The moment the instructor said that I was going down he deflated my compensator gear that made me float. I sank. The initial feeling of a weight belt in proportion of 10% of my body weight pulling me into the sea was the same as I imagined my white rats suffered during my researchs in the lab. I felt sorry for them, it was for the science, but I won't do it anymore in this life.
There was only 50 cm to the surface, the first 5 minutes of adaptation (baptism) diving, artificial respiration underwater ensure my survival. But the fear of running out of air and the anxiety got me. I tried for a few seconds to dominate my mind and not think about all the factors like artificial respiration, 5 millimeters wetsuit without mobility, scuba tank on my back, the immensity of turbid water, I could not think clearly, my "diving bell". I was struggling with myself to go up and could not barely remember the sign to go up. Instructor pulled me up. On the surface I took the regulator of air out of my mouth desperately.
"I need to survive the diving bell of my anxiety." The butterfly has to leave the cocoon overcoming the force of coward thoughts. I went down with the courage that everything depends only on me. I concentrated on breathing and waited fascinated and curious to see what I was going to know in bottom of the sea.
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