My exposure exercise at Karijini National Park

Do you have any fear that holds you back from what you want to achieve?
What is your relationship with fear when it shows up?
What if, on the other side of fear, is the growth that you long for?

After our initial car breakdown, we were worried that we wouldn’t make it in time to attend the Karijini Canyoning experience that we had paid for. This is my absolute love-and-fear experience. I love the sound of abseiling, hiking, walking through the narrow canyon, tubing—but I also knew I would have trouble jumping off the cliff into the water. I was mentally preparing myself, thinking it should be okay, as long as I had my goggles (coming from a poor family in Malaysia, swimming lessons were an absolute luxury; I only learned to swim in adulthood, thanks to a friend!).

We got our car back on time and drove from Exmouth to Karijini on Friday. We thought 6 or 7 hours would be okay—but we were wrong. On its own, the car drove fine, but while towing the caravan, the engine signal kept popping up. We had to stop and reset the engine multiple times, wondering if the journey should continue! After much stress and nerves, 12 hours later, we arrived at the Karijini Eco Retreat campground at 9:30 pm. It was pitch black and scary! No dinner, the kids were asleep by then, and we only managed to have a hot drink.

The next day, we woke up to the most beautiful landscape and sunrise.
Every time we have an adventure tour planned, my younger daughter gets moody in the morning, knowing she will be pushed out of her comfort zone (much like my inner child being dysregulated!). When we arrived at the meeting point to meet our guide, Sven, at 9 am, my younger girl was not happy, pouting. Sven tried hard to build rapport with her, making a joke about his “Frozen” name, but failed miserably.

That aside, I had to regulate myself because I was panicking inside! Deep breaths and long exhales, repeatedly. When Sven told me I couldn’t wear my goggles, my amygdala went into overdrive!

I cannot swim without my goggles.
I would have to give up at the car park and be sent back.
That would be embarrassing.
My husband would have to continue the whole day with the kids without me!
I can’t even regulate myself, let alone my child.
Why did I even sign up for this?

As we got ready under Sven’s instructions and prepared to head off, I used all my ACT skills possible. 😄
This was a class 5 hike (Extreme rating). There were 12 participants and 2 guides. As they guided us down the gorge, we had to carry a tube with us. It was more challenging than our usual hikes. My husband helped our younger daughter while I faced my demons, focusing on my own hike.

It was hot. I was sweating so much that it dripped down onto the rocks. My palms were sweaty, my mouth was dry, and my legs felt like jelly. My brain worked hard to prepare me for this challenge. I really wanted to pull out, but we kept going. We reached the first pool, where Sven tested my swimming ability. We had to throw the tube into the pool, swim across, and get onto the tube. Despite my nerves, I swam slowly (without goggles), but I struggled to get on the tube, kicking nervously. Sven asked, “Poh, you look like you’re struggling. Are you sure you want to continue?” Damn! Should I keep going if he’s questioning it?

With all the chatter in my head, we pressed on. We reached a narrow canyon where the other guide, James, instructed us to put on our abseiling gear. One by one, we descended—my husband first, then the kids, then me! Soon, we could see the natural slide with water flowing toward the Knox Gorge pool. My husband slid down, and with encouragement from the guides, so did my kids. Then it was my turn.

I could feel the intense fear building. There was no option to freeze up. I couldn’t turn back. Eight other participants were waiting behind me. The only way forward was to slide down! As my older child said, “You’ve passed the point of no return!”

I looked at Sven, who stood on the opposite side of the pool, iPhone in hand, ready to capture the jump. He yelled encouragement: “You’ve got this, Poh! Come on, you can do it!” My kids and husband watched in anticipation, knowing how hard this was for me. They knew it usually takes me half an hour just to jump into a swimming pool, so we weren’t sure I could do it here, honestly.

I sat down, inching forward, looking at the slide. My heart pounded irregularly. Even as I type this, I can still feel the visceral effect of that intense moment. I flapped my hands to release some nerves. This was a true surrender moment— “feel the fear and do it anyway.”

I slid down the two-story-high fall, letting out the loudest squeal I’ve ever made in my life. Pinching my nose with one hand and holding my helmet with the other, I dived into the turquoise pool of truth. I plunged deep, opening my eyes to see golden sun rays shining through the water. I kicked my way up like a proper swimmer, heart racing, and swam toward my family (I could actually do it!) as they cheered me on. I can’t describe that feeling in words. It felt like something had shifted within me, on a cellular level. As I got onto the rocks and looked back, I couldn’t believe I’d done it. It was one of those “I can’t believe I did it!” moments—relief mixed with hysterical pride. I almost cried.

The rest of the trip was AMAZING! We abseiled down to another pool, swam across to have lunch, and enjoyed the best tuna sandwich ever. We watched the other participants dive into the water and swim over to join us. After lunch, we continued hiking and paddled down the canyon in our tubes, surrounded by breathtaking rock formations. The kids played around, and the guides entertained us with jokes and made-up stories about aqua wombats eating radioactive moss. By the time we reached the next pool, I jumped in and swam without my goggles.

This is an experience I’ll never forget. Overcoming fear, one step at a time, is nothing new for me, but this one stands out. For someone with a family history of drowning trauma, for someone who’s often paralyzed by fear, for someone who’s never dived so deep before—this was huge.

I realized that what solidified through this process was trust in myself. On the other side of fear lies openness and surrendering trust in yourself. That kind of growth is priceless.

We don’t overcome fear by getting rid of it. We transcend fear by taking brave actions despite the chatter and paralysing emotions.

So, what fear is holding you back, and how can you nudge yourself in the direction of growth?