So, years ago, I recognized my obsession with scuba diving would need its own creative outlet. Somewhere I could log, blog, and share my enthusiasm for the ocean in general.
It’s taken a global pandemic called COVID-19 to force me to sit with my laptop long enough to actually figure out how this outlet will take shape. For once, I have a very long surface interval with not much else to do either. For most people visiting this site, you likely know me. I am very much extroverted, with limitless ideas and limited time. Therefore, I’ll take advantage of being stuck with my computer.
I think the most important thing to share, first and foremost, is how I started diving.
When I was a young child (somewhere around six or seven years old), I was adamant about becoming a marine biologist. I knew nothing other than that I loved sea animals and swimming in the ocean during our annual, two-week family trips to North Myrtle Beach; however, anyone who asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up would get the “marine biologist” response. I had not a few, but dozens of stuffed animals ranging from dolphins, to manatees, to sharks. I even wrote and illustrated a book about sharks (okay, it was just drawings of sharks I knew with one fact about each).
By the time I was nine years old, my parents allowed me to utilize my time during our Myrtle Beach vacations to attend a two-day marine biology camp at Ripley’s Aquarium. Kid me thought this was heaven: two days of running around the “behind-the-scenes” areas of Ripley’s and learning about anything and everything they had there. One activity in particular was participating in a PADI Bubblemaker program, where there was a short classroom learning session about scuba diving, followed by a pool dive with instructors.
I always joke about how bad my memory is, because I can barely remember basic things from five years ago, let alone my childhood. But even 21 years later, I remember taking my first breath underwater. I remember the shape of the pool, and where my gear was set up. I remember the tie-dye bathing suit I was wearing. I remember going over hand signals at the surface. And then I went underwater, and just breathed. There was something so natural about it, like I had been missing a part of me all along. I knew I would have to find a way to get back underwater again.
Now, the rest of the session I couldn’t recall much about. I remember having buoyancy issues (though whether that was due to not having my BCD fully deflated or needing more weights, I couldn’t tell you). I received a little Bubblemaker “certification card,” which to this day stays with all of my most important items.
Luckily, I had such a fun time at camp and begged to return, that the following year, my parents sent my sister (who had very little interest in these things) to camp with me. Looking back, I realize that my parents probably wanted time to themselves for a couple days of vacation, but it was still very appreciated. Once again, I was afforded the opportunity to scuba dive in the pool, and reunite with my love.
That was the last year I attended camp, though I was able to attend a science camp the following year in which I took a marine biology class for two weeks (no scuba diving, but I did dissect a squid and a shark). Really, after I attended camp at Ripley’s, there was very little thought towards continuing on with my diving education. As a kid growing up in West Virginia, there wasn’t anywhere for me to dive, and I never traveled to any clear water area until I was much older. In college, I came dangerously close to fulfilling my dreams of becoming scuba certified when I found out that there was a 1-credit course offered in the spring, but found out it didn’t fit into my schedule.
Fast forward to late 2016. I had moved down to Raleigh in late 2015 and didn’t know a soul. By 2016, I was starting to get comfortable with my coworkers, at least enough to strike up conversations with pretty much everyone in the common areas. On a day that I will forever claim changed my life, I was talking with a coworker who mentioned she is scuba certified. I immediately shared about the time I was able to dive and always swore I would get certified when I was an adult. I also mentioned that I wanted to wait until I was somewhere that had accessible diving. She shared with me that she got certified in North Carolina and that there are tons of diving sites off our coast. Hell, it’s actually one of the most famous coasts for shipwrecks in the world. And again I felt that spark within me, something bubbling up telling me I have to do it. So, I made a promise to her and to myself that when I had the money, I would get certified.
Which brings me to April 2017. I was doing well in my commission-based job, and had made a lot of friends in Raleigh. I really felt like an adult and was finally able to start enjoying my successes. Two of my friends and I scheduled a trip to St. Martin for May, and I felt on top of the world. I was keeping track of a personal budget, and had been saving my money well. I didn’t forget that pestering voice in the back of my mind that constantly told me to work towards getting scuba certified, so I decided it was time to do my research. I did most of my research online about local scuba shops, and narrowed it down to two choices (by the way, if you’re ever in landlocked Raleigh, you will be amazed at how many scuba centers there are). From there, I called both stores and by the end of both conversations, decided the one I was going to go to in person to check out.
I went later in the same week on a lunch break. The shop was about 20 minutes from my office, so I knew I only had 20 minutes to spend there. It was the coolest store I’ve ever set foot in. Masks and fins hung from every wall, and there were posters and pictures of coral and fish everywhere. There were giant fossilized sharks’ teeth in a case. I already knew as soon as I set foot in there that I would be signing up for the course. I spent the entire 20 minutes trying to figure out what class dates worked with my schedule, and I left with my course pack and returned immediately to work with a smile on my face.
I’m sure that was enough reading for anyone out there who actually cares about my history in diving, so I’ll spare details on the actual course for a later time. I think it was important that I was a thalassophile from a young age, and molded my priorities as an adult. But I also mourn for the years I lost that I could have been certified and learning about the ocean from under the surface. Either way, I believe everything happens for a reason, in its own time, and am just ecstatic with where I ended up.
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