What I Learned While Struggling Underwater
Photo by Stefano Zocca on Unsplash
Thanks to a recent trip where I did both scuba diving and freediving, brace yourself for a few water analogy posts. Water continues to be a great teacher for me. (You can read other water-related posts here.)
As we were preparing for my first deep dive to 30 meters, my instructor reminded me how we start seeing fewer colors the deeper we go. Colors disappear in reverse VIBGYOR order — red being the first to go. I knew this in theory. But she said something that stayed with me: “You might see something as a different color until I shine a torch on it — and then you’ll see its true color.”
That insight took on a whole new meaning during the dive.
While trying to adjust my buoyancy at depth, I accidentally scraped my hand on some corals. It stung a bit, and I looked to see if I was bleeding. All I could spot was some black, oily-looking liquid. I assumed it was just some slimy residue or bits of color stuck to my skin. I tried brushing it off, but it wouldn’t go — and some of it looked like tiny strands of cloth waving in the water.
I decided to let it be and clean it later at the surface.
And that’s when I saw the blood.
Aha! The black liquid was blood — it only looked black at depth because the red wavelength disappears first underwater. No wonder I couldn’t “get it off.”
The challenges with achieving neutral buoyancy continued for the next two dives. No more scratches, thankfully, but I struggled to find balance. I could sense my instructor getting frustrated — especially since I had done so well the day before at 18 meters.
She wouldn’t let me hold her hand when I floated upwards; she kept asking me, “What’s happening?” and giving me cues. She never raised her voice or was impolite, but she was definitely pushing me. Eventually, I got the hang of it.
After the course, two thoughts stayed with me:
Even though she wasn’t coddling me, she never scolded me either. So why didn’t I enjoy those dives as much when I was struggling — even though I knew she was probably just pushing me to become independent?
I often tell leaders there’s a difference between being a “nice” manager and a good one. A good manager helps you grow, even if they’re not always nice. Do I still believe that? Especially given how I felt in this situation?
And if yes — how does one find that fine line between eustress (healthy stress that helps us grow) and distress?
When I told a friend about how stressed I’d felt around my instructor, she asked, “What did she actually say or do?”
I replied, “She didn’t say anything, of course — we were underwater! But I could see it in her eyes. She kept asking, ‘What’s happening?’ and I could tell she was frustrated. That made me feel even more stressed.”
Then came the question that stopped me in my tracks:
“Is there a chance you were projecting?”
I paused — and realized I absolutely was.
There’s no way I could tell her emotional state just from her eyes, especially with a mask on and a regulator in her mouth.
The underwater hand signals are limited; I couldn’t really tell if she was asking “What’s happening?” with frustration or with empathy.
The truth is: I was frustrated with myself. I had done well at 18m — why wasn’t I getting it at 27m? And subconsciously, I projected that frustration onto her.
Just like with the blood — what I saw wasn’t what was real.
Even things right in front of us can tell a different story than what’s true.
(And how do we even know what’s actually real?)
Coming back to the “nice vs good manager” debate, here’s where I’ve landed for now:
If you’re working with a manager:
Ask yourself: Am I assuming there’s stress or judgment where there might not be?
Ask them: How do you really think I’m doing? What can I do better?
If you’re a manager aiming to push your team to grow:
It’s important to also acknowledge when someone is doing well.
Watch out for signs of distress. If you see someone fumbling or their performance dropping, check in: How are you feeling? What do you think is getting in the way?
Remember: There’s no exact science to this. But this awareness feels like a crucial step.
What else do you think helps maintain that balance — and keep yourself or others in eustress, not distress?
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