Stories· 1 min read
The first time I panicked at 40 metres
Cold, dark, narced, and very far from the surface — a dive log about the moment things went wrong, and what I did to bring myself back.
The viz was bad. The thermocline hit harder than I expected. And around 40 metres, something in my chest decided this dive was over.
The first lie panic tells you is that you have to do something right now. The second is that whatever you do has to be big.
I did the small thing instead. I stopped finning. I found a fixed point on the wall. I made my exhale longer than my inhale, four times in a row. Then I signalled my buddy and we started a slow, deliberate ascent.
What actually helped
- A pre-agreed signal for "I'm not okay but I'm not in danger." We had one. That changed everything.
- Stopping movement before trying to fix breathing.
- Exhale-first breathing, not the panic-inhale loop.
- Naming it — not as a failure, but as data.
I don't think I'll ever fully stop being scared down there. I do think I'm getting better at being scared and useful at the same time.