Snorkeling

Often, the perceptions that we have of ourselves are not always accurate.  And it can be jarring and surprising when assumptions we have made about ourselves are untrue.  As a little girl I would lay in my bed at night and dream of the adventures I’d have later in life.  I viewed myself as a risk taker, thrill seeker, and “count me in” kind of gal.

So when I was in my early thirties and on my honeymoon with my wife, of course I couldn’t wait to zipline, snorkel, and go horseback riding on the beach.  Ziplining was great.  Horseback riding was a scene filled with lots of laughter.  But snorkeling was unlike what anyone had expected.

From the moment I jumped in the water, I was uncomfortable.  It was too cold.  The waves were rolling and kept making me feel like the boat was going to run me over.  I swam as hard as I could toward the roped off area by the shore where all of the other people wearing blue flippers were swimming only to be stopped in my tracks by a disgusting rope separating one portion of the ocean from another.  My wife, ever the adventurer, held it up for me.  Evidently she thought I was going to swim under it, meaning I would have to put my face in the water.  Seeing the hesitation and the “you better be kidding” look in my eyes, she pushed it down.  So chivalrous.  

“It’s going to touch me if I swim over it!” I yelled, unnecessary panic in my voice.

“Well, it’s either over or under,” she stated matter of factly as she waited for me to decide.

No way was I putting my face in the water yet so over I went, as quickly as humanly possible.  I’m pretty sure I screamed as I did it, too. 

While swimming over to the group, she excitedly yelled, “Babe! Look!  You can already see fish!”  I watched as she and the others skillfully swam around, faces down.  I didn’t want the mask over my eyes and nose.  I certainly didn’t want the mouthpiece thing in my mouth.  And I was still awkwardly treading water upright with my hands in the air.

“I just need a minute!” I said.  “I’m trying to right myself!”

“There are so many fish!  You have to look!  You’re going to love it!”  she and the others would say with encouragement and enthusiasm between their time under water and rise to the surface.

I plunged my head partially into the water and immediately whipped back up.

“Did you see it?  There’s one right under you!”  Her eyes were bright with joy and excitement.

“Yeah, it was blue,” I said as I tore off the face mask and tried desperately to be comfortable in this moment.

“No, it’s not.  You were looking at your own flippers, you dipshit.”  She laughed and embraced me.  “How can I help you?  I can tell you hate this,” she asked lovingly.

“It’s ok.  I’ll be fine,” I reassured her and myself simultaneously.  “I’m just trying to right myself.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked.

I wasn’t even sure how to answer because I didn’t know what I needed.  I just didn’t feel right.  I wanted the water to be warmer.  I wanted the waves to be calmer.  I wanted the beach to be closer and the boat to be further from me.  I wanted to see the fish without putting my head under the water.  I wanted the life vest to keep me afloat without scratching my neck and suffocating me. Nothing was terrible but it just wasn’t right.

I tried.  God knows I truly did.  But getting back on that boat with a cocktail in my hand and the equipment far away from me put me at ease.  

Snorkeling in the cold waters of Cabo was like me trying to live a straight life.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t “right” myself.  I just never felt quite right.  Amid a life of safety and joyfulness I often still felt that I wasn’t enjoying it as much as those around me.  I was uncomfortable, on the verge of suffocating, and unable to live in the moment to see the beauty around me but was unable to articulate why.