Utila – Week 6, Day 2: The Successful Loser
UTILA
Week 6
Day 2: The Successful Loser
December 19, 2022
PART I
After spending the entire evening and night sulking and wallowing, I decided to take a day off diving. With Noah having developed no symptoms whatsoever, I already felt a thousand times better. I set my morning plans aside and dedicated the rest of the morning to some self-reflection.
And so, I sat myself in my room and started journalling. After pondering the previous day’s events, I came to some conclusions. First off, I’ve always been the Almost Guy – always close but not quite there yet. Nothing ever came to me naturally. I always had to work hard for whatever I wanted, and despite that, I was never the best at anything. My job, at the time, was the only thing I felt I excelled in, and even that took all I had.
When I discovered my passion for medicine, I had a drive unlike any other to learn and better myself. It became this one monomaniacal obsession that took over almost everything else in my life, leaving me with no other skills or valuable knowledge concerning other sectors. At the same time, seeing myself flourish for the first time made me feel way more confident. At one point, I’d even say I was obnoxiously overconfident.
But, as always, life is the best teacher. I noticed I had to start toning it down once I realised that I, just like any other doctor, can make mistakes. Granted, they had been tiny, stupid clerical mistakes that were insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but they were mistakes nonetheless. It humbled me. It made me realise that there is no such thing as a perfect doctor.
When You Try Your Best But You Don't Succeed
To do your best is all anyone can ask for. But what if your best is not good enough? With all the failures over the previous few weeks piling up, I could honestly say that for the first time in years, I felt insecure.
I wasn’t practising medicine – the one thing that grounded me and gave me purpose. I wasn’t feeling good about my body – I’d been smoking like a chimney and hadn’t worked out in months. I’d practically given up on sex and dating – which would admittedly always serve to boost my self-confidence. And worst of all, I was dedicating so much time to diving – time I could’ve otherwise invested in seeing more of the world – when I wasn’t even sure it was something I genuinely wanted.
You see, I loved diving from the very first breath I took underwater in Belize. But, once again, I’d found myself becoming monomaniacally obsessed with something and giving up everything else for it – just like I did with medicine. This time around, though, despite giving diving all my energy and dedication, I felt like it was going nowhere. Compared to other divemaster trainees (except Monkey, that is), I felt like I was always one step behind. Not to mention, after messing up so many things in one week, I felt completely and utterly lost – especially knowing that I was about to graduate.
If one looked at the divemaster trainee scoreboard, one would think I was practically a divemaster. And while it was true that I had met most of the requirements, I couldn’t have felt less competent to become an actual divemaster if I wanted to. In fact, the title would ring hollow to me – knowing I hadn’t exactly fully mastered those skills and would probably suck as a divemaster if I were to ever do it. I mean… who the hell would want me – the dud – to be the guy leading their dive?
What consoled me was the fact that I didn’t wanna do that. I wanted to become a divemaster mainly for the journey. I wanted to spend more time in Utila, brush up my techniques, and go on lots and lots of dives. So in a way, my goal had already been achieved. But in another way, I felt like I had some buried expectations – that I’d excel at this too. That at the end of the training programme, I wouldn’t just graduate, but graduate with honours. Instead, I was gonna be the one who just scraped through. And I wasn’t used to that.
The Successful Loser
Med school for me wasn’t something I gave much importance to. I knew I didn’t need straight A’s to become a good doctor, and so, I kinda zipped through it without so much as an all-nighter.
But when I eventually did become a doctor, I gave my all to better myself. I’d take extra shifts, study for exams, scrub in at every possible chance, work on different projects – I knew all the hoops I had to jump through and I did just that. I worked hard. And when I felt like that wasn’t enough, I pushed myself harder. I didn’t want to just scrape through my foundation programme. I wanted to excel and distinguish myself. I wanted to be the next Cristina Yang.
Which is why failing the second and final exam for the Membership of the Royal College of Surgeons was a tough hit. I was overreaching and tried to do an exam that only doctors two years my senior would normally attempt. Yet there I was, studying and working hard to be at the top of my class. When I failed by two points, I was devastated. For the first time since starting med school, I was the Almost Guy again. I had succeeded all my way through five years of med school and two years of foundation, and for the first time, I failed – by two measly marks.
All that hard work and hard-earned money – gone. I was realistic about this failure, though. I knew it was way beyond me at that stage of my training. I knew it didn’t mean I was a failure or a loser. I tried to do something beyond my depth, and I failed. And I was kinda fine with it. In a way, failing such an exam by two marks was impressive. It proved to me that I could actually pass it – that it was just two marks that separated me from greatness. And if I worked harder still, I could actually do it – I could be the very best!
I stopped calling myself the Almost Guy. Instead, I gave myself a brand-new nickname – the Successful Loser. As disappointing and disheartening as failures can be, I’d start accepting them with open arms. Sure, I’d have loved to be born a genius and get straight A’s through med school, or be a naturally extraordinary doctor. But I’m neither a genius nor Superman. I’ve always been average. But through hard work and perseverance, I’ve pushed boundaries and become better.
I swore not to give up. Not on surgery. Not on diving. Not on anything else. I’d stick to my guns and keep going. Never again would I choose to settle and be the Almost Guy. If anything, I went back to pursuing my old goal of becoming a polymath – a jack of all trades – even if I’d master none. Except for medicine, that is. No discussion about that.
A Constant Struggle
Getting to that epiphany felt like getting a huge weight off my chest. I had nothing to prove to anyone except to myself. I realised diving was something I enjoyed – a hobby, not a career – and the second I figured that out, I could finally let myself off the hook
I didn’t have to be so intense about it in the first place. Everyone else was just enjoying the ride, meanwhile I was too busy being hyper-focused, preoccupied, and beating myself up about every single inconvenience (definitely not referring to the Tank Incident though). And I don’t blame myself. That’s how I had gone through life.
