The first time I jumped was out of a Cessna and the procedure was to hang from the strut and let go. I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to let go that I asked the pilot for 30 extra seconds on the jump approach so I could just hang there and get used to the idea. He obliged, but I only lasted a couple of seconds before I thought no biggie and took off. I dropped so early I didn’t quite make it back to the drop zone and had to walk for a while.
A couple hundred skydives later, too many flights to count, and some occasional cliff jumps and bike dirt jumps, I’m still to this day terrified about climbing down ten feet from my roof on a ladder. But I no longer feel like I need to overcome it, and in a weird way I’m glad it’s still a “thrill” to stand on the edge of something tall.