What Jumping in a Pool Taught Me About Fear, Comfort Zones, and Courage
I don’t know exactly when I stopped jumping in pools, but it was more than a decade ago. Probably closer to 15 years. Yes, really.
Why did I stop? I have a few theories:
Maybe I convinced myself that the shock of the cold water wasn’t worth it.
Maybe I had a bad experience or two.
Maybe having babies meant that swimming stopped being about playing in the water and started being about keeping them alive.
(Maybe all those things).
Whatever the reason, one day I realized that I’d become a person who inched my way into the pool. Sometimes I didn’t get in at all.
I never jumped into the water. Not. Ever.
And eventually, jumping into the pool became a foreign concept. It was something other people did.
Me? I just…didn’t. I stopped even considering the option.
It took me until last year to finally realize this, and once I saw the truth, I knew that this was a symptom of a much bigger problem:
I never jumped into anything.
My first and only priority for years was feeling safe and comfortable. And I was good at it — I stopped exploring, stopped playing, stopped reaching out.
I shrunk so small that I barely knew myself anymore. But while I felt “safe,” I sure wasn’t happy. A part of me was dying. A part of me was screaming.
A part of me really, really wanted to jump into that pool.
So, that day, after all those years, I decided to go for it. I stood on the side. I looked at the water. I mentally prepared myself to jump…
And then I was seized with gut-wrenching panic. Every cell in my body screamed “DON’T DO IT! IT’S SCARY! IT’LL SUCK! GO BACK TO THE STAIRS!”
(I understand logically that this is ridiculous, and that people jump into pools all the time. I get it. I got it at the time, too. But I was still terrified.)
For a solid 5 minutes, I hesitated on the edge of that pool.
“I want to jump”
“I’m so freaking scared”
“What if it sucks?”
“What if I look ridiculous?”
“What if I somehow trip and fall and die while jumping into this 5-foot-deep pool?”
“I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m SCARED.”
The fear was deafening. It froze me in an agonized state between launching and retreating. It got worse and worse. It was almost unbearable.
Until…
Until I took a deep breath, pushed through the panic…and threw myself into that pool.
I said no to the fear. I said no to letting it limit me. I was so tired of feeling small and scared and anxious. I refused to believe that this was all there was to me.
I jumped.
…and immediately got water up my nose. Oops.
But even though the water up the nose was unpleasant, I was ecstatic. I did the thing!
I tried it again. The second time was better. It was easier. I remembered to hold my nose. It was FUN!
Relief washed over me (along with the water). I jumped in again and again, delighted with myself and with life in general. My kids thought I’d lost my mind. They didn’t realize that I hadn’t lost anything — I’d found it. A part of me had come back home.
This post isn’t really about swimming. It’s about saying yes to life.
It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged for myself. I’ve had ideas for posts. I’ve jotted down notes. I’ve talked about doing it. I’ve started drafts. I’ve tiptoed around it. I’ve stepped to the edge and peered in.
I’ve been absolutely freaking terrified.
But now, as I sit here feeling the fear, hearing the (internal) screaming, I remember that day in the hotel pool.
I acknowledge the fear. But part of me (a slowly growing part) understands that the terror I feel before I leap into something — that’s actually the worst part. This moment before I hit the publish button…or press send on an email…or say yes to a new challenge…or jump in the pool…this is the part that’s scariest.
The magic happens when I do it anyway.
The magic happens when I jump.
Sure, the water may be cold, I may get some up my nose…but those experiences aren’t forever. And that’s how I learn. That’s how I grow. That’s how I turn the terrifying into the normal.
I still have a lot of growing to do. I made myself so, so small for all those years.
But it’s a start.
Just gotta jump.