I grew up with an older brother who was always better than me at everything. He had the good looks, the blue eyes, the charm, the cool. He had tons of friends and my parents’ support. Meanwhile I was no head-turner, I had dull, brown eyes, and the class clown attitude that’s usually cast as a side character on a sitcom. Then there was adolescence. Trying to fit in and find your place in a world where no one understands you and you haven’t quite begun to understand yourself. Years of trying to stay afloat without drowning in the cool versus nerd drama. Then it was med school – how hard it was to get in and how competitive it was to get through it. Five years of constantly being barraged by exams, assignments, rotations, and whatever else they could throw at us. And then I started working. That’s when I really had to prove myself. Prove that all that hard work hadn’t been for nothing. That I had finally reached my goal and found my place.
And now I was here. This gap year… This once-in-a-lifetime trip was probably yet another attempt for me to rise above and distinguish myself. I’d try to cover as much ground as possible, do all kinds of crazy things to prove to myself and to others that I can rough it up. By the end, I’d be an experienced world nomad, a citizen of the world, a globetrotter.
I think that’s when it all sank in. On that musty, stained bunk bed in a dimly lit dorm room in a dive shop in the centre of a tropical island in the middle of nowhere. That my life up until then had been this one constant struggle. All my life I had fought and bit and clawed to keep up, to be better, to reach the top, to win the race. I could never afford to relax. But now? Now I realised I could.
The “stop whining, start doing” and “you slow down, you die!” mantras I used to live by? I could finally set them aside for one I had come across back in Caye Caulker: “Go slow!” I needed to learn to stop, breathe, and relax. To be at peace with myself. To enjoy the ride.
PART II
Detour From the Depths
After getting it all out in the open and finally gaining some much-needed perspective, I felt more than ready to take a break — not just from diving, but from Underwater Vision altogether, if only for a little while. I needed a reset from everything.
And so, Amelia, Andreas, Omar and I kicked off our long-awaited adventure around Utila. After having been on the island for six weeks, most of us hadn’t stepped a foot outside of the main road – it was high time we’d explore some of the island’s most popular attractions. With Omar having been a frequent visitor of the island over the years, he’d make the best guide we could have hoped for.
We rented a golf cart – which, after my Mexican mishap, I absolutely refused to drive – and set off. Riding shotgun for once, I could finally sit back and soak in everything Utila had to offer. Getting to explore a different side of Utila reminded me I was still travelling, still on a journey — one I’d nearly forgotten about after getting so used to island life. It genuinely felt like I was back on the open road again, something I hadn’t thought about in a long while.
As we circled the island, I realised just how big Utila is. All those weeks, I had referred to it as a ‘tiny little island’ – perfectly ignorant of how much there was to see and do. I knew I had been missing out on a lot of things, but being so caught up in my divemaster training, I had made the active decision of spending the majority of my time at Underwater Vision. Perhaps I could’ve dedicated a couple of days to roam around a bit!
Runway Rebels and Subterranean Swims
First stop: the airport runway. And yes, I mean the actual runway. You can legit drive on it. Wild, right?
It felt so illegal, but also such a rush. We even came across a tiny propeller plane that we may or may not have boarded – legality uncertain. From there, we headed to the Freshwater Caves, which gave serious Mexican cenote vibes – an azure pool of crystal-clear water nestled inside an open cave surrounded by dense brush.
Next up was supposed to be Pumpkin Hill – a 75-metre-high elevation on the northwest side of the island with supposedly great views of the coastline. Unfortunately, the road leading there was closed, and since we were already caked in mud from the wheels, we gave up and made for a nearby beach.
After some pretty feeble attempts at snorkelling (thanks to the choppy waves), we just lazed around, sunbathing, vibing to good music, and chatting away. It was so, so restorative. No gear prep, no tanks, no briefing – just blissful nothingness. Honestly, it was the most relaxed I’d felt in weeks. After that morning’s conclusion that I should allow myself to just be, this felt the perfect place to do that. I swear, I never felt that light!
Silent Screams and Bat Dreams
The spa-day mood didn’t last quite long as we decided to add a few more stops to our tour. All tan and salty, we hopped back onto the golf cart and went on our merry way.
Next stop: the Bat Cave. It took us over half an hour of looping the same spot to finally find a tiny metal-fenced opening. Past that, it was all roots, branches, and chaos. Having searched for so long, I took the plunge and charged in, not knowing where I’d end up. There was something vaguely resembling a trail, but it needed a lot of imagination. Somehow, fooled by the gaps in the trees, I ended up on top of the cave. Yes. On top. And, much like when I was scaling that waterfall back in Santa Ana, I started cursing my love for adventure and wondering why I couldn’t just enjoy a quiet life.
Meanwhile, Andreas and Omar were yelling at me to come back down – they’d found the actual entrance just a few metres below. I had to clamber back down and hike up again to the real entrance. Once inside the cave – which, according to a sign outside, houses some 8000 bats – we did our best to stay silent and still. Or at least tried. I had to shush Amelia a few times, not too keen on ending the day foaming at the mouth. We ventured just deep enough to see a few dozen bats flapping around and decided we’d experienced enough.
We wrapped up the day with a few cold beers at Chepes beach. We talked, downed a few Salvas, watched the sunset, and by the time we were ready to head back, it genuinely felt like I’d been away for days. Coming back to Underwater Vision felt like returning home.
Stay wild,
Marius
Post-Scriptum
While climbing around the Bat Cave, I managed to scrape my left knee raw and re-opened that damned wound that had finally healed after more than a month of actively making sure it wouldn’t get infected. Grrr…