I went diving for the first time this week. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Not just because the Great Barrier Reef is other worldly, but because of the emotion and fear that came with it. For the first time I had a physical experience that felt relatable to what it feels like when I’m filled with anxiety.
Diving submerges you into a world of beauty, pressure, and potential danger. You need to rely on your senses, your knowledge, and a little tank of air plugged into your mouth, crunched in your jaw holding on for dear life. Knowing that you’re surrounded by something that will consume you if any of it fails at any moment is quite a suffocating thought. I hadn’t realized I had these fears with water until I went diving. But the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. I’m similar on land in my own brain. On a daily basis I’m surrounded by beautiful things. Fresh air, dogs, people I love, incredible places, the miracle of being a living, breathing human. But the fear of grief or sadness or failure so often overtake that and swallow me up. It eats away at my attention until all I can recognize are the waters of negativity engulfing me. I see the work I need to get done or the things I’m not doing. The people that don’t want me and the lack of places I feel I fit in. It’s like trying to dive to the bottom of the ocean without the oxygen tank. Surrounded by life and color, but all you can see is impending doom closing in on you.
In the end, more than anything, diving was an exercise in breathing and trust. When the panic set in, I breathed deeply and slowly. I put my trust in the equipment and the dive team and focused on the world around me. I latched onto tiny details. The way the light reflects on the schools of fish as they swim together. The insane amount of colors that fill the back of a parrot fish. The caverns filled with life. The textures that are more amazing than anything I’ve seen in my life. The details brought me back every time.
I know being submerged in ocean life is a much easier way to see the awe of the world surrounding me, but I’ve found myself thinking about it for the past week every time I start to feel my panic and anxiety rising. The fears of not doing enough, of not being enough. I think of the blue pressure around me and the deep breaths and the tiny details and I try to pick them out in the present moment. I try to remember: breathe deep, open your eyes, find the beauty in the details, and hold on.
Here are some images I took that day.
And of course, workin on those floor moves.
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