The only thing that disrupts this glass-like stillness is the raspy sound of my first breath underwater.
CSHHHHHHH
It's exhilarating. It makes my heart rate fly and my regulator nearly fall out of my mouth from smiling so big.
It's a crazy thing in that in spite of all the water that surrounded me, in that moment I felt dehydrated for details. I had read during training that divers "never forget the feeling of their first breath underwater," so I knew my brain had limited time to wrap around every tangible feeling of that moment before it slipped away in the next current of pool water.
If you had told me a year earlier that I would be fully kitted up in a wet suit and scuba gear, breathing underwater, I would have laughed at you.
There are only two things that have ever terrified me in my life: running out of air and sharks. So no, scuba diving wasn't at the top of my list for things to do.
Yet sure enough, I found myself at the bottom of a 12-foot pool, breathing condensed oxygen.
Starting With Sharks
The fear of sharks was rather quick to ease, but I'm not entirely sure I'll ever be fully comfortable around them. I realized I had been judging them solely on my limited knowledge, including but not limited to: Jaws, The Reef, and Sharknado (not proud of that last one).
I began researching them more. I followed accounts on social media that focused on saving them, and I finally sat down to watch Shark Week. What I found was that, like most fears, mine was based entirely on theatrical versions in my own head, and not on real-life information.
Once I had decided to become a diver, I decided to work on my fear of sharks.
After only a few weeks of "immersing" myself in the lives of sharks from the comfort and safety of my home, I began to feel more comfortable with the idea of confronting one in the wild. In fact, I almost hoped for it. In my head all these years, sharks had been monsters. But I began to realize they're just animals, the same as a dog, horse, buffalo, whatever.
It may take me a while, and I may always be a little timid around them, but I hope through experience I can come to understand and appreciate them. Besides, that fear wasn't really what was standing in my way between myself and the deep blue.
Isn't Breathing Supposed to be Basic?
To most people, breathing is pretty far down on their radar. It's natural, involuntary, seamless.
I don't remember my first panic attack, but I do remember a handful of scares I've had in the past that made me fully aware of the fragile nature breathing and life have. I've written about those anxiety attacks before.
Anxiety does not run my life in any way, but it does offer the opportunity to study how panic serves a purpose. Perhaps that purpose is simply to understand ourselves a little better.
Several of these little episodes I've had have climaxed with me frantically hyperventilating. If you've ever experienced this before, no doubt you know exactly what it's like. If you haven't, imagine someone being able to reach into your throat, and squeeze your airway. Imagine sheer panic flooding your brain, screaming at you that if you do not get air right this second you are going to die. No logic, no sense of shame, nothing, can stop the squeeze happening on your throat. It feels like you're drowning. Indeed, nothing like those two things, hyperventilation and drowning, will make you fully appreciate the deep flow of air running through your lungs with ease at this very moment.
As frightening as this is, I have found that experiencing this flood of panic chemicals has helped me tremendously with experimenting what helps me to come out of it. Unfortunately, it's also terrified me subconsciously of ever feeling that squeeze on my throat again. What's worse than running out of air above ground? Running out of air under 40 meters of water.
Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus
In my mind, I'd always seen myself doing something like diving. I grew up wanting to be an astronaut, but discovering I wasn't exactly brilliant at math and science, I instead gravitated toward more terrestrial careers. To me, diving was the average-joe's way of experiencing the closest thing to space, zero-gravity, and new worlds.
There was really just one thing that kept me from pursuing it. Air.
Obviously, I knew I had a history of panic attacks, and that sometimes those attacks happened completely unprecedented. What if I had one underwater? Without verbal communication, how would I explain to my companions what was going on? Was there a possibility of seriously injuring myself if I were to have an attack while breathing condensed air? I felt these were serious things to consider.
I began watching videos, following divers online, anything I could do to try and instigate some courage and accept the risk I was taking.
My dive instructor encouraged me to read "The Oxygen Advantage" by Patrick McKeown. As I write this, I have't finished the book yet. However, only being about half-way through, I can say that it's message is indeed changing my life.
I came to Florida on a volleyball scholarship. I had played competitively for nearly a decade, and when I say competitively, I mean competitively. My senior year club team was one of the highest ranked teams in the nation, with over four of the ten teammates playing on the pre-Olympic USA women's team, and every one of them attending top Division I colleges afterward.
I don't want to blame my volleyball career on breathing. There were a lot of factors that played into me not pursuing the sport professionally after college. However, breathing was a battle I didn't realize I was losing until after my athletic career had ended. All that time I had spent being beaten in drills because I was the first to run out of breath, or the one who looked closest to passing out after sprints even though I was in the best shape of my life.
After all my years of being a scholarshiped athlete, it was scuba diving that brought airflow to my attention.
In his book, McKeown writes about how nearly the entire population is ignorant to the real science behind breathing. He argues that while the old adage, "take a big deep breath" might feel like it's doing a lot of good, it's actually the exact opposite of what should be taking place in your body.
He discusses how nitric oxide, the gas once considered a toxic substance because of it's role in smog, is actually the vital to kick-starting our cardiovascular systems. The way we obtain it is through its production in our nasal cavity and the lining of our blood vessels. This is why McKeown proposes nose breathing as the primary source of oxygen. He says,
"Nasal breathing is imperative for harnessing the benefits of nitric oxide, working hand in hand with abdominal breathing and helping to maximize body oxygenation. Think of the nose as reservoir: Each time we breathe gently and slowly through the nose, we carry this mighty molecule into the lungs and blood, where it can do its work throughout the body. Mouth breathing bypasses this special gas, missing out on the important advantages that nitric oxide provides for general well-being."
McKeown discusses the potential that shallow breathing has in terms of overall health, mentally, physically and emotionally. He points out that this is not a popular topic, that even some of the most incredible athletes of our time are actually hindering themselves with poor breathing technique. He claims past patients of his have even cured their lifelong struggle with asthma. These are extraordinary claims, but his book has the science to back them up.
I've been attempting to apply his techniques to my every day life and I've found it to be extremely helpful in many aspects, beginning with scuba diving.
Accepting Risk
At the end of the day, I have very little to comfort those looking to find a solution to mixing diving with anxiety attacks.
The idea of going tens of meters down underwater with nothing but a limited supply of air and a very thick way of getting that air, is pretty terrifying to someone who has grazed the limit of gasping to death.
Air, like water, is an incredible dichotomy between the very thing that gives us life, and at the same time brings us death. It's incredibly paradoxical nature earns it a lot of respect when you realize it's the fragile line that separates you from one life to another. From the depths of the ocean, to the highest possible peak, it offers no explanation for it's capricious character.
I've made the decision for myself that I have gained enough ground in understanding my panic to safely manage my health underwater. I feel that I have found enough helpful techniques in calming myself down to at least convey the situation to a companion, if not prevent it entirely.
I wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to explore other worlds. This is a risk I'm willing to take.
It may not be a perfect answer, but it's what I'm comfortable with for now. If there was some magic pill I could take that would guarantee me to never have another attack again, I wouldn't take it. Struggling with this forces me to explore my own limits, test new theories about myself, and conquer fears.
If that's not exploration at it's finest, then I don't know what is.
