But why is it scary? Is it scary because your feet can’t touch the bottom and you fear you’ll sink? Maybe, as in the ocean, it goes down so far that you’re afraid of what lies below. It’s mysterious, it’s uncharted territory. Really, you’re probably just afraid of the unknown. There’s no telling what could happen to you if you go in the deep end.

After I figured out the mechanics of swimming — that is, I could actually propel myself through the water — I would only swim as far as the line in the middle of the pool that denoted the beginning of the deep end. I wasn’t necessarily tired once I reached this point. That line signified something unknown. What if I swam into the deep end and suddenly my muscles gave out and I could no longer swim? Would I find myself in the middle of the pool, no power left, only to struggle as I sunk to the bottom?

People who learned to swim at a young age don’t understand this feeling in their adulthood. Friends and family might simply encourage you. “C’mon, you can do it. It’s not a big deal. Just jump in.” But that’s not what we want to hear. Being unable to swim is already embarrassing, why would we want to add to the embarrassment by struggling in front of our loved ones? Encouragement is not enough, especially in the heat of the moment. Psychological fear plus performance anxiety is not a good mix.

What we need is patience. Guidance. Comfort. And most of all, a safe environment free from anxiety and judgment. You’d think you could get that from loved ones, but sometimes it takes total strangers to help you get over your fears. That’s why I recommend taking a class. I put it off for so long. I thought that if I just practiced a little each time I was near water, that I could overcome my fear. But with everybody around you having fun, it’s hard to make mistakes and not feel like an idiot.

The deep end isn’t intrinsically scary. It’s just water. We all know plenty of people who jump in and pop right back up. It’s the unknown that sparks the fear. But imagine being in a place where everybody feels the same as you, where everybody has the same goal. The deep end is just another place to try, to fail, to overcome. There is no performance. There is no judgment. The judgment exists solely in our own heads. The best thing you can do is stop worrying what other people think of you and just keep trying until you get it. It works in swimming, it works in life.

You won’t sink in the deep end. You’ll actually float pretty well once you relax and learn to tred a little water. Once I became comfortable in the deep end, my next task was to try to swim to the bottom. It was a struggle to make myself swim down headfirst. The human body naturally wants to float. It’s the same in life. Sometimes we’re scared to jump into the figurative deep end — make some life-altering change — but once we leap, we discover it’s not so bad. We just keep floating on.

But the story you tell is not who you are. Take away all those brands and activities and ideas that you surround yourself with and have you removed your self? Are you no longer you? Of course not. Sometimes we grip to a specific story line for so long, even though it hardly fits the narrative anymore, because we feel we’ve spent so much time crafting it to give it up would be to give up our own very being. We’ve dedicated our lives to upholding this definition of ourselves and were we to no longer adhere to this arc it would mean a breakdown of what it is to be “me.” But that is just not so. Stripping away your labels, tearing apart the story, killing your associations… these actions will still leave you with you. You are not the sum of your stories. You do not have to give credence to a work of fiction.

Nothing you’ve done, nothing you own, nothing you think you are is set in stone and none of it truly matters. Just because you have told yourself you have a fear of swimming that doesn’t mean you can’t swim. The stories you tell only stick together if you obsess with the past or with the future; forget the past, forget the future, they are just concepts that do not exist. The story you should be concerned with is the story of right now — the present. In the present, the story you’ve spent years working on isn’t really important. In the present, this moment, this is who you are.

There’s nothing wrong with this fear. It’s a necessary fear for self-preservation. If you don’t feel comfortable in your ability to swim, you fear you may drown, so you avoid swimming. As you get older, that fear builds psychologically and you stop trying.

But you can’t stop trying. You need to breathe.

The scary part about taking a breath as you swim a lap is that you will inevitably get water in your mouth. This triggers the fear of drowning and incites panic. So those of us who are still learning to swim take quicker, more superficial breaths and thus get less oxygen to supply our muscles. We frantically move our limbs to get to either end as quickly as we can so that we can come up for air. We’re not relaxed. We get tired.

To swim and breathe you need to relax. You need to trust yourself. You need to ignore and spit out that water in your mouth. The water in your mouth is an inevitable part of swimming. Just like in life, there will be diversions while you’re trying to come up for air. Spit those diversions out and move on. They aren’t even setbacks, just inevitabilities. Accept them, move past them, and take your breath.

