Anxiety when learning to scuba dive is more commonplace than some people may think. As a scuba diving instructor, I can tell you that every single one of my students have had some sense of anxiety while learning to dive, all at different levels. I know this because they have all opened up to me before, during or after their training; and as an instructor I can not stress enough, how important it is to make students feel as comfortable as possible to let you know how they are feeling. There are tell-tale signs to look out for also, particularly the need to pay extra attention to diving equipment and the discomfort being blamed on any and everything else, but the anxiety.
I know only too well what anxiety and scuba diving feels like and I also know nearly every trick in the book on how to supposedly hide it, because I’ve been there and done it. Despite getting through my skills with relative ease in the pool sessions as an Open Water Student, I had a full-blown panic attack while undertaking the mask removal and clear skill during my open water dive. It started with the simple mistake of breathing in through my nose instead of out while trying to clear the mask. I had never had a panic attack before and to be honest, I would do most anything to never go through an experience like that again. Blind panic literally feels like what I imagine dying from a heart attack feels like. The sudden and urgent pounding in my chest can only be described as though the one organ keeping me alive wanted to push itself out of my body at such force that it would literally fly out of my body, my eyes felt like they were the size of my whole face, while the racing and jumbling of my thoughts made no sense at all and caused me to throw the only thing providing me with life-sustaining oxygen; my regulator; out of my mouth as I scrambled from 12 metres depth to the surface as quickly as I possibly could to breath air naturally.
Fortunately for me, my instructor’s training kicked in immediately as he forced the regulator back in my mouth with one hand and grabbed my weight belt with the other, fanning out with his legs and fins to slow my rapid ascent. Slowly, as I came out of my panic, my thoughts and heart beat subsiding, I realised that I could see light and quite literally thought to myself that it was true, “there is a shining light before you die.” I kid you not. That light of course, was in fact the sun’s rays making their way through the waves as I came close to surfacing, and as soon as I did, I found myself having a snorkel put in my mouth and being told to life face down back in the waters that had almost taken my life. This was not where I wanted to be. But I could hear the urgency in the voices of the crew on our support vessel whose job it was to ensure the safety of their passengers and knew that this was for my own good. As I floated face down, peering through my mask at my fellow students completing their skills, one of which was my very concerned husband, my mask filled with tears as I realised that I had failed my skills, that I had made a complete idiot of myself and that I had put myself and others at risk. I was highly embarrassed – to the extent of mortification.
It took me almost a year to feel comfortable enough in open water to pass the skill of full mask removal and clear and eleven years later, I still experience some anxiety in the water. My usual go-to is to blame my ears for my unwillingness to trick I have learnt that takes my mind away from the swirling thoughts of the myriad of things that can go wrong under water, is to focus my attention well and truly on my gauges and answer a set of questions I have at the ready; what depth are we at, how much air is left in my tank, how long have I been diving for, can I breathe easily and where is my buddy? I have done this so often now, that I can almost predict the responses. I am usually at around 14 metres when the anxiety kicks in, I generally have ample air, I have usually been diving less than five minutes and 100% of the time can breath easily. The last question is usually the decider on what I do next. I haven’t bolted to the surface for over 10 years and usually I find the anxiety subsides within a minute or faster if there is marine life around me.
I am fortunate. My anxiety is manageable, temporary and does not need medication to control. I have spoken to countless medical professions regarding my anxiety and they have all felt comfortable with my decision to continue facing my fears underwater.
Having experienced what I have, I am more aware of when others are feeling anxious also. One student told me straight away of her anxiety regarding the full mask removal and clear, so we practised this skill numerous times in the pool, teaching different techniques to feel more at ease before heading to the open water. She passed the skill first go. Another student kept blaming her mask, snorkel and ears throughout the session. Eventually I found that her safe word was “uncomfortable” rather than “anxious” or using the term anxiety and I was able to have a direct conversation with her about how I felt her levels of uncomfortability in the water was directly impacting her pool sessions before stating that I felt the uncomfortability was also a part of her thought processes. She agreed and we discussed the various approaches to make her more comfortable throughout her training without jeopardising her ultimate outcome; to dive in the open water.
Every day I am grateful for my own experiences; they have made me a more rounded instructor. I am also grateful for the quick thinking and life-saving actions taken by my own instructor and that he didn’t attempt to control my panic by holding me down while the panic attack subsided. I do believe our class may have seen some superwoman strength had this happened. I potentially may have given up scuba diving also, which would have been a huge loss given that I am now involved in marine conservation due to my scuba diving experiences.
An anxious diver needs patience, time and attention. They also need to feel like they can talk to you about how they are feeling in a safe space without being judged. Trust me, they are already judging themselves more harshly than anyone else ever will. My best advise for anyone who notices a diver feeling nervous about their training is to request that they hold back a bit from the rest of the class and to offer personal one-on-one training or to request the assistance of a fellow dive professional to assist the class while paying special attention to the needs of that one student. Helping anxious scuba divers can be the most rewarding training experience you can go through, but it is up to us as instructors to make it that way.