Equalized: Learning to Breathe Again

A New Chapter

I’m pretty sure everyone has their own story to tell about their firsts.
This won’t be about kisses or dates, though maybe it brushes close.

I’ve always loved the ocean, but going deep under? That was never really part of my interests. My first intro dive was sometime in 2010, in the usual diving spot of Anilao, Batangas. My mom had dragged me along for a weekend stay at her friend’s tropical resort, and scuba diving was part of the itinerary.

So there I was: suit on, goggles tight, mouthpiece in, and down we went. Around five meters deep, I started feeling a piercing pain in my left ear. Equalization issues. I signaled to the dive master, but in the silence of the deep, you can’t talk. You can only point, wait it out, or go straight back up.

Instead, the dive master held me steady at that depth, and after a while, he decided to push me deeper. Bad call. My eardrum burst. I surfaced with a fake smile, pretending everything was fine, then spent the next week in pain and partially deaf.

It took me years to give scuba diving another chance. Just like my journey into JCI Manila, I didn’t return immediately. There were questions:
Why try again?
What if I hadn’t?
What could have happened?

Eventually, I realized the answer. To enjoy anything, whether it’s a sport, hobby, or community, you need proper training and the right mentors. Scuba is a lot like golf. You meet new people, encounter different personalities, go to beautiful places, and enjoy time with friends and family. The difference is that with scuba, there’s no competition or bragging rights. You always put your life on the line, and underwater, your life is the same as mine. Ego has no place below sea level.

This June, we were lucky to spend a weekend with our JCI brothers and Baby Jaycees for the Sea of Life fundraising dive. Our first fun dive as a group was at Kirby’s Rock. At around 12 meters, our dive master got a feel of how the group would perform. We saw a vibrant mix of corals, a reef frogfish, a stonefish, and had an easy, chill dive.

Our second site was Layag, a coral wall that drops dramatically into the seabed. It felt like swimming beside the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. We then swam toward a reef shaped like a giant golf ball, surrounded by schools of jackfish. We ascended without even noticing, thanks to our skilled dive master.

That night, we stayed at Michelle Yuchengco Dee’s beautiful beach house. Cocktails, cold beer, and Japanese yakisoba were on the menu. The stories flowed. We didn’t want the night to end, but we had to wake up for our morning dive with her.

The main event.

At 10 a.m., waves were still crashing. We couldn’t board the boat just yet. Everyone was scattered. Some were chatting, others were resting. An hour later, we finally set up, loaded our gear, and dove into Kaola.

Michelle dove beside me. About 20 minutes in, she signaled to her right. A long, black-and-white banded sea snake about a meter long slithered gracefully near the sand, then disappeared into the corals. I locked eyes with it for a moment, mesmerized.

Then came two hawksbill turtles, feasting side by side on corals. Michelle lit up when she saw a huge pufferfish, the kind she affectionately calls a “flounder.” Every Ariel, I suppose, has her best friend.

We capped the weekend with a quiet, meaningful evening. I shared that last night with my wife and my JCI brothers. We retold stories, drank the beer I had brewed, forged bonds, and welcomed new friends.

That weekend felt like a turning point. A new beginning.

Now I understand.
Turning 40 isn’t so bad after all.