Hello,
I'd like to tell you my story about how I recovered from a panic attack ... and didn't give up diving! To the more experienced, this incident will seem trivial. But to me it was profound and shook my self-confidence very badly.
First off, I think it's woth noting that I was a relatively inexperienced diver (20 dives) and I'd resumed diving after a 4 year break during which I did not dive once and had even sold my kit. When I decided I wanted to dive again, I found a local dive centre, went through a scuba review and then booked myself on dry-suit and nitrox speciality courses. On the weekend of the dives, my instructor and I made our way to a nearby quarry where we would do 2 drysuit dives on Nitrox. The following day, we would bimble around a couple of wrecks that had been sunk in the quarry.
The first dive started well, three of us - Instructor, DM and I - descended to about 6m (20ft) and ran through the drysuit drills. Once this was done the instructor suggested a bearing to a nearby wreck and, a little tired but confident, I agreed. We bimbled around the little wreck and squeezed in a "I'm the king of the world" before a quick pressure check showed that it was time to go. After nearly 30 minutes of diving, I was quite relieved that we were heading to the end. This had my first "real" dive in a drysuit with the ankle weights and along with a complete lack of bouyancy control I was feeling pretty tired.
A quick check of my air showed that I was heading into the red area on my SPG (50bar) and, my instructor - seeing this - decided to offer me his reg for a buddy share. This is where things went tits-up. I opened my mouth and put his reg in. Unfortunately, I forgot to exhale when my reg was out and suddenly cold water was filling my mouth.
Panic.
The panic itself was sudden. I was immediately aware that I was in a very hostile environment. I was underwater in some godforsaken quarry and not at home with my wife and children. The possibility of drowining seemed very very real. I had my instructors reg in my mouth but in my panicked state, I was not concentrating on locking my lips around the mouthpiece and so was taking in more water. I distinctly remember looking up and seeing the bright shimmer of the surface. That's where I wanted to be. Without a seconds hesitation, from 15m(50ft) I bolted for it.
Fortunately, my Instructor had anticipated this and already had a firm grip on my BC straps and was keeping me down. While I frantically signaled that I wanted to ascend (I think I was yelling blue murder at him through the reg at the same time), my instructor was calmly looking at me and signalling "no" and "get control of your breathing". This was hard, but certain messages kept pinging into my mind telling me that I knew how to dive, that my instructor knew what he was doing, that I was going to be ok. Slowly, I managed to get control of my breathing, and locked my lips around the reg so that I was no longer taking on water.
I looked around me and saw the DM off to one side, calmly ready to step in if needed. My instructor could see that I was back in control and I signaled an OK. He shook my hand and signaled an ascent. The ascent with safety stop passed uneventfully and I was very happy to surface.
In the hotel that night, during a bout of insomnia, I decided that I would never dive again. The risks are too great.
The next morning, I went down to breakfast and met the rest of the group who were sitting around the breakfast table sharing diving stories, making jokes and the the cruel-but-harmless banter that divers are so good at. I realised that this was my hobby and that. I wasn't sure I wanted to call it a day.
It was interesting that thoughts of getting in the water again were clouded by fear. I would replay in my mind, over and over again, those seconds underwater where I felt trapped and in genuine peril. This was something that nobody could talk me down from. All the well meaning comments of "you'll be ok" and "just jump on back in" were very welcome but they did not remove this shroud of fear.
I decided though that I was going to "man up" and get back in the water. And on that Sunday, I did a couple of shallow dives. I was terrified. My mind was running at a 1000rpm during these dives. Every action - every instant - seemed loaded with peril. Descending, ascending, equalizing, finning, using my dive light, checking my guage... everything... seemed dangerous and I could see points of failure everywhere. Still, without any sense of pleasure and with lots of support from my buddies, I made it through those two dives and I went home and had a long long talk with my wife.
In the weeks that followed, it became clear that the point of failure was me. The incident had occurred because I was out of practice, my skills were lacking and I had let myself become fatigued. All of this had contributed not only to the initial error, but to the panic that followed.
Once I got that, I realised that there was something that could be done and that I wouldn't have to give up something that I remembered having a deep passion for. So, I went down to the pool and started running through my skills over and over again: bouyancy, finning, mask off, free flow, regs out. I must have spent about 3 hours underwater over two or three days doing this before I went back to the quarry and dived again.
This time, there was still a sense of fear but it was much reduced. I enjoyed 4 safe dives but still felt a little uneasy and wasnt entirely disappointed to get out of the water at the end of the day.
Finally, a few days later, the opportunity came up to go on a decent wreck dive off the southern coast of England. It would be a boat trip with a DM and a buddy. I have always liked wrecks and so I agreed to go. The night before was rather sleepless and I felt a little nervous kitting up on the boat but as we descended the line to the deck of this WWI wreck, I suddenly realised that I was thinking about nothing else than what I was about to see. All the fear, all the hesitation had just disappeared. The wreck and the sealife surrounding it consumed me completely. I was like a kid in a toy shop and was so relaxed that I even found myself helping my buddy deploy his SMB.
As if to prove a point, the buddy had a bouyancy problem and instead of completing his safety stop, bobbed up to the surface. The DM followed him and I realised that I was alone. I checked my pressure, depth and safety stop obligation, leveled out at 5m and completed my stop before surfacing. Calm. Cool. I was diving again and loving it.
