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A recent Disneyland trip revealed to me one of the positive mental health benefits of traveling outdoors.

Already 45 minutes long, I stood in line with my roommate waiting to hop on the “California Screamin” ride at Disneyland’s Adventures Park. Every minute, I heard screams as the ride jolted from the launch area and bolted riders up a short tunnel before rushing them through a zig-zag path which included vertical turns. My heart thumped harder as our turn approached. The closer we approached the launch deck, the more my fingers rattled. Then both of my entire hands. Then my legs. Then my shoulders. After a deep breath I shuddered the feelings out of my body. The volume of yells grew louder.

Finally it was our turn to enter. The previous passengers hopped out and we sat inside. Metal bars clamped down over each of us. I grasped and shook them multiple times to weaken my doubts. Every 10 seconds we slid forward in queue. “Can’t this go faster?!” my mind shouted. Then my wish arrived. Instead of a gradual start, the ride jolted forward at 50 MPH. While we approached the tunnel incline, which briefly slowed our momentum, another personality invaded. Like the ghost of a secondary instinct seeped through my skin and exorcised all of my worries. We whisked down the roller coaster lane, turned at insane loops, flew across sharp angles, hung vertically for short seconds; all I could eek out were loud, energetic, happy screams. I couldn’t tell you how long the ride lasted, but I realized that it was ending when we slowed and pulled up onto the deck.

I don’t feel relief. Only disappointment. Since the line is super long, it’s unfeasible to wait in it again. Instead of fear, I’m eager. I want to stomp and wail like a five-year old kid and demand to ride it again without waiting in line. What’s happening here?!

Later that night, we wait in line for the giant Ferris wheel. I listen to the screams convulsing from people inside the swinging compartments, louder and more horrifying than the roller coaster yells. That same nervous energy returns, causing my heart to thump furiously. After we hop on, a fearless spirit leaps into my body and the sweet satisfaction of swinging 65 feet above ground nurtures every fearful goosebump that has crawled up my arms. My roommate and unknown neighbors (shared compartment) scream for their lives! I cheer in excitement and wish for the thrill to continue indefinitely. Again I question myself, What’s happening here?!

I have a theory: all of my outdoor excursions has prepped my mental toughness and rid me of my normal anxieties. What’s actually scarier: a controlled roller coaster ride, or staring 4,000 feet down while sitting near the edge of the Grand Canyon West Rim? Try climbing and crawling down a slippery cliff while looking face-forward the entire time, and fighting off the fear of heights that’s triggering internal fight-or-flight responses. There’s also the shortcut gorges at Alamere Falls and Tomales Bay State park which require careful climbing navigation or a painful slippage will ensue. And there’s Yosemite National Park and our hiking group’s ordeal discovering a narrow hidden trail to reach North Dome; viewing the entire Valley landscape made that particular tricky journey a worthy hardship.

I’m not alone in declaring the outdoors as an anxiety cure. I have learned about an organization, calling itself Warrior Expeditions, helping veterans adjust to civilian life by providing outdoor gear and letting them backpack one of the major trails in the U.S. (Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, etc.) for several months; they’re paired with other soldiers who previously returned from combat and already adjusted to non-military life. The National Institute of Health published a study analyzing a phenomena called “biophilia” — negative mental effects due to a discord from nature. I can attest to this. In winter months, when I’m less inclined to venture into the outdoors due to cold weather, I experience a small depression. Maybe humans have a primal need to connect with nature, a connection that’s severed by living in dense urban areas. When we embark outdoors, perhaps we regain that bond and it nurtures our mood.

So far I plan to spend most of my weekends camping and hiking. I will maintain my efforts while the good weather permits. My mental well-being demands it.

Jermaine Holmes is an SEO analyst for an e-commerce and the main blogger for Cantbelievethat.com — an outdoor-focused content site.