Don't play safe

If each experience we have adds a piece to our lives, then I became a bit stronger today as the thermometer read frigid and my teeth chattered in the single digit temperatures and below zero wind chills. The sun was deceptively bright making it look like a beautiful day.  The reality of the biting cold was anything but, and no matter where I stood or moved I could not get warm.

The beer tent evidently was enough of an insulator for some, as they ran around in shorts and T-shirts and some even less.  Men in underwear were running around, men that should never be publicly seen in underwear. Struggling to comprehend their indifference to the cold, I waited until the very last possible moment to shed my layers.  I had intentionally avoided the plunge area, not wanting to see what I was about to do. There are times ignorance is bliss and I wanted to hold onto my ignorance as long as possible.  Finally getting in line, my stomach danced with the anticipation and the realization of what I was about to do, denial being ripped from me in quick layers. Why was I doing this?  I could have said no.  But I never say no to things that scare me, in fact I intentionally always say yes. The more it scares me the quicker I am to say yes, shifting into a stubborn five year old girl stamping my feet and going toe to toe with fear.

There is no preparing for something like this, yet it is impossible to avoid the imagined experience in anticipation.  I knew it would be bad, but I had no idea how painfully bad it would be.  As we stood on the edge of the hole we were going to jump into, I settled into the familiar lack of feeling.  Much like skydiving once you are in the plane and on the way, you begin to disconnect from the anxiety and the motions become automatic.  The decision had been made long before this and despite my fantasies of imagined escape there was no way I would have backed out.  So standing there looking at the water, the ritual of a decision already made took over. Wanting to just move I grabbed the hand on either side of me and we jumped. 

The physical shock is indescribable and the pain is so overwhelming and intense that my mind could not keep up. Yet I was painfully aware my brain was falling way too far behind. Like a sideline spectator I distantly heard a screaming voice telling me to move, move faster and get out.  Yet the paralysis of shock made it seem impossible to breathe and move.  I struggled to fight through the mental fog slowing my brain but the pain in every cell of my body made it impossible.  I had assumed  the dive team in the hole was for emergencies. But as they verbally directed me to keep moving, to go toward them, grabbing my hand and helping me toward the exit I understood they were not so much for emergencies but to prevent them.  Immediately as I  the water I was physical and mental shock, beyond description overwhelmed me and I lost all rational thought.

Recently I have been priveleged to do some clinical work with veterans and the reminder of how long some have endured daily and repeated stress, pain and suffering was with me as I stood on the edge of the hole.  I reminded myself this was a short and brief pain I was about to feel, with a known end and safety guaranteed.  Questioning what I could endure with this reminder put things in perspective.

I didn’t change the world today by jumping into a 30 degree lake. I raised money for Special Olympics and I was part of a shared experience and  I took a leap outside of my comfort zone.  Part of my life philosophy is to be something and represent what I believe is important.  I was true to that today for me the plunge was simply another opportunity to step up, to be part of a team, to step into fear, and to be part of something bigger.  It is a little piece of my foundation and added to who I am.  I didn’t play safe.