"Try explaining to a family that used to waterski in the Everglades that you're afraid a fish might be plotting your downfall in a lake ."
When my whole body starts tingling and I can no longer think rationally, it usually means that I am standing in front of a large body of open water and someone is encouraging me to jump in.
Growing up, I have always been afraid of the ocean. Which is slightly ironic, considering that I absolutely love the beach. I just don't love what is in the water. Or more accurately, what my imagination thinks is in the water.
I only really dare to go in once everyone else is and my panic-filled brain has been reassured that there are no sharks, killer octopuses, or any other creatures waiting specifically for me.
And while open water happens to be my irrational fear, everyone fears something. Something they avoid.
Something that makes their heart race.
Something they know is probably harmless but still feels impossible.
This blog post is by no means a step-by-step guide on how to completely overcome your fears. I simply want to share a few things that have helped me slowly get better at facing mine.
Funny enough, my boyfriend's hometown sits right at Lake Constance and for them there's absolutely nothing better than swimming in that very lake. Now, try explaining to a family that used to waterski in the Everglades that you're afraid a fish might be plotting your downfall in a lake.
Let me tell you—they don't get it. And honestly, I don't blame them.
What genuinely scare me: 1. not to see the bottom, 2. to see the bottom & see how freaking deep it is, 3. touching the bottom, 4. not being able to touch anything at all
– great requirements I know haha
So Paul's family kindly takes me places where the water is crystal clear, and I can see the bottom, but it is only slightly deeper than I am tall, so I won't accidentally touch it.
I think figuring out exactly what scares you and then finding a slightly less terrifying version of it is a helpful first step.
Once I'm in the water, Paul does everything possible to make sure my brain focuses on something other than the imaginary sea monster that is apparently after me.
That means we play memory games, he asks me about the latest Kardashian gossip, and sometimes even plays mermaids with me.
Even though I know exactly where I am and why I'm afraid, it becomes so much easier when my attention is somewhere else.
Another thing I appreciate is that he encourages & challenges me, however he always accepts my boundaries.
There is a huge difference between motivation and pressure. Tell people your boundaries beforehand so they don't cross the line.
And lastly, when I decide I've had enough and want to get out of the water he swims next to me, tells where to put my feet and makes sure I get out safely.
Having someone support you from the start to the end —not just the main event. Because if something goes wrong at the very end, it can feel like all your progress disappears.
Do I suddenly become a fearless water sports enthusiast? Absolutely not. But at least now I actually jump into the water. And honestly, that's progress.
Get up.
Do the thing you've been avoiding for the longest time.
Don't expect the fear to disappear after one attempt. It takes time. It takes courage over and over again.
But the version of you on the other side will be very glad you did.
