I’m functional. I do fine, most of the time. I even excel at some things. Things like writing, and being a mom (even though I approach it will a big dose of irreverence and dark humor).
I excel at the things I’m passionate about.
But I’m almost always a little anxious and distracted. It’s part of who I am. I’ve learned to compensate for it. I’ve adapted.
But getting my diving certification was what made me acutely aware of my anxiety. It made it unavoidable, how enmeshed it is ilwith my everyday life.
It made it clear by showing me my happy place. Which is, apparently, 60 feet below the surface of the ocean, hugging a rock, with 60 pounds of lead in my pocket.
I finally got my manta night dive footage uploaded. I’m certainly no Steven Spielberg, I don’t mind telling you.
But I can say without a moment’s hesitation that this is where I was most happy so far in my entire life. Ironically enough, it’s here beneath the water that I find it easiest to breathe.