The bucket shower as symbolic of my entire existence (or When In Madelonihmw...)

Since all of those who know me should, by now, be well aware that my love of the extended metaphor will, eventually, be my downfall, here goes.
On that warm September night sixteen short days ago, as I was walking, running, losing my clothes, and, finally, diving face first into the Pacific Ocean, I simply couldn't help but (mentally) pull back from the moment and watch myself from above, almost like someone watching a character in a film. As I analyzed, it occurred to me that diving straight into the waves was rather neatly symbolic of my willingness to leave behind everything familiar and comfortable to me in exchange for life in a developing nation for 27 months with the Peace Corps.
I patted myself on the back psychologically, proud that I had taken my oceanic plunge that day in DIA as I had hugged my parents goodbye, turned my back on all I knew and loved, and turned to face several ambivalent security screeners (well, and Micronesia). However, as I stood in the concrete shower area outside of my new home in Madelonihmw, toy bucket full of cold water poised ominously above the crown of my head, I realized that this was it. This was the moment. As I poured, I dove into the breakers, departing from the safety