I Still Remember My First Ever Dive

I was peak enthu cutlet—geared up, overexcited, fully convinced I was about to have one of those life-changing underwater moments. You know, full ZNMD feels.

Umm yeah… that’s not how it went.

The moment I started descending, my body decided it was absolutely not on board with this plan. My ears and sinuses felt like they were under attack. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t equalise. The pressure kept building, turning excitement into sharp, unbearable pain.

And then it got worse.

When I surfaced, I was coughing up blood.

Not exactly the magical first dive experience I had imagined.

Round Two… Because Obviously I Didn’t Learn

Now here’s where it gets questionable.

For some reason, I was convinced I’d get it right on the second dive the same day. (Competitive spirit can cause serious damage, people.)

Logic? Missing.

Also, my dive buddy was dependent on me. If I backed out, she’d have to skip the dive too. And that I didn’t want—more than anything—that pushed me right back into the water.

Big mistake.

I forced my way through the dive despite the pain, ignoring everything my body was screaming at me.

This time, when I surfaced?

Blood. Again. But now also from my nose.

I later found out I could’ve easily burst my eardrums that day.

And the worst part? Somewhere in between all that chaos, I did see beautiful coral and marine life… but I couldn’t enjoy a single second of it.

I Thought That Was The End of Diving

For a while, I was done.

Mentally checked out. Filed diving under: “Bilkul riks nahi lenaka.”

But here’s the funny thing about fear—it doesn’t really leave you alone. It just sits there, quietly poking at you.

A few months later, as fate would have it, I found myself back at the same dive spot.

And I had a choice.

Walk away… or try again.

The Dive That Changed Everything

I chose to go back in.

Not because I felt ready. Not because I was confident. But because I didn’t want that fear to win.

And somehow… everything clicked.

The same ocean that felt hostile before suddenly felt calm. The same descent that once brought pain now felt effortless. And for the first time, I actually experienced what diving was supposed to feel like.

Peaceful. Surreal. Addictive.

That one dive changed everything.

I haven’t looked back since.

From Fear to Slightly Overexcited Diver

Fast forward to today—I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve dived.

And somehow, every single time feels just as magical.

And every single time I get way too excited seeing a turtle. I wave, smiling like an idiot inside my mask, probably screaming… and of course, water starts seeping in.

Worth it.

The Part Most People Don’t Know

Here’s the real backstory.

I wasn’t just “bad at diving.”

I was terrified of water.

As a kid, and well into adulthood, I carried that fear quietly. I hid it well—because how do you admit that you’re a trip leader who’s scared of water?

Meanwhile, I watched people jump into oceans, swim in waterfalls, and move through water like it was second nature… and I envied that freedom.

After that dive incident, something shifted.

I decided I wasn’t going to live like that anymore.

So I did something I never thought I would—I learned how to swim. In December. In the cold. No excuses.

And somewhere along the way… I became a complete water baby.

Full Circle

Today, I’m a certified open water diver.

But more than that, I’m someone who no longer lets fear quietly run the show.

And if there’s one thing diving taught me, it’s this:

Sometimes the most beautiful experiences lie on the other side of the things that scare you the most. You just have to be willing to go back in.

If This Sounds Like You…

If you’ve ever:

  • Stood at the edge of something and felt that hesitation
  • Talked yourself out of an experience you secretly wanted
  • Or carried a fear you’ve just learned to live with

I get it. More than you think.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s time to change that.

I lead trips for people who want more than just a holiday. People who want to feel something, push their edges a little, and come back with stories they didn’t think they were capable of.

If that sounds like your kind of travel… come join me on one of my trips.

Let’s get you your own version of “My fear doesn’t define me. I am more than my fear.”