I'll share my story. At this time I had about 1,000 lifetime dives, and had been trained in wreck penetration diving.
I was diving in Cyprus in February on the wreck of the Zenobia. It was just me and the guide, no one else being stupid enough to dive when the water was that cold. After day 1 of non-penetration diving, it was just too cold for a wetsuit so we took day 2 "off" for the instructor to teach me to use a drysuit. That all went fine, so on day 3 it was back to the Zenobia. The instructor was sufficiently confident from our diving so far that I was not an idiot so we planned various penetration dives.
From an early stage I was a little uneasy. I was trained for penetration, but it was clear that the instructor hadn't been, although he had a lot of experience. We were diving with singles, and no redundant gas. We also were not using guidelines. The instructor assured me that he knew the wreck so well that the entanglement hazard of lines was a risk which outweighed the benefit. I believed him, but that would not help me if we should get separated.
The first penetration dive had gone well enough, although I had been fairly concerned about the amount of silt which he tended to kick up as he lead me through one of the lorry decks. I was also pretty sure half way through that should I lose him we had taken enough twists and turns that I could not find my way back out. I was also highly conscious that this was only my third dive in a dry suit, and although it had all gone well, I was very aware of stories about suddenly loss of bouyancy control.
The second dive, counter intuitively, he told me would be the deeper dive. We would go down to about 140 feet and then work our way back up through the chain locker, out again, through the bridge, out the Captain's quarters and back up. I was not worried about the NDLs, but I was worried about gas. I had switched to a smaller tank (11 litre, equivalent to an Al 80) which worked fine at the depths to date, but we might be cutting it closer going deeper. I didn't like the number of corners being cut, but I had flown thousands of miles for this, so I wasn't going bail unless things started to get really tight.
I probably did have the wrong frame of mind as we descended, and as a result I was carving through my gas faster than normal (which I was aware of, but couldn't get it under control). When we hit 140 feet the alarm on my dive computer went off. I could not figure out why (just a little narced) and I could not clear it. At the surface I worked out that my ppO2 had gone over 1.4 but at the time I was just frustrated and my concern was growing. We penetrated the chain locker and that went find, although I found bouyancy difficult as I spent a lot of time vertical.
I kept a close eye on my gas, but I had switched my wireless pressure gauge to bar at the request of the instructor (who wasn't familiar with PSI, and I thought that would be more reliable than my mental arithmetic). But because the units are smaller 110 bar feels like a lot less gas than 1750 PSI (especially if you are not used to it). A lot of different things preying on my mind were starting to eat up at me. Penetrating without sufficient gas reserves, burning through my gas quickly, still worried about what might happen if I lost bouyancy control, lost my guide, etc. etc. I was not panicking but I could really feel it welling up inside of me. Because we had set an aggressive course my guide was finning strongly towards our next entrance point so probably was less aware of my discomfort than he might otherwise have been.
We came to the bridge and started to penetrate, so far so good - at least this penetration was taking us up, towards lower gas consumption and closer to home. But when we came to the fissure through which we need to travel to get to the quarters I had a really bad stab of panic. It was really, really narrow. I was not at all happy, and really felt I might do something rash if he plunged in.
He didn't. He stopped and looked back and asked me if I was OK. I gave the signal for "no, not comfortable". He could clearly tell from my body language that going insider was not on, and it was a question of whether or not to call the dive. He suggested we call the dive. I thought about it, and then decided that was probably the best course. So we swam back to our tie in and ascended.
No one died. No one got bent. No one actually flailed all over the place. But I spent a lot of time outside of my comfort zone, and as they often say: when it starts to feel wrong, it doesn't get better. With hindsight I could certainly have correct things at an early stage (probably on the surface before the dive), but I didn't, and I learned from that.