Inside a Cave

One day last week, I spent part of the morning inside a cave.  It's not a literal cave, but it was cavelike, so let's pretend it was a cave.

This cave exploring had been planned for a week or two.  I had spent that time getting very, very worked up about it.

I have a tiny bit of claustrophobia, you see.

This phobia presents itself in odd ways.  I have never, ever freaked out while in a small space.  However, I regularly feel nauseous when I imagine myself in a cave, underwater, or buried alive.*  I recently got a little queasy while watching my pixelated Nancy Drew character flit around in scuba gear on the computer screen.  What if she loses her air hose?  NANCY DREW IS GOING TO DIE.

The day of the adventure, I steeled myself, determined to act like a grown-up even if I felt like a scared three-year-old.

It was perfectly fine.  My instructors were professional, quick, and helpful.  They told me I could keep my eyes closed if I wanted, and it was nice to have permission to play the "if I can't see the cave, it's not really there" game.  I did open my eyes a couple times, just to see if I'd freak out, and I didn't.

Chalk this one up in the "What would I do if I knew I could not fail?" category.

*The buried alive one might not be so much about claustrophobia as it is about... well, being buried alive.