Some people have a Duolingo streak, others pride themselves on the consistency of their gym attendance – my consistency comes in the form of having thrown up on, or adjacent to, a Spanish man for two years running. I wish I were more adventurous, uninhibited by fear or reservation, not deterred by temporary mortification. Unfortunately, I’m an anxious person. While I’ve made this a key tenet of my consciousness, it’s time to get out of my own way and face some fears. In the words of my college wife, sometimes you need to “pull up your big girl pants”. I in no way mean to diminish how crippling anxiety can be (trust me, I’ve been there), merely to make light of the silly worries. Wearing a wetsuit won’t end the world, though it may bruise your dignity.

“Not a single person noticed my horrendous tan lines”

First off: the wetsuit. It may seem an abnormal aversion but if, like me, you had to wear a too-small wetsuit on an out-of-bounds surfing trip in the October Anglesey sea, you would share my distaste. Beyond the garment itself, learning to snorkel and scuba dive in the open ocean seemed overwhelming. Still, I gave it a shot, and quickly settled into the rhythm of the boat, taking advice from seasoned snorkelers. The greatest cure for my anxiety was removing myself from the spotlight and having fun with it! I took goofy photos of me with mahoosive flippers on, and laughed off the bruise from a water entry gone wrong. People do it every day – if you can get that supervision essay in on time, you can do whatever else is scaring you (and this time, it’s not graded!). I saw blue tangs and clownfish, got nipped by jellyfish, and met the most amazing people. Not taking yourself too seriously makes you realise how little attention anyone is paying: not a single person noticed my horrendous tan lines.

The next fear I am attempting to face is my fear of cable cars. As a child, my dad and I queued for hours for cable cars, just for me to panic, burst into tears and dart away from pure terror. My ever-patient and loving dad took me home and I never confronted a cable car again … until this summer. Knowing 33-degree heat and a huge theme park was untenable, I pulled up my big girl pants and climbed onboard the dubious pods, and (drumroll) it was fine! I consciously decided to release control; you cannot will a cable car’s engineering to function. Instead, I crunched the numbers: the probability of anything dubious happening was slim to none, so rather than analyse every bump, squawk and rattle, I focused on the tree tops.

“Do I love flying? No, but will I let it inhibit my life? Also no!”

Surrendering myself to the will of the universe (or, more accurately, the themepark’s safety standards) allowed me to enjoy myself, absolved of any cosmic responsibility for the ride. We slid across the forest, taking in its enormity with childlike wonder. I texted my dad to tell him of my somewhat belated victory, and that feeling of pride alone was worth the terrifying creaks of the cables.

Now we reach the final (and possibly greatest) fear of them all: flying. I’ve flown plenty of times, but it’s typically been anticipated with sleepless nights. Just the thought of walking up the steps to the aircraft door would loom large over any holiday, knowing the distress awaiting me at the trip’s conclusion. This summer, I ended up taking several long-haul flights, some of them even alone, a feat that previously seemed insurmountable. And yet, I found myself at Heathrow, because hey, if I can survive the Medieval paper, watching films and eating snacks for 15 hours seems a breeze. I explained my anxiety to the cabin crew, who reassured and routinely checked in on me. Before the flight, I bought noise-cancelling headphones and pressure-equalising earplugs, and stuffed my phone with downloaded content. Many romcoms later, we touched down unscathed, and I’d done it. I mean, I didn’t do much, but you get the gist. Do I love flying? No, but will I let it inhibit my life? Also no! My advice would be to communicate your needs. Humans were not built for flight, so it’s understandable that you may be nervous. Come prepared with your own comforts, and never underestimate the kindness of the cabin crew.

While cable cars and wetsuits are silly and, I recognise, somewhat irrational, the younger iterations of myself found so much pride in these small victories. I’m not saying you should book a skydiving session or start handling spiders, but consider not immediately rejecting something out of fear, or fear of embarrassment. And yes, sometimes you may throw up near a kind Spanish man in the process! I’m still a worrier and I’m okay with that. I may always be anxious, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do watersports, use cable cars, or take a flight … I just may need to hold your hand on take off.