The Hardest Decision Of My Life
Choosing not to dive anymore has been the hardest decision of my life. But let me start from the beginning.
Table of Contents
1.The Story | 2.The Therapies | 3.The Decision | 4.The Lessons
1. The Story
My parents tell me the first few times they took me to the beach, I was repulsed by the sand, and my mom wasn't sure I could be her child (joke!). But I got over that aversion and quickly became an ocean child. It started as a place to play, run, build sand castles, and swim in the sea. Then, at the age of eleven, I started the process of becoming scuba-certified. With my dad being a freelance scuba instructor, I was certified as a PADI Open Water Diver and almost immediately then an Advanced Open Water Diver. Unfortunately, diving was a holiday thing, and I averaged about eight dives a year until the age of eighteen. But, I always knew I wanted to become a Divemaster and spend more time underwater. Waiting the six long years to be of age for that certification was awful. I took the Enriched Air Diver and Freediving courses at seventeen, extending my dive times both with and without a tank. The first summer of university, I did my EFR, Rescue, Divemaster, Emergency Oxygen Provider, Deep Diver, Night Diver, Search and Recovery Diver, and Underwater Navigator courses and applied for the Master Scuba Diver rating. Gradually but definitively, I determined I wanted to become an Instructor. Now, mind you. I went from logging roughly sixty dives in seven-ish years to over forty in a summer. I was in mermaid heaven. But because I had just started university, I paused that goal, thinking it was better to finish one thing at a time. Well, COVID ramped up again, and after months of lockdown, sick family members, and school online, I decided I had enough. It was a blur- going from seeing an ad on Facebook for an Instructor Development Course, signing up, booking tickets, and flying down to Honduras. Then there I was, nineteen, on my first solo trip for three-and-a-half months. Again, I very subtly but definitively decided during the course that I was not going back to the US but instead was going to find a full-time job as an Instructor. So, I moved to Bonaire by myself and started applying for temporary residency. I absolutely loved what I was doing. The "honeymoon phase" lasted a really, really long time. And really, the issues that burst that bubble were industry-related and not teaching-related. But I quickly found out how much I enjoy teaching people things. And that I got to pair that with my passion for scuba was magic. However, only four months into it, I started to have chronic ear infections- something I had never dealt with before. Eventually, that led me to have a procedure on my ears for eustachian tube dysfunction because I could no longer equalize under pressure. The procedure solved the equalization problem, but I continued to get infections. I also got frequent headaches and migraines throughout this period, but I chalked it up to the fact I had a long-standing history of both. I would have the occasional reverse block and sinus pressure, but I largely ignored it. But I could no longer do that after this May. My doctors on the island suggested that I try coming off medications I had been on since I was fifteen for two of my three chronic invisible illnesses. The idea was, given the amount of time I'd been on them, hopefully, my body didn't need them anymore. I will save that story for another day. But ultimately, I did come off the medications, started to exercise regularly, eat healthier, drink more water, and sleep on schedule. I started feeling better than I had in years. But the time it took to get to that point, I was on sick leave from work; no diving. After seventy-five days, I went in the water. Two dives in two days with similar profiles. Both with sinus pressure, headaches immediately after ascent, and migraines within the hour. They lasted eighteen and thirty-six hours, respectively. After an hour-and-a-half-long conversation with a dive doctor, I returned to the US for yet another procedure- this time on my sinuses. Eight weeks of healing and out of the water. During that period, I tried to remain positive and hopeful, but the way I physically felt still made me prepare for the worst. I first tried a freediving session; equalization was fine, but I had a noticeably worse headache after. I tried scuba diving; thirteen minutes in with a severe headache building, mild reverse block on the ascent, and a migraine that lasted six days. I had residual headaches, a short migraine, tension, pressure, and overall pain for another two-and-a-half weeks. That solidified the decision I had to make. No amount of happiness and joy I get from diving and teaching is worth this. I have pushed my body from the beginning; ear infections, worsened headaches and migraines, sinus blockages... I feel like I've been trying to convince my body to dive for two years, and it's high time I listen to her saying, "No. Not like this." Maybe my body just needs time, less frequency of diving, or something none of my doctors have found or suggested.
2. The Therapies
In the past two-plus years, I have seen over fifteen doctors, had over ten different tests run, had two procedures, done everything my doctors (and Google) have suggested, and changed my exercise, diet, sleep, and medication. I have journaled, cried, ranted, screamed, breathed, meditated, ran, punched bags, done cold therapy, chiropractic, and massage therapy. I have controlled every piece of my health and lifestyle that I can. I have made drastic changes to my health for the better. I have researched for hours on possible causes and explanations. I have vented to friends and asked for advice. But I feel like none of it was enough because my body is still not reacting to the underwater environment the way I want.
3. The Decision
So, I have decided to put diving on hold for an indefinite amount of time, which both scares me and provides peace. I'm not giving up on scuba; I'm prioritizing my health. I want to remember diving as the happy place that it always has been for me, and not a place of pain and fear for discomfort. I will continue to fight for answers to why this has been happening, and I will continue to push for more research in dive medicine. But. I'm done pushing my body right now. It's had enough. I've had enough. Physically and emotionally. I'm tired of pushing just to end in pain with no positive results. But that is scarier than anything I've ever done. Since becoming an Instructor, I have been working towards my goal of becoming a PADI Course Director. Even with roughly eight months out of the water since September 2021, I have amassed over five-hundred-and-fifty "official" dives (iykyk) on Bonaire, processed three-hundred-and-five certifications, became an Instructor in twenty-eight specialties, rose to the rank of Master Instructor, and fallen deeper in love with the sea. All the while, I was finishing university online for the first year-and-a-half, volunteering on Saturdays for the Junior Ranger Program, and trying to stay social. At the risk of sounding egotistical, I have accomplished a lot in the last two years. I have learned so many lessons, in and out of the water, scuba-related and not. I have changed as a person, grown, and flourished. But I have also spent countless nights crying in pain, curled up in a ball, and just hoping for something to fix magically. I have also spent hours in doctors' offices, explaining my story, and being told to just "go home and rest." I have also spent hundreds of minutes staring in the mirror, asking myself if diving is worth this constant battle for my health. I finally answered, "no." That was both a relief and the scariest decision I've ever made. I moved out of the country solo at nineteen, finished university early despite COVID and moving, leaped into a relationship that was statistically bound for more difficulty than most, and grinded after a goal like my life depended on it to be the youngest one to get there. But choosing to not dive anymore has been the scariest. It's so much more than just not going underwater.
4. The Lessons
Diving, and the sea in general, has been my happy place ever since I can remember. It's been my sacred place. I learned of my passion for teaching while floating on the water's surface. I was taught lessons of power and submission by watching the waves crashing over each other. I created plans for my future while swimming with the fish and hearing the crackling of the reef. This is now the first time in my life I've ever not known what's next or what I want. This is the first time I'm actually terrified of the unknown. I've jumped off a boat dozens of miles offshore into the abyss, and I was more sure and comfortable with that than this period I'm in right now. Scuba is scary to so many, but it's my safe place. I'm having to learn to be okay with the unknown and take it as an adventure. I'm having to convince myself that I haven't failed. I'm having to force myself into believing that not knowing can be a good thing and that it's not a lack of discipline. I'm learning so many lessons all at once because of something completely out of my control. That's scary too. That I feel I have no control; I've done everything I can, but it wasn't enough. So, here's to mid-life crises in my twenties, figuring it out as I go, and having random meltdowns when I think I'm okay again. I know I'll get there. To the place I need to be. But boy, if I had any clue as to where that is, that would be nice.
Reminding myself of my power and grace.