You will get to the far end of the pool eventually. There is no need for speed here. Once you can efficiently breathe, the pool becomes much shorter. Everything seems difficult if you dwell on the obstacles and you struggle to get to the perceived end.

Slow down and your muscles will learn to do the work effortlessly. Accept each moment in the pool as it comes. If you need to stop, stop. When you feel ready to go, go. But know that breathing is the key and the only way to breathe is by taking it one moment at a time.

I think the physical things we hold onto carry a lot of mental baggage as well. Maybe you don’t want to get rid of an item you never use because of sentimentality; a particular person gave it to you and you feel you might be harming that person in some cosmic way if you get rid of the thing. “They’ll know,” you mumble into your sheet, pulling it almost up over your face as you cower in bed. That’s not so. Perhaps you’re holding onto something because it once belonged to a beloved relative who has since passed. I can understand that. “This was my grandfather’s, this was my mother’s,” well, it makes sense. But is it holding you back in some way? Your deceased loved ones wouldn’t want you worshiping some item simply because it belonged to them. Now, if it’s necessary, if it’s useful to you, that’s a different story. “This was my grandmother’s cast iron skillet; I use it all the time because the surface is like glass and that takes a lifetime to temper.” Where does your stuff stack up?

What about clothes? Can you remember the last time you wore that old blue sweater hiding in the back of your closet? “Well, I tried it on once last winter but opted for another sweater instead.” Some people advocate tricking yourself by putting a little tag on every hanger and, over the course of a year, removing the tag when you wear the item; at the end of the year, whatever still has a tag on it, you donate. That’s fundamentally a ruse that I don’t think allows us to truly face the sentimentality we feel for our clothing. I say just suck it up. Open your closet and take stock of your life. Face it head on. Kill your darlings. Be honest with yourself. You will end up a lot stronger if you do it this way. No tricks, no methods, just strength.

If you don’t use it, you’re just hoarding. It could be useful to someone else. Removing the unnecessary will not only clear up your physical space and allow you to be more productive, it will clear up your mental space which will only facilitate that productivity. The less you have and the more space you allow yourself to flourish, the less you’ll buy and the less you’ll be tempted to refill that liberated space. Cut it out of your life, judiciously.

Stop caring about how you perceive yourself. Your own perceptions of yourself, how you define yourself, are holding you back. Think of a few adjectives that you might use to describe yourself. Perhaps you think of yourself as loving, or athletic, or scientific, or artistic. But what if one day you wake up and aren’t one of these things? What if an action of yours contradicts what one of these things represents? What if you don’t practice the activity for a while that has previously allowed you to call yourself that thing? “I always thought I was an athlete, but I haven’t been to the gym in months and haven’t participated in any sport for longer than that.” Are you still an athlete? Are you only an athlete when you are working out or participating in a sport? Are you only a painter when you are painting? Stop caring about these perceptions, these labels. You are only you. Once you try to fit yourself into some rigid box your perception of you changes and you are setting yourself up for feeling failure.

We live in a world of perceptions and labels because it makes it easier on ourselves and others. If you can define yourself or someone else in some simplistic way, it makes it easier to put them in a compartment in your mind. “John is a dancer, Mary is a biologist.” But are they really? If you knew all your life that John was a dancer and Mary was a biologist, how would it make you feel if one day John stopped dancing because he was no longer interested in the difficult physical regimen and Mary dropped biology to start making jam? How would that change them in your mind? “John sounds like he got lazy, he’s such a good dancer — it’s a shame he stopped.” “Mary is nuts leaving her university biology job with all its benefits to stay at home and make jam.” Would you judge them like this? Would you be happy for their change in path? If you never tried to define them in the first place, would anything surprise you?

A lot of people try to define themselves because it gives them purpose. But if that thing by which you define yourself was one day taken away, or one day no longer of interest to you, what happens to you?

