I cannot dive.
It’s pathetic, really. I just can’t do it.
I took swimming lessons as a kid, and at the end of every session it was the same story: “She’s supposed to dive to pass to the next level, but we’ll pass her this time as an exception.” It kept happening. I kept progressing in swimming, but I kept getting the diving exception.
I’m not really sure why I’m so afraid to dive. It looks so graceful and efficient and simple, really.
The truth is, I never dive into anything. I’m not one to jump head first — or feet first — into anything. I have to research and think and research some more and think some more. I stall so long that I forget to jump. And if you try to push me, I’ll probably belly flop. There will be no graceful dive.
There’s probably nothing wrong with being unable to dive into pools or life events. There are benefits to not being a risk taker. I get to avoid the consequences of big mistakes from decisions not well thought out.