Soaring above the rocky desert at Skull Canyon, I faced thrills, laughter, and freedom on my first zipline adventure with my aunt and uncle

White water rafting in Bali’s lush jungle felt like magic. Towering trees, icy waterfalls, and adrenaline-fueled adventure down the river.

Then I saw it—the mechanical bull. The dare that could buck back. It sat there in the middle of the room like a challenge waiting for me, quietly mocking anyone brave or dumb to even enough to try.

I never thought I’d end up on a dodgeball court, but here I am, sweaty palms, heart thumping, the smell of gym floor rubber and adrenaline in the air. I am joining the WeHo Dodgeball & Sports League. The first night was absolute chaos.

Skydiving didn’t magically make me braver in every aspect of life. But it did remind me that sometimes, the scariest moment is just the step forward.

So no, dune bashing wasn’t what I expected. It was wild. It was dusty. It was sweaty and sandy and so much fun it made my face hurt from smiling. And that dinner under the stars? Magic.

Last week, I jumped off a bridge. Not metaphorically—like a bold career move or a grand romantic gesture. I literally jumped.

I conquered one of my weirdest, most specific fears, scuba diving. I now have an official card that says I’m legally allowed to hang out with sea creatures below 30 feet.

Parasailing in Cabo San Lucas was the kind of bucket list thrill I’d been dreaming of — soaring above crystal-clear waters with nothing but ocean breeze and a parachute keeping me afloat. While my mom’s panic over a swarm of hammerhead sharks cut our first flight short, I went up again solo, floating high above the sea in pure, unforgettable freedom.