When I arrived to the pool at my very first lesson, I wore a cotton tee-shirt and baggie nylon board shorts. I didn’t know what to expect. And, I admit, I was self-conscious — hence the tee-shirt. Most men and some women arrive in the tee-shirt, and there’s nothing wrong with this self-consciousness. You’re stepping out of your comfort zone by making it this far, so cut yourself some slack. I noticed that some people will wear their tee-shirt into the pool and attempt to swim in it. Let me discourage you from this on the outset. I know how you’re feeling — the new people new situation blues — but wearing a tee-shirt in the pool is not comfortable. Some pools actually forbid it. The tee-shirt will hold you back. It’s thick and heavy and constricting.

In the beginning, the board shorts I wore were fine. As I could barely manage a single stroke, or even successfully float, I wasn’t going anywhere fast. I was in the water and I was trying. However, there came a point that I actually was moving in the water. I was swimming about midway in the pool, just as the ominous deep end approached. There was something holding me back, something weighing me down. You guessed it: the board shorts.

Board shorts are fine for a day at the beach, but if you’re trying to swim the length of a lap pool you need something more streamlined, something that won’t fight against the water. I bought tight square leg trunks with about a 4-inch inseam. Switching to the shorter trunks completely changed how I felt in the water. It was enlightening. When I kicked off from the wall, my glide was much smoother and as I swam I slipped through the water.

What about women? In my swim class experience, I saw women show up in the tee-shirt and board short combo, I’ve seen them in beach bikinis, and I’ve seen them wear the standard one-piece. Opt for the one-piece. Just like with men, the tee-shirt and board shorts will slow you down. The bikini has a tendency to slip off, especially the top (yes, I’ve seen this happen). The absolute best thing you can get is the most basic lycra one-piece. They are inexpensive and available at any sport retailer. Think sleek.

I also recommend a swim cap for people with long hair. My hair is a few inches long and at first I had a silicone swim cap, the most typical you might see. I hated it. It was difficult to get on and difficult to take off and it pulled on my hair. Luckily you can find lycra swim caps, though they are less common. The silicone cap might be better for racing, but the lycra cap is far more comfortable and does what it is supposed to do. It keeps your hair out of the way.

On my first day I didn’t have goggles. I didn’t really consider it. My teacher loaned me a pair and it was integral. I bought myself a pair of goggles immediately. I think one of my fears in water was the inability to see. I also began wearing contacts when I swam. I wear glasses daily but combining contacts with goggles made my underwater world far brighter. It’s harder to be afraid of something you can see in plain sight. As for specific goggle styles, I first tried the standard smaller goggles and these let in too much water. I then found a larger pair that actually provided more suction and stayed in place better. These goggles were a one size fits most pair with a flat rubber nose bridge permanently attached to either lens.

And don’t forget a clean pair of rubber flip flops and your own towel. You’ll thank me.

So what do I wear now? I’ve still got the same goggles and lycra swim cap, but I now wear swimming briefs. After a while I felt the square leg trunks were a little baggy (which is my fault; I didn’t buy them tight enough) and decided that less is more. The briefs are incredibly comfortable. You’ll also see men at the pool wearing jammers; these are tight shorts with legs that go down to just above your knee. You’ll eventually land on your own preferred attire but for now these basics should get you in the pool and comfortably through the water.

Yet industry still demands a worker that wears many hats, that produces on demand, and that crams their day full of output.

Make an effort to begin focusing on the single task. Rather than overload your day with action, take your life one step at a time instead. In essence, purposefully slow down. Rather than read the newspaper as you eat in the morning, just read or just eat. One task. You’re thinking that this is impossible, that you just don’t have the time to live so singular, but I assure you that it is without a doubt possible and that all you have is time. All you have is time. Nothing more.

You can certainly multitask but it will not produce your best work. If impatient people demand more of you, ignore them or ask them to submit their request with a realistic deadline. The ironic thing is, the slower you go the more you will accomplish. Think about the busiest people you know. Are they paragons of project completion? Or, more likely, is everything last minute for them?

Focusing on the single task will bring you naturally toward mindfulness. By doing so, you are training yourself to be mindful of the task at hand. No disruptions, just focus. As you focus on single tasking in your life, you will begin to experience life in the moment.

How can you slow your life down right now and work on one task at a time? Start today.

So what’s the real first step?

You must sign up for an adult beginner’s swim class.

