Snorkeling: Journey to Overcoming FEAR
“Do it,” they said. “Move to Hawaii,” they said, “you’ll love it. The tropical weather, the ocean, the fish, the diving…”
“Nope,” I said, “not me. I’m terrified of the ocean.”
My plan was to move to Hawaii and STAY ON THE BEACH.
What happened instead was nothing short of transformational shift in my thinking.
Week One — Allowing for the possibility
I put my feet in the water. Maybe even up to my knees. Somehow going in further than my knees puts me in the position of no longer being able to outrun a shark. Yes. I literally had that thought.
No one ever said fear is rational.
Weeks Two and Three: Observation and Risk Assessment
Still on the beach (thank goodness), really not digging the amount of time I spend slathering on the zinc oxide (reef safe!) and adjusting the umbrella I sit under. I’m doing Sudoku, which I can actually do more comfortably at home, but I am in Hawaii after all. A quiet thought in the back of my brain begins to suggest I might be missing out on something.
My partner gently tries to lure me into the water. He’s leaning on me just enough for me to feel it, but stops short of igniting my flight/fight response. I feel my first shift towards change. It’s fun to do things with your partner.
Week Four: How realistic is my fear anyway?
My daughter, son-in-law, grandkids and my mother come to visit. Suddenly everyone is in the water all day every day, splashing and shrieking with joy. The kids are so happy their bodies are humming with excitement. My daughter grabs a snorkle and goes WAY OUT THERE, causing me to leave my beloved umbrella and stand on the beach looking for her. I can barely breath while she’s out there, but when she returns, I feel the second shift.
She is radiant from the experience, describing fish, joy on her face, her whole body vibrating with aliveness. There is zero fear in her; nothing but awe and a desire to get back out there as soon as she can.
Shift number 2: Other snorkelers are entering and leaving the water with all their body parts still attached. Most are even smiling. Could this be fun?
Weeks Five to Seven: Random Dabbling
During this time, I’m learning that there are not sharks lurking immediately offshore waiting for a chunk of my leg. I’ve even started to try to snorkle, but am completely terrified once my feet can’t touch sand.
There’s a moment one day where I try fins. They are awkward and don’t match the way I’ve been moving my legs, especially when I try to tread water. I’m kicking all over the place, which is pushing my face INTO the water. My mask is on, but fogged; there is water in my eyes, in my nose, in my snorkel. Water everywhere. I am panicking now. Kicking frantically, I pull off my snorkel and mask, but my head is barely above water, so I can’t get air. My left foot and leg cramp up. I am not thinking now, just panicking.
I don’t know how, but I wrangle the mask and snorkel back on long enough to float face down and breathe.
Shift number three. Fear tried to drown me. Calm saved my butt.
Week Eight — The Teacher Arrives…
After the panic day, I resolve to never use fins again. They are for other people. I don’t need to go fast. I’m safer without them. These are the things I say to myself.
Luckily, my partner’s sister arrives for a visit. She and I have never spent more than a couple hours together around a dinner table, but we instantly connect. Unfortunately (in my mind), she’s a dive instructor. We are going to snorkle together.
I don’t like this one bit. I’ve become very dependent on having my partner RIGHT next to me while I snorkle, and he has all but given up on insisting on the fins. I don’t think his sister is going to understand my unique need to have my feet free in the water. Turns out, I am 100% right. She is not buying it.
But she is gentle in her insistence, so I find myself “giving it a go.” Before we enter the water, she spends time teaching me about the equipment. Who knew there was so much finesse to snorkeling? For example, the snorkle itself is supposed to be on the LEFT side of the mask. (She tells me this as she relocates my snorkel to the correct side.) She shows me how to blow water out of the snorkle and the mask without removing either from my face. In short, she gives all the tips and tools I need to have a fighting chance with the equipment.
On our first journey out, I stop her at the beach, letting her know I’ll probably want to stop before she does. “What’s the signal for I’m getting out now?” I ask her. She looks at me with an odd expression and says, “Just tell me.” What is she thinking? My experience with treading water while wearing fins didn’t leave any time — or air — for chatting.
We move slowly. There is more bobbing in the waves than swimming, but after a few pointers regarding the fins, I actually find myself experimenting with the way they move my body in the waves. She teaches me how not to use my arms, how to turn my body with just my fins. I feel exceptionally accomplished the first time I turn my body so that my feet are under me and I tread water without panic. Wow! NOW I understand the odd expression on the beach. Apparently it is possible to talk while treading water.
Shift number 4 -gaining competence is key to gaining confidence.
Week Eight (cont)— …and the wonder starts
We go out a few more times and each time is a little easier. On our last day, we find an exceptional snorkeling location that holds an astounding assortment of brightly colored fish. There are moments where I am so absorbed by the fish that I forget to worry about my mask and fins.
Shift 5: as fear subsides, there is space for wonder.
The Present — Keeping Calm
Somewhere in the midst of this process, the proportion of fear to fun flipped. At the beginning, there was honestly no room in my brain for curiosity; there was 100% fear.
Each small decision about my fear of the ocean either added more fear or created the tiniest, merest speck of room in my mind for something else: fun, wonder, excitement. Every time I calmed myself and said, “Okay, Self, you can do this one little thing,” a space opened up in the dense mass of fear.
Slowly, there was 99% fear and 1% room for curiosity. Then 98% and 2% room for wonder, and so on until I estimate I am currently at about 70% enjoyment and 30% fear. This is a pretty manageable ratio for snorkeling in a comfortable location. I can stay in the water well over an hour now whereas in the beginning, my mind got to me after about 10 minutes.
There are still plenty of thoughts in my head trying to convince me that a shark is RIGHT BEHIND ME or that a boat is going to run me over. I haven’t been able to stop the thoughts. I have, however, learned to recognize the voice of fear, to pause, and not let it panic me. Just that pause enables me to stay in the water.
The change started the first time I made the tiniest decision to think about trying the thing that scared me and with each new choice, I’ve chosen the path towards snorkeling.
I’m convinced that the course of a lifetime is truly decided not by the grand gestures, but by the weight of each tiny, individual decision. I try to keep that in mind every day.
