The Snorkeling Situation: Do We Have to Go Deeper to Find What We Really Want?

Author’s Note: While on vacation in Roatan (in the Bay Islands of Honduras), I was snorkeling and inspired to write a blog series called “Saltwater Musings” – a tropical take on love, loss, healing, and the courage to dive deeper…written in the style of the character Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City and in collaboration with AI. It was a fun project that got me thinking creatively while still supporting women who are going through divorce, loss, and rebirth. This blog, The Snorkeling Situation: Do We Have to Go Deeper to Find What We Really Want? is the first in the series. I hope this series inspires other women to plunge into the unknown to find something beautiful. 

They say there are plenty of fish in the sea. What they don’t say is that to see the good ones, you might have to swim out past your comfort zone—and risk getting your hair wet.

On a warm Tuesday morning in Roatan, Honduras, I found myself standing at the edge of the Caribbean Sea, adjusting a too-tight snorkel mask and surveying the blue expanse before me. The water lapped at my ankles, gentle and inviting. The turquoise shoreline was filled with soft sand, floating seaweed, and the occasional curious fish. It was lovely. It was peaceful. It was…safe.

And yet, as I stood there ankle-deep in paradise, I found myself wondering—was I really here to play it safe?

Shallow Comfort, Deeper Truths

I started my snorkeling adventure close to shore, where the sea was clear and quiet, and my feet could still touch the sand if I panicked. I floated, looked around, saw a few silvery fish darting between patches of coral that looked more like decorative bath mats than the kaleidoscope of color I had imagined.

It was, in a word, underwhelming.

Of course, this is often how we start things in life, isn’t it? We dip our toes in. We play it safe. We tell ourselves we’re trying, but only within the boundaries of comfort. Whether it’s love, healing, or a new beginning, we hang close to the shore—just in case we need to get out fast. But off in the distance, the water grew darker. And deeper. And more promising. I could feel the reef calling me like some aquatic siren: Come closer. There’s more life out here.

I hesitated.

It’s easy to romanticize courage in theory. But in practice, it involves a lot of breath-holding, uncomfortable mask fog, and kicking your legs toward the unknown while trying not to think about sea creatures with teeth.

Flippers and Feelings

Eventually, curiosity won out. I adjusted my mask, sucked in a deep breath, and propelled myself farther out—past the sandy bottom and over the edge of the reef drop-off. The sea beneath me turned indigo, then navy, then black.

And then, just like that, it exploded into life.

Neon parrotfish, schools of yellow tang, spotted rays gliding like ballerinas in slow motion. I floated over a coral cathedral teeming with creatures in colors I didn’t know existed in nature. The deeper I went, the more there was to see. And for the first time in what felt like months, I forgot everything else—emails, deadlines, and even what day it was.

Out here, beyond the shallows, I felt alive. I felt small. And somehow, I felt free.

Emotional Snorkeling: A Theory

That night, I sat on the balcony of our villa, sipping a glass of white wine and staring at the sea, now dark and still. I thought about what it took to get out there—to see the good stuff. And I realized how much it mirrored the emotional work I’d been avoiding back on dry land.

When it comes to healing, I’ve been snorkeling in the shallows.

Sure, I’d journaled. I’d gone to yoga. I’d even listened to that Brené Brown audiobook that everyone says will change your life. But I hadn’t done the deep dive. I hadn’t asked myself the hard questions, the ones that make you hold your breath and push past the fear.

Why did I stay so long in that relationship?
Why did I shrink myself to fit into someone else’s life?
Why was I afraid to be alone?

In the shallow waters of healing, you might see a few feelings swim by. But if you want the truth, the clarity, the real growth, you have to go deeper.

Love, Loss, and the Reef

There’s something terrifying about love after loss. Especially when the loss is your own sense of self.

After a divorce, breakup, or betrayal, we become scuba-shy. We tell ourselves we’re just “taking a break” or “focusing on ourselves,” but really, we’re clinging to the sandy bottom because we’re scared of what happens when we float free again.

I’ve heard women say, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” or “I can’t trust anyone anymore,” or my personal favorite, “I think I’m just done with love…I’m never getting married again” followed by a chuckle tinged with grief.

But here’s the thing: coral doesn’t grow in still water. It needs movement. So do we. To build something vibrant, we have to move. We have to explore. We have to risk the current.

And yes, sometimes you’ll get a little salt in your eyes.

The Fish I Didn’t See

Not every moment out there was picture-perfect. At one point, I swam straight into a jellyfish—an actual, translucent blob of betrayal—and jerked back so violently I scared off all the nearby fish. My mask was fogged up so I was swimming blind. I swallowed half the ocean. I may have accidentally kicked a sea urchin. My heart beat faster as the fear and panic seeped in with the realization that I was out of my element, exposed to danger. What was I doing out here?!

But the funny thing is, I still wanted more.

The beauty of going deeper isn’t that it’s painless. It’s that it’s worth it. Every sting, every setback, every awkward flipper kick teaches you something. About your resilience. About your strength. About what you’re willing to swim through to get to the good stuff.

It’s the same in love. The same in healing. The same in life.

We grow not by avoiding pain, but by trusting ourselves to swim through it.

So… Do We Have to Go Deeper?

That’s the question I kept coming back to. As the sun set over the Caribbean, casting golden ripples across the water, I asked myself:

Do we really have to go deeper to find what we truly want?

And I think the answer is yes. But here’s the catch—you don’t have to go all at once. You can inch your way in. You can float for a bit. You can freak out and paddle back to shore, then try again tomorrow. Healing isn’t a race, and neither is finding love.

But if you stay in the shallows forever, don’t be surprised if life starts to feel…flat.

The Aftermath

After my snorkeling trip, I didn’t emerge as a fully transformed woman with all the answers. But I did come back with a few things:

• A sense of awe.

• A mild sunburn.

• And a renewed belief that the good stuff in life is usually found just past the place you stopped last time.

Whether it’s trying something new, opening your heart again, or finally asking yourself the questions you’ve been avoiding—go a little deeper.

Trust the water. Trust yourself.

And remember: the fish are out there. But so are you.

Like this blog? Continue reading the second blog in the series, Saltwater Cleanse.