rise or fall. Standing on that precipice—where fear meets courage—has been a constant companion in my life. And each time, just before I leap, I remember her: that little girl who stared down ten feet of water and jumped anyway.

I call upon her wisdom.

I borrow her courage.

And together, we leap—into the next challenge, the next unknown, the next adventure waiting to shape me.

Because courage isn’t something you outgrow. It’s something you carry. From age seven… to forever.

Photo by Wang Sheeran on Unsplash

Just do it. It’s more than three words. It’s a mindset.

A mindset forged in stillness and shaped by focus, grounded in a deep connection to your inner knowing. It’s listening to the quiet signals: the butterflies in your belly, calling you toward something or the lump in your throat signaling you to pause. These are not weaknesses. This is your body’s wisdom and language speaking to you.

Just do it doesn’t call for recklessness—it calls for readiness. It’s the mantra of the strong-willed. The brave. The ones who dare to trust their preparation, their intuition, and their power.

Photo by PAN XIAOZHEN on Unsplash

It’s the breath before the breakthrough.

The moment of stillness before the step forward.

It’s not pressure—it’s purpose.

Not fear—it’s fire.Not impulse—but inner truth.

"Just do it" is a sacred yes—to possibility, to presence, to who you are becoming.

This song was played almost daily in my home and every time a goal was achieved.

So I ask you—what leap is waiting for you? What challenge stands between who you are and who you’re becoming? When fear shows up, how will you invite courage to sit or stand beside it. Listen for the voice inside you that whispers,“You’ll be safe. Just do it.”

Please share with me your experience of your moments of “Just do it—and how you knew your sacred yes pulled you toward this goal”.

Your comments and shares are meaningful. I appreciate each of you and value you share.

With much gratitude-

Chellie