Lessons learned on a diving course

I had booked a 4-day SSI diving course on Magnetic Island that would certify me to dive down to 18m with a buddy anywhere in the world. I had chosen to do it on Magnetic purely because at $231 it was the cheapest deal I could find. The course consists of 2 days of theory and pool practice, and 2 days out on the sea with 4 dives. On top of that there were extra 2 free dives included in the package. I had been waiting for the course with a mixture of dread and curiosity. I was pretty nervous, expecting I would either hate or love it.

On arrival at the hostel where the dive course would be held, I got a instruction manual in my hand. Only when I was reading through it I realized how scary diving really was... As I've mentioned before, I am slightly claustrophobic. By "slightly" I mean that I am able to control my fear, but feel very uncomfortable and have to make constant effort to stay calm. Now, you would think that there's plenty of space in the ocean... But at the same time, diving in it makes it sort of a closed place, because once you're deep enough, you can't get out anytime you like. When you hang out at 15 meter's depth, you can't just freak out and bolt to the surface, because there's so much nitrogen and compressed air in your body, that there's a high risk that something inside you will explode when the air tries to escape if you rise to the surface too fast.

I imagine myself there at 15 meters, freaking out about something. It would take me about 5 minutes to rise to the surface safely from that depth. I could do it if everything goes well, but give me a shark, a broken mask or anything else to freak me out... even if I know how to fix the problem, I can't guarantee not to panic under the water and drown. Thinking about that makes me terrified.

The instructor was a really nice and patient Norwegian guy, who actually had Finnish parents and so could speak my language. I sat through the first day of theory, went to the pool and dived. I could do every single one of the so-called skills we tried: I could fetch back a lost regulator (the thing you breath from), or put back on a knocked-off mask, or put all the gear on underwater. I could do all that without problems. However, every moment sitting there in the bottom of the pool, my instincts were screaming at me, yelling that all this was so wrong. Every second I had to remind myself to stay calm, to breath slowlier, when all I wanted to do was go up to the surface and breath normally. I've never felt like that when snorkelling.

So I survived the first day, had a shower to warm me up and prepared for a second day of theory and pool training. I went to bed early, only to wake up at 1am to worry about the following day. It took me three hours and a sobbing phone call to mum (thanks to the time difference 3am Aussie time is a perfect time to call) before I could sleep again.

In the morning I went to the diving school a bit early, and told them I wanted to quit. The instructor was surprised, because he thought I had done fine the day before. (Being no Edward, he can't see inside my head.) He tried to talk me into trying one more day in the pool, and assured me that I could do an extra day in the pool (which, btw, one other girl in the course did) before going into the ocean, if I needed it. I had known all that already, but still his convincing made me waver. Had I given up too early? Still, I stood up to my decision and left the course. They told me I could come back anytime if I changed my mind.

That day I was really upset about quitting the course. I didn't care about losing the money. But I was ashamed of being a quitter. It doesn't matter that much what the staff or other students think, because after a few days I would never see them again anyway. But, I had left myself down, sort of failed - then again, it wasn't that I wasn't able to do it, I just didn't want to go as far as needed to get the certificate. I could've completed rest of the pool practice, even done the ocean dives. I was afraid I would've forced myself to go through it, as every day quitting would've got harder and harder. The thing was, I desperately did not want to dive deep.

My mum reminded me that diving was supposed to be a fun thing to do for my enjoyment. I was certainly not having fun, shaking from fear in the water and not being able to sleep at night, crying. It took me a few days to realize, that it was perfectly ok change my mind and quit. Why go through something that made me feel so bad, when I by no means had to? No one needs me to dive - I thought that it might be fun (which is surely would, if I got over my fears) and wanted to prove myself I could do it. Stupid pride.

I was also afraid that I would miss out on something, not diving. But then again, there are heaps of other options available: snorkeling, submersible tours, glassbottom boats, aquariums - all of which are cheaper, safer and more comfortable. How much bigger would my enjoyment diving be, compared to these other options? I came to the conclusion, that the comparable gain was smaller that the pain I would have to go through to achieve it, and therefore my decision was also rational. Then I had to be tougher to myself and told myself to stop whining: no reason to get so upset about a course! (Especially as I could retake it anywhere if I changed my mind.)

A week later, I visited Townsville aquarium (more about that in a later entry). Looking through the window of the tanks, I imagined myself there in the bottom of the tank with the fish. It was only about 5m deep, but I instantly felt a pang of fear and uncomfort. I knew then that I had made the right decision, as I was definitely not ready.

Quitting was a tough lesson in decision making, but I'm very glad I found the courage to say no. Adventures are about testing your limits. I would say mine is about three meters below the surface.