I'd like to tell you my story about how I recovered from a panic attack ... and didn't give up diving! To the more experienced, this incident will seem trivial. But to me it was profound and shook my self-confidence very badly.
First off, I think it's woth noting that I was a relatively inexperienced diver (20 dives) and I'd resumed diving after a 4 year break during which I did not dive once and had even sold my kit. When I decided I wanted to dive again, I found a local dive centre, went through a scuba review and then booked myself on dry-suit and nitrox speciality courses. On the weekend of the dives, my instructor and I made our way to a nearby quarry where we would do 2 drysuit dives on Nitrox. The following day, we would bimble around a couple of wrecks that had been sunk in the quarry.
The first dive started well, three of us - Instructor, DM and I - descended to about 6m (20ft) and ran through the drysuit drills. Once this was done the instructor suggested a bearing to a nearby wreck and, a little tired but confident, I agreed. We bimbled around the little wreck and squeezed in a "I'm the king of the world" before a quick pressure check showed that it was time to go. After nearly 30 minutes of diving, I was quite relieved that we were heading to the end. This had my first "real" dive in a drysuit with the ankle weights and along with a complete lack of bouyancy control I was feeling pretty tired.
A quick check of my air showed that I was heading into the red area on my SPG (50bar) and, my instructor - seeing this - decided to offer me his reg for a buddy share. This is where things went tits-up. I opened my mouth and put his reg in. Unfortunately, I forgot to exhale when my reg was out and suddenly cold water was filling my mouth.
Panic.
The panic itself was sudden. I was immediately aware that I was in a very hostile environment. I was underwater in some godforsaken quarry and not at home with my wife and children. The possibility of drowining seemed very very real. I had my instructors reg in my mouth but in my panicked state, I was not concentrating on locking my lips around the mouthpiece and so was taking in more water. I distinctly remember looking up and seeing the bright shimmer of the surface. That's where I wanted to be. Without a seconds hesitation, from 15m(50ft) I bolted for it.
Fortunately, my Instructor had anticipated this and already had a firm grip on my BC straps and was keeping me down. While I frantically signaled that I wanted to ascend (I think I was yelling blue murder at him through the reg at the same time), my instructor was calmly looking at me and signalling "no" and "get control of your breathing". This was hard, but certain messages kept pinging into my mind telling me that I knew how to dive, that my instructor knew what he was doing, that I was going to be ok. Slowly, I managed to get control of my breathing, and locked my lips around the reg so that I was no longer taking on water.
I looked around me and saw the DM off to one side, calmly ready to step in if needed. My instructor could see that I was back in control and I signaled an OK. He shook my hand and signaled an ascent. The ascent with safety stop passed uneventfully and I was very happy to surface.
In the hotel that night, during a bout of insomnia, I decided that I would never dive again. The risks are too great.
The next morning, I went down to breakfast and met the rest of the group who were sitting around the breakfast table sharing diving stories, making jokes and the the cruel-but-harmless banter that divers are so good at. I realised that this was my hobby and that. I wasn't sure I wanted to call it a day.
It was interesting that thoughts of getting in the water again were clouded by fear. I would replay in my mind, over and over again, those seconds underwater where I felt trapped and in genuine peril. This was something that nobody could talk me down from. All the well meaning comments of "you'll be ok" and "just jump on back in" were very welcome but they did not remove this shroud of fear.
I decided though that I was going to "man up" and get back in the water. And on that Sunday, I did a couple of shallow dives. I was terrified. My mind was running at a 1000rpm during these dives. Every action - every instant - seemed loaded with peril. Descending, ascending, equalizing, finning, using my dive light, checking my guage... everything... seemed dangerous and I could see points of failure everywhere. Still, without any sense of pleasure and with lots of support from my buddies, I made it through those two dives and I went home and had a long long talk with my wife.
In the weeks that followed, it became clear that the point of failure was me. The incident had occurred because I was out of practice, my skills were lacking and I had let myself become fatigued. All of this had contributed not only to the initial error, but to the panic that followed.
Once I got that, I realised that there was something that could be done and that I wouldn't have to give up something that I remembered having a deep passion for. So, I went down to the pool and started running through my skills over and over again: bouyancy, finning, mask off, free flow, regs out. I must have spent about 3 hours underwater over two or three days doing this before I went back to the quarry and dived again.
This time, there was still a sense of fear but it was much reduced. I enjoyed 4 safe dives but still felt a little uneasy and wasnt entirely disappointed to get out of the water at the end of the day.
Finally, a few days later, the opportunity came up to go on a decent wreck dive off the southern coast of England. It would be a boat trip with a DM and a buddy. I have always liked wrecks and so I agreed to go. The night before was rather sleepless and I felt a little nervous kitting up on the boat but as we descended the line to the deck of this WWI wreck, I suddenly realised that I was thinking about nothing else than what I was about to see. All the fear, all the hesitation had just disappeared. The wreck and the sealife surrounding it consumed me completely. I was like a kid in a toy shop and was so relaxed that I even found myself helping my buddy deploy his SMB.
As if to prove a point, the buddy had a bouyancy problem and instead of completing his safety stop, bobbed up to the surface. The DM followed him and I realised that I was alone. I checked my pressure, depth and safety stop obligation, leveled out at 5m and completed my stop before surfacing. Calm. Cool. I was diving again and loving it.
Last edited:
