I’m submerged fully underwater. My feet are touching the floor of the pool.

 All I have to do is take a step forward.

 But I can’t.

 I’m stuck. Frozen.Paralyzed.

 In my mouth is a scuba diving regulator. It is the first time I’ve ever used this thing.

Standing in front of me, Dani is looking me directly in the eyes. He pulls up a single arm, bent at the elbow and wrist. He motions his four fingers towards his body.

 “Come forward.”
  

I quickly nod my acknowledgment. Take a step, I got it. Only, I’m not moving.

 Not at all.

 Dani waits. He motions again. After a few minutes – he points his thumb up.

 We’re going up to the surface.

 I float up and yank the regulator out of my mouth.

“What happened?” Dani asks.

 My throat constricts. It feels swollen. I realize I’m going to start crying if I speak. So, I don’t say anything. Numb.

 “Are you okay?” 

 I nod.

I’m fighting back tears. All I can hear within my head are The Voices. 

You know the ones.  

You can’t do this. Maybe this is not for you. That’s okay. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Maybe you should just quit. You haven‘t made the payment. This is just day 1. If you can’t take a step in the shallow end of a pool, how are you going to go into the ocean? How? Maybe, maybe quitting now will be for the best.

“Alright – let’s go back.” 

Dani has popped back into view. He’s smiling a bit too much. His encouragement is so over the top, I can’t tell him I’m quitting. 

So, I go back in.  And without even thinking about it, I take one step forward. I take one step forward!

Within the next five hours, I was seven meters under water at Halik. Dani was holding my hand the entire time. I was terrified to even look up. But, oh my god – I was doing it. I was scuba diving. For hours, I was in a daze… remembering the beauty of it all. The yellowtail coris. The toothy baby white tipped reef shark sleeping under a huge rock. The protective clownfish. The handsomely fierce moray eel. 

Within a few weeks, I had got my Open Waters Diving Licence. A few more weeks, lots of diving – I got  my Advanced Open Waters Licence. 

Soon, I was inquiring about other dive sites and saying things like, ‘I’m a diver.’

The rest, as they say, is history…

That memory of the first moment in the pool has never left me.

I remember the ice-cold fear. 

The loudness of the silence. The oppressive imbolizing fear taking over my body. 

I remember how frustrating it is to try to do something new for the first time. 

Something that everyone else seems to do easily. Effortlessly. As if they were born their whole lives doing that.

I remember being stuck between the crosshairs of a primordial dilemma of survive versus explore.

My beautiful incredible strong body has always had access to air from my nose and my mouth. 

When I went down in the pool for the first time, my body was like – Ahhhhh! Oh, hell no. She’s dying. She’s going to die. Abort. Abort. Abort.

When I first start work with my clients, I remember my underwater freeze moment.

• When I ask a client to go to territory they’ve never explored with another. When I’m asking them to show me their work, to share their ideas, their soul with me I see some of them having a similar underwater freeze moment.

• When I ask my clients how they are doing? And my clients just keep quiet – I remember too how, I said nothing for fear of bursting into tears.

• When I see their faces contract, I can almost hear the voices in their head. Maybe writing your story isn’t your thing? Hey, you gave it a shot. Maybe you can do this on your own. Maybe you don’t really need to prove this or anything to anyone.

I do with my clients what Dani did for me all those days ago. 

He smiled. He was soft. He let me take a break. And then, we go back. He was firm. 

Gentle, kind, supportive and firm. 

There was never a moment when he forced me to do something or rushed me. He also didn’t let me quit.

That firm balance is what we need when we are starting something new. Especially something which we are terrified of. Something we have wanted to do all our life.

It’s an emotional rollercoaster when you start to put yourself out there. 

It’s genuinely difficult to show up in this hostile world. Your body may think it will die.

Here’s what I want you to keep in mind when you’re starting to write your life story – 

You are doing fine! 

The voices, the paralysis, the constricted throat. This is NORMAL.

The beginning is always the hardest. 

Don’t worry about the technical skills, you will develop them. Right now, tap into your reserves of emotional resiliency. You just need to keep going. 

Especially in the beginning. Especially on that first day. That first draft. That first recording. 

Keep your head down. Take all the time you need. 

And when you are not quite ready… come back into the water.

You got this. 

P.S. Are you starting something new? Read The Beginner’s Creed over and over and over again. (h/t to my sister Rhea P)