A story about growth, DBT, and the power of small steps

You might have read before on this blog about how much I love swimming. These days, I go to the pool about four times a week and swim for an hour. I can swim a lot of laps in that time now, and it’s hard to believe how far I’ve come. It’s taken me two years of gradual progress to reach this point, and swimming has become such an important part of my life.

Recently, I was reading a post on a chronic pain blog. A lady wrote that she didn’t do any exercise but had decided she wanted to start going to the pool for an hour every day. When I read that, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I admired her enthusiasm — that kind of motivation is wonderful. But part of me worried she might be setting herself up for disappointment. Going from no exercise to swimming every day is a big leap.

Her idea to start swimming was great, though. I’ve found swimming to be the best medicine for chronic pain. If I’ve had a very physical day at work and my back is sore, instead of taking strong medication and lying down — which I used to do — I now go to the pool and do some gentle exercises.

It has taken me a long time to build up to swimming lap after lap for an hour, four days a week. If I had started out with a goal like hers — going from no exercise to swimming every day for an hour — I think I would have given up in the first week.

These days, I genuinely love swimming and look forward to it. If I can’t go for some reason, I really miss it. But it wasn’t always like that. When I first started going to the pool, I had to use the opposite action skill from DBT. The idea is simple: you do the opposite of what your emotions tell you to do. At the time, I often didn’t want to go swimming. I was self-conscious about my body and my lack of swimming skills. I worried that people would judge me. And most days, I just felt too tired and sore — I wanted to crawl into bed and watch TV.My friend and support worker really encouraged me to keep going. Sometimes she came with me. Other times, when I didn’t feel like it, she’d gently say, “Just go for 20 minutes. That’s heaps better than not going at all.” So I used the opposite action skill — I went to the pool, reminding myself I could stop after 20 minutes.

Usually, once I was in the water, I felt better. I enjoyed being in the water’s calm, gentle rhythm and often chose to stay longer. Knowing I only had to commit to 20 minutes made it so much easier to take that first step.

Now I love swimming so much that it’s strange to think I ever had to make myself go. I tend to swim in the afternoons, and on weekends the pool closes early — sometimes I actually feel disappointed when it’s time to get out.

So how did I go from forcing myself to go to the pool… to forcing myself to leave it? Before I started DBT, I was very unfit. I wasn’t doing any exercise, and I used a walking stick. I also wasn’t using my NDIS support hours in the best way — I’d often ask my support workers to take me out for coffee or to the movies. One of my support workers, who was also a friend, encouraged me to use my supports in a more positive way. Instead of going to the café, she suggested we go for a walk or head to the pool.

We started going to the pool together. I’ve always loved being in water, but I had avoided swimming for years because I was so unfit. M and I would grab a pool noodle and walk up and down the pool to help us float. We’d chat as we moved. At first, I didn’t want to stay in for long, but M encouraged me gently. Over time, I began to enjoy it again and remembered how much I loved being in the water.

We were just doing gentle exercise, but chatting while we moved made it fun. In the water, I didn’t need my walking stick. I didn’t have to worry about falling. It felt freeing.

After a few months of going once a week with M, I wanted to do more, so I started going by myself some days. At first, that felt daunting — but I did it anyway. I began using a kickboard and eventually bought some prescription goggles. I started alternating between walking, using the kickboard, and swimming gentle laps of backstroke.

Then I decided to take swimming lessons. My teacher helped me improve my stroke and encouraged me to build strength — even challenging me to get out of the pool without using the steps. I couldn’t do it at first and felt embarrassed, but that embarrassment became motivation.

After a few months of lessons, I was swimming several times a week. About six months in, I realised I was getting fitter outside the pool too. I said goodbye to the walking stick — a huge milestone. I no longer needed the opposite action skill to make myself go swimming. It had become a habit, something I looked forward to.

As my fitness improved, I pushed myself a bit more — replacing my walking laps with more backstroke and breaststroke. Before long, I was swimming for 30 to 60 minutes at a time.

One day, about a year in, I realised I could get out of the side of the pool without the steps. It was a small thing, but it felt enormous. I was stronger, fitter, and more confident.

Now, two years after starting, I can’t imagine life without swimming. I’ve even taught myself to do tumble turns, and I can swim for ten minutes at a time without stopping.

I know I’ll never be a particularly fast or competitive swimmer, and that’s okay. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised that being “good” at something isn’t as important as simply enjoying it. There are plenty of people who could swim twice as fast as me — but they don’t, because they don’t love it like I do.

For me, swimming isn’t just exercise. It’s freedom, it’s healing, and it’s a reminder of how small, consistent steps can lead to big change.