Quick request:
Today is the last day of the month of #Movember, where I grow a big, hairy mustache to raise funds and awareness for men’s health issues — prostate and testicular cancer, along with mental health and suicide prevention. I’ve been doing this for several years, and it became more poignant for me after losing my dad. Some people love the ‘stache, and some hate it, but that’s part of the fun during the 30 days that it grows from a bit o’ scruff to a full-on disaster.
You still have time to donate into December, if you’d like to support me and the cause. I would be SO grateful. In some ways, considering the current social and political climate, it seems tone deaf to advocate for men’s mental and physical health, but with hundreds of thousands of men dying too young every single year — our fathers, our brothers, our friends — it’s still an urgent need.
Speaking of mustaches, I took mine and Simone down to the Florida Keys over Thanksgiving week for a bit of diving and a ton of seafood. I was actually concerned that my scuba mask wouldn’t seal well over the lip monster, but it was fine.
Terrible segue.
I wanted to get Simone back in the water before she forgot how much she loved diving and how good she was at it. During these stressful times, while she awaits early application responses from her two top schools, I want to do anything I can to help keep her confidence high. I know too well how it ebbs when it’s not nourished.
In fact, when I first posited a trip to Florida, Simone wasn’t enthusiastic. Our text conversation went something like this:
“But, Florida?”
“Yeah! Warm weather and beautiful dives!”
“I don’t know.”
“Hey, I just found out we can dive wrecks, which is what you’ve been really wanting to do.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. But still. Florida?”
“Did I mention we can eat seafood every day?”
“Oh, you have a point. Book the tickets.”
But I knew, I just knew, that getting her in the water would be good for her soul. And mine.
So I bought our plane tickets, reserved a hotel, made arrangements with a dive shop, and then Hurricane Irma made her landing, and we waited for weeks to know if our trip could still happen. Simone didn’t have strong feelings about the adventure either way, which was maddening and, well, expected.
But by the time we’d connected through Chicago (wet Italian beef sandwich!) and picked up our cute rental car in Miami, we’d both settled back into the joys of traveling together.
Our first dive was cancelled the next afternoon due to high winds and waves, but not before Simone nearly had a meltdown trying on the rental wetsuit, deeply unhappy as she struggled to get the wrinkled, skin-tight neoprene up over her legs and hips. Of course, having me whisper, “Take a deep breath, please calm down,” didn’t make things any better. And then she had to peel the whole thing off when the boat captain suggested we postpone until the next day. But I noted the relief in her sigh as she yanked her left foot out of the leg of the suit.
We ended up putting away a pound or two of stone crab claws at a picnic table outside a fish market before meandering down the Keys in our little car and taking in the sights. When we found a state park full of coral fossils exposed in a defunct quarry, Simone geeked out for an hour, using a laminated guidebook from the ranger’s office to explain to me what we were looking at.
The next morning, after a Waffle House breakfast, we found Simone a lycra bodysuit (recommendation from a close friend of mine), and that afternoon she was able to slip the rented wetsuit right on without fuss or stress.
The sun bounced rainbows off the rooster tail wake behind the boat as we left the quay and headed out to open water. Our dive guide was a college student studying underwater archeology, so she and Simone bonded pretty much right away on all the nerdy things. And she was stoked to be with us on Simone’s first post-certification dives. I could see my girl getting a little nervous during the pre-dive briefing, and she balked at leaping off the front of the boat and into the water, so the captain led her around to a ladder, where she could slip in a little more easily.
And then… we were underwater, diving along the wreck of an old coal barge, and everything was beautiful. Simone’s jitters disappeared as she settled into the slow and steady breathing from her training, and of course every pufferfish was a small miracle to her. The next dive that day and the two the day after were easy and gorgeous, in warm water and dazzling sun, swimming over historical shipwrecks and exploring reefs.
Because that’s how it is with Simone — get her past that first bit of doubt, and she settles down, letting her natural gifts restore her confidence. It’s something I try to remind her of, how that initial dissonance and discomfort goes away fairly quickly, once she warms to whatever it is she’s working on. My little perfectionist doesn’t like the struggle, so I try to provide her with chances to be challenged, work through it, and thrive.
One key is to help her appreciate incremental successes (The wetsuit went on no problem! You took a big stride into the water and we’re good!) even amongst the hiccups and obstacles.
Another key is to let her fail sometimes, whether it’s in the kitchen or on a project, and figure out ways to do better the next time, learning from her mistakes along the way.
And probably the most important key is to remind her of where she excels, because it’s easy to forget when things don’t go well.
This is all very much on my mind, because Simone applied “early action” to her two favorite colleges and they’re both highly selective. Applying early demonstrates enthusiasm, but it doesn’t necessarily improve a student’s chances for admission (from what I understand). And though I hope that her top school will accept her, with less than a 7% acceptance rate, there’s a chance it won’t happen.
So it’s this balance between helping her maintain confidence but also bracing her for potential disappointment. It’s like, she loves her scuba time and feels good at it, but she also burns through her air faster than everyone else because she’s not a strong swimmer and flails around a ton. So giving her props for diving while trying to coach her on better control in her swimming is a delicate dance.
The benefit of Simone’s rapid emptying of her tank wasn’t clear to me until our final dive. We were exploring a reef system's wildlife when one of the guides we were diving with made a series of gestures to me. All I picked up was, “It’s time to go up,” so I nodded and we floated our way to the surface. It wasn’t until we were on the boat that I realized nobody else in the dive party had come up with us — the gesture had been, “Simone is low on air, so we’re going up. Do you want to stay with the party, or come with us?”
I’d had enough air in my tanks for another 20 minutes underwater, but it was too late to change my mind. Instead, I jumped off the side of the ship and splashed around in the sea while we waited for other divers to return, relishing the saltwater and sun. Because our trip had been so short, because Simone isn’t a beach person, and because we didn’t have a beach to enjoy on this trip anyway, that turned out to be my only time to be playful in the warm ocean water. When I realized this, it was a struggle to return to the boat when it was time to head back to shore.
The trip was short and sweet, giving us both a brief respite and a little time to breathe before a month of intensity begins. As we buckle up for the ride, it’s good to have another set of happy memories to help us stay positive and confident.
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