I stood on the edge of the diving board in Salthill, Galway. It was sunnier than expected for an April afternoon, which meant the area was crowded with college students distracting themselves from studying.

“Go on,” my friends encouraged. “It’s your birthday, you have to do it.”

The longer I stared at the 28ft distance between my toes and the water, the colder it became. I backed away and let my friends ahead of me. And after watching each of them carelessly plop into the ocean, I said “Fuck it” before jumping off the board and into my twenties. The exhilerating rush as I fell into the ice cold water wasn’t anywhere near as painful as my imagination. It was the opposite – freeing.

My mum brought me to my first swimming lesson when I was four. My cousin joined her, spectating from the sideline while the swimming instructor waved me into the pool to join the rest of the kids. I stood there crying, glancing from my mum to the water; into the unknown.

I don’t remember the first time I actually kicked my legs in water but I vividly recall not getting into the pool that day. How terrifying it felt and how disappointed everyone was. What I do know though is that I swam in that exact pool many times afterwards. 5 days a week till I was 10 to be precise. Now, I swim reguarly as a leisurely activity. It comes easy. Natural. And though my first memory of a pool isn’t a pleasant one, I can’t say I have a bad memory of my first time actually swimming.

Why does the preparation for change often feel worse than the change itself?

It’s as if our mind tricks our bodies into ‘survival mode’ protecting us like a parent guarding their baby from perceived threats. But there’s a reason people say ‘try more things when you are young’; we are not all born with fears, they are learnt through trial and error, through listening and talking. Bad experiences and good experiences. The uncomfortable becomes comfortable when we do more of it and break those learnt fears.

In our family house, we have two showers: one electric, one heated. The electric shower stopped functioning properly earlier this year; it would suddenly spout out intense heat for 10 seconds, then intense cold for 10 seconds, a back and forth game of hot and cold. I couldn’t enjoy my shower because it was unpredictable. It would trick me into thinking the temperature was nice and warm, then suddenly surprise me with a blast of cold water mid shampooing. Because of this I started using mum’s heated shower, though it took more preparation time to heat up, it would always maintain a consistent temperature. I didn’t have to keep my guard up while showering and suddenly became more grateful of a normal shower that obeyed orders. Sometimes when it wasn’t heated up fully, I would settle for a cold shower and grew accustomed to them. Once I could control the temperature and prepare my body for it, I was comfortable.

The unpredictable spouts of hot and cold reminded me of how I felt the longer I stood on that diving board; suffering more from fearing the unknown than if I just dived in and let myself experience the cold water.

Last week, I asked my followers on Instagram if they would prefer a consistently cold shower or an unreliable one with spouts of hot and cold. Though my sample size is small, it was still fascinating that:

67% picked a consistently cold shower

33% picked an unpredictable temperature with chance of heat

I can’t psychoanalyze the meaning behind each individual’s choices, but I know it definitely says a lot about what we are most comfortable with. Do the same people who like unpredictable temperatures enjoy unpredictable situations? Or do they despise the idea of cold so much that they crave the familiarity of a bit of warmth? Are cold showers easier knowing there will be some warmth in them?

I have started sea swimming during the Winter months in the Irish sea. It is cold, but it’s also so cold that I don’t have to think. I can be present. I don’t dip my toes in, I run into the water. And I always know there will always be warmth afterwards, plus I will feel a bit braver for putting myself through the uncomfortable to become more comfortable with it. So when I decide to have cold showers, I now imagine I am diving into the familiar cold sea. My body can relax.

As humans, we seek comfort, security and safety. But I hope you stretch your body’s limits and dive into this new year taking chances outside of your comfort zone because it’s a lot less scary and cold than sitting on the sideline anticipating.