Diving to a New Comfort Zone

drifters
Written By James Sam

A lifetime of breathing could’ve never prepared me for SCUBA diving. The autonomy of walking and breathing gets thrown out the window once you dip your toes into the grander world of water. Despite my initial fear and anxiety, SCUBA diving gave me a purpose to venture into the unknown.

My journey began at the Pacific Dive Center in Costa Rica with a two-week scuba certification course for 2-3 hours each day. The first week consisted of dive theory in a classroom setting. Our instructor, “Risky”, taught us various hand signals for underwater communication such as a thumbs up to signal the end of a dive. He also taught us certain safety measures, an important one being decompression stops. The deeper one dives, the more nitrogen the body absorbs. If not given enough time, unreleased nitrogen ends up forming gas bubbles in the bloodstream causing decompression sickness which may result in difficulty breathing and even death.

Dive theory now ingrained in us, practice with SCUBA equipment began the very next week in a nine-foot-deep swimming pool. We learned the giant stride technique for properly entering the water with our gear on, how to clear water out of our goggles, and the communication of air pressure levels through hand signals.

Weighed down by an oxygen tank, swimming felt incredibly laborious. Forced to break the habit of breathing through my nose, my regulator turned me into a mouth-breather. Transitioning from a size seven shoe to open-heel fins furthered my anxiety about plunging into the open water.

With two weeks of training under our belts, we set out to Playa Flamingo with our Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI) certifications. Playa Flamingo is a crescent-shaped beach with beautiful beige sands facing seemingly endless blue water. Just off the coast are the Islas Santa Catalina, known for its popular diving spots with undisturbed marine life and clear blue waters.

The ride to Islas Santa Catalina was nerve-wracking. Dressed in full SCUBA gear (minus regulator and goggles), my body already felt foreign to me. Standing on the edge of our boat, arms crossed like I was already dead, I set one foot out as if to trip a friend and hopped into the Pacific Ocean. 

My first dive felt very technical. As someone who is unreasonably laid-back, I suddenly turned into a forty-minute perfectionist. Most of my time was spent checking oxygen levels, depressurizing every time I felt a shift in pressure, and consciously regulating my breathing. 

Our first dive was scheduled to be an hour-long meaning we had to maintain an hour’s worth of oxygen. If not, everyone would have to surface. Keeping a good breathing pace while swimming and remaining focused on all the little tasks is no easy feat.

Luckily, I made it to the next day with a new-found comfort zone. My second dive was filled with anticipation and excitement. I was ready to take in the sights, float with fish and relax. I spent the majority of the time trying to ingratiate myself with sea animals to little success — though I did manage to momentarily join a school of fish. Alongside the fish, we saw some white-tip reef sharks, turtles, starfishes, and even a manta ray. Spending time with these animals as they nonchalantly went about their day felt surreal. Similar to how people see red when they’re angry, I saw the blue of serenity. 

I found myself a home away from home. In my eighteen years prior, I never expected a desire to be underwater, and this desire would have remained shrouded had I not ventured into the unknown. My SCUBA experience shed light on how things far outside of a person’s comfort zone may actually belong within it, and the only way to discover those things is to welcome them with open arms. 

 
James Sam
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