The Third Time (Wasn't the Charm)

"Today we're gonna go!" Nancy, my swimming instructor, cheerfully informed me when I checked in at the YMCA's front desk last Saturday. 

Unfortunately, despite our best intentions, we didn't "go" very far...

Coming into my third lesson, I felt good, cautiously optimistic, though, granted, a huge chunk of that good feeling was immense relief at fleeing the pool for a one-week reprieve before the next round of torture fun. 

I left after my third lesson, last week, feeling totally discouraged. The reason why: my psychological fear of holding my face underwater is holding me back. 

If I can't do that, I realized, I can't do anything else. I'm wasting my time, energy, and money (and, believe me, I do not like to waste any of these things) on swimming lessons unless I force myself to overcome this fear. But it's huge. Even the thought of holding my face (or, God forbid, my head) underwater makes me panic. It equals drowning to me. So I have a decision to make: Which is stronger, my fear of water or my desire to swim? My answer will determine everything else that happens (or doesn't happen). 

First the sink, then the pool.

To help me improve, I've given myself homework. Every evening I practice immersing my face in a kitchen sink full of water. I know this sounds (and probably looks) very strange, especially since I don my swimming cap and goggles when doing so (though I stop short of changing into my swimsuit), but whatever works, right? 

I'm getting accustomed to this uncomfortable feeling, gradually holding it under longer and deeper, while showing myself that I can do it without drowning (or inhaling a gallon of water up my nose, which is almost as horrible). 

 If all goes well, this weekend I'll be ready to go!