I can't dive alone and this is not one of those "I don't want to die alone" moments. OK, maybe to some degree it is, but I'd resent to admit that's just that...
Back from my second diving trip, my January got a little better. January for some reason has always been hard to me in the recent two years, sickness and worries in the family and all. And I'm not being sentimental here, just talking about real crappy things that one has to face in one's mundane life.
Anyway, the sunshine from Florida cheered me up a bit. Two days ago, I was on a boat in a spring river seeking for manatees. 79 degree, breezing, I had my new wetsuit on, thinking about the slightest chance that someday I'd have a real dive buddy on a trip like this. Hey, this time my dive buddy was my diving coach. I can't complain about that, but you know what I mean.
The next day on my first dive, I freaked out when water flushed into my mask while I was trying to clear it. I panicked and took a breath through my nose - yeah, I can be that stupid from time to time. I choked; for a split second, I thoguht I'd die on the 6th dive of my life. Of course I didn't, after ascending to the surface from 35 feet below. For the next ten minutes, dumbfounded, I couldn't do any basic skills, and that was until I saw this huge turtle in the water 5 feet above me. My coach said that was the moment I wrapped up myself and did everything I needed to do. I went down deeper from there, to 45 feet under. I'm telling you, I was still fearful, but aslo a little more fearless, even when I felt I was alone down there.
And here is to that.