There is no other way around it. You need to get into the water. You need to do it in a safe environment. Your task is to research gyms and community pools near you and find an adult beginner’s swim class. I recommend the YMCA as most have a pool and their prices are better than most other gyms out there. Even if you don’t sign up for a membership, the YMCA will let you take their swim class as a non-member. The fee will be higher, unfortunately, but that is your impetus for signing up for membership.

I started by taking an adult beginner’s swim class at the YMCA and I didn’t have a membership. It was an 8 week class and after that 8 weeks I signed up for a membership to get the cheaper class price. I ended up taking the same class 6 times. I want to prepare you for this at the outset. Don’t assume that you’ll be comfortable, competent, and confident after just one class. As an adult learning to swim, we have certain psychological blocks in place that will work against us. A child without experience in the water might not have the fear that we have and can thus learn far quicker. We have to attack it differently.

Please, no excuses about this step. If you’re reading this, I want you to sign up for an adult beginner’s swim class. Some gyms even have a fear of water class. Take that if you wish. But it’s important that you sign up for organized pool time so we can start implementing our strategies. Maybe registration for class has passed. If that’s the case, I want you to mark on your calendar the first day you can sign up — the first Monday of the next month at 8AM — and I want you to sign up first thing. If registration opens at 8AM, you will sign up at 8AM.

This is important, so don’t just brush over it. You want to make sure you can actually get into the class (they fill up fast and might only offer as few as 6 spots) and signing up at the first possible moment will give you that “as soon as possible” mental fortitude. Remember: you are finished with being afraid. Attack swimming with vim and vigor.

At this point, it’s no longer simply that you can learn to swim. Now you will learn to swim.

I’m not a strong swimmer. In fact, I cannot swim. It’s something I’ve dealt with for a long time, my entire life in fact, an activity I’ve had to sit out. I don’t know why I can’t swim, I suppose I never really learned how. I’m not terrified of water, however; I’m happy to get in and play around and try to float and enjoy myself. But I cannot go so far into a pool or a lake or an ocean where I can no longer feel the bottom with my feet. I’m not confident enough in my abilities to take that leap. When I consider it, I feel like I could survive were I forced to swim; if I fell off a boat and it was a life or death proposition, I could do it. I believe in myself to that degree. But when it is not life or death, when swimming exists within my normal course of events, I cannot break past that mental barrier of going toward the deep end.

Growing up, I hated mushrooms. I don’t know whether it was the texture or the taste, but if you were to ask my parents about me and mushrooms at a young age I am sure they could tell you stories. Sometime in college, I evaluated my hatred for mushrooms and found it inexplicable. I just couldn’t figure out why I hated mushrooms. So I forced myself to eat and to like mushrooms. I ate mushrooms at every opportunity whereas in the past I had avoided them at all costs. And, as I’m sure you can guess, I ended up liking mushrooms. I like all kinds of mushrooms now, cook with them regularly at home, and have absolutely no aversion to them. They’re delicious.

I’ve decided that enough is enough. I am going to learn to swim. I am going to take adult swimming classes full of other people like me. I don’t believe my inability to swim is physical. I’m healthy, my limbs all work as intended, I’m more athletic than I’ve ever been in my life. I know when I see people swimming they are having fun. For me, the inability to swim is purely psychological and that makes me all the more determined to conquer it. I am the master of my own mind. I’m going to need help, sure, but I’ve got this one.

We all have things in our lives like this. We fear things for unknown reasons for so long that they become nothing but an albatross around our neck. But that albatross doesn’t really exist; it’s all in your mind. Consider what you have an aversion to, some irrational fear that’s followed you along your path preventing you from being the best person you can be, and face it with determination. Once you decide you will overcome it, you will. It’s all a matter of choice.

I write this now, having just returned from swimming laps at the gym, as someone who considers himself a swimmer. I’m not perfect, all my laps might not be pretty, but I can jump in the pool without reservation or fear. I can swim. I can swim and so can you.

My name is Joe and I’d like to share with you how I got to where I am, the tools I’ve used and continue to use — not just in swimming but in life — and I want to spread the good word to everybody out there who has a fear of swimming and wants to beat it. Yes, you can indeed swim. Let me show you how.

Mindful Swim.