The Fear I Conquered

When I was seven, I fell face-first into a tidepool. There I was—soggy, sandy, nose-to-nose with a sea urchin, clutching a starfish I had absolutely no business trying to pry from its home. My family was just a few feet away, laughing under the California sun, oblivious to the emotional wounds that moment would leave me with. While the tidepool itself didn’t bite, sting, or chew on me, something about all those slippery, skittering creatures sent my nervous system into full DEFCON mode. From that day on, I had a simple rule: no slimy things near me, ever.

Fast forward a few decades, and I had mostly avoided all confrontations with my irrational slimy-creature phobia, which I convinced myself was totally normal. (We all have our quirks, right? Some people refuse to touch raw chicken; I refused to dip my toes into water if there was even a rumor of seaweed.) That was until one fateful day in my mid-20s when I signed up for a scuba diving class to impress someone. Yes, I voluntarily faced my slimy nemesis for love—or at least the possibility of it. Isn’t it amazing what someone’s smile and laconic texts like, “U dive?” can make you do? But to my surprise, what started as an effort to impress turned into one of the most empowering moments of my life.

Weird Phobias: We All Have Them

Let’s get real—fear looks ridiculous as soon as you say it out loud. You know this if you’ve ever watched a rom-com where the protagonist insists they’ll “never fly coach again,” like that’s a relatable problem. My phobia—a visceral dread of non-human squidgy things—might sound niche, but don’t be fooled. Fear, ridiculous as it may seem, has an uncanny way of shaping who we are and, hilariously, what we avoid.

For years, I orchestrated my life around this comfort zone. Seafood restaurants? I learned to fake a shellfish allergy. Snorkeling tours? “Oh, I sunburn easily. You go ahead.” I had no interest in seaweed wraps, slime-infused skincare, or venturing anywhere where creatures that wriggled might say hello. Eventually, my avoidance became second nature, a perfectly curated system with zero slime exposure. My family teased me for it, my friends barely noticed it, and I thought I was totally fine as long as I stayed far, far away from my coastal arch-nemeses.

But as it turns out, fear has a funny way of holding you back in ways you never quite expect. By brushing up against the edges of my comfort zone (or instead, running away from every opportunity to examine it), I was saying “no” to a version of my life where I was just a little braver. Think about that for a second—what tiny no’s are you saying that might amount to something big?

Love (And Pride) Made Me Do It

Now, let me introduce you to David. David was the kind of guy who could parallel park on the first try and name random constellations like that wasn’t objectively impressive. Free-spirited but somehow also a tax accountant, he had this effortless way of owning his quirks. Somewhere in our early flirtation, I learned he was a certified scuba diver.

One fateful night over tacos, he mentioned signing up for a weekend diving trip off Catalina Island. My head said, “Say no and ghost.” But my heart—and my ego—won. “That’s so funny,” I blurted out. “I’ve actually always wanted to scuba dive.”

Spoiler alert: I hadn’t. I lied. Badly. But not badly enough for David to notice, because two weeks later I found myself stuffed into a wetsuit while a bright-eyed instructor chirped about fish identification charts. It felt like I was starring in some terrible comedy no one asked for—“The Girl Who Hates Squidgy Things Goes Underwater (for Love).”

Sinking In and Letting Go

There’s a funny thing about conquering fear. You don’t actually get to do it all at once. It starts incrementally, in micro-moments that demand your attention. For me, it started in the pool, where we practiced basic scuba skills like breathing through a regulator (not too hard), clearing your mask of water (mild panic), and pretending to enthusiastically buddy-check your gear when your “buddy” has a calm, handsome face that you're obviously trying to impress.

Then came the ocean dive. As soon as I slipped below the surface, the noise of the world disappeared. The water enveloped me in a muffled silence, that vast, endless blue stretching out in every direction. It should have been peaceful. Serene, even. Instead, my pulse raced like I was running a marathon through a field of electric eels. What if something brushed against my leg? What if a creature I couldn’t see was lurking nearby? What if my mask came off and I accidentally kissed a jellyfish?

But then, something magical happened. My first encounter underwater wasn’t terrifying—it was mesmerizing. A sea turtle glided past with the kind of effortless grace that made me forget I was, you know, awkwardly clinging to survival by way of pressurized oxygen. Schools of fish darted in synchronized swirls, their movements as poetic as a line in Joan Didion’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem.” I was part of this living, breathing ecosystem, whether I liked it or not. And honestly? I liked it.

The slimy creatures I’d spent a lifetime avoiding didn’t seem so slimy anymore. The nudibranchs (Google it—it’s worth a peek) were like weirdly glamorous undersea drag queens. Even the anemones, which had previously ranked low on my imaginary list of “Animals I’d Like to Befriend,” seemed kind of chill.

What the Ocean Taught Me About Fear

Coming face-to-face with your fears doesn’t mean you suddenly become best friends with them. (Let the record show: I still won’t hug an octopus. Baby steps, okay?) But what I stopped doing was letting my fear control me.

Fear is a funny thing. It’s not always the dramatic scream you hear in horror movies. Sometimes, it’s quieter—a persistent, nagging voice in your head telling you not to bother. “You’ll embarrass yourself.” “What’s the point anyway?” When you listen to that voice long enough, you create your own glass box. It feels safe, but nothing grows there.

So here’s my unsolicited advice, straight from the girl who now willingly encounters sea cucumbers: Whatever that thing is—the thing you’ve been making excuses about, avoiding for years—do it. Not because you’ll automatically love it, but because facing it will teach you something about yourself. You might even laugh at how long you’ve let it shadow you. That fear you’ve been carting around? It’s just as slimy as a sea slug—gross at first but, when you get down to it, surprisingly harmless.

Diving Deeper Into Life

After that Catalina trip, David and I only dated for a couple of months. (As it turns out, he was not as effortless when emergency emails from his boss started rolling in.) But what I gained from my time with him—and the Phobia-Busting Scuba Adventure™—was a far greater relationship: the one I built with myself.

Facing fear doesn’t always mean you’ll overcome it. Instead, you’ll learn how to swim beside it, let it drift away from your path, or—if you’re like me—laugh at how small it looks when you get a little distance. Growth will almost always feel awkward before it feels good, but the awkward part is where the magic lives.

So, dive deep—whether into the ocean or into that thing you’ve been too afraid to try. You don’t have to do it perfectly, just braver than you were before.

And above all, let’s all agree on one thing: sea cucumbers are way cooler than we give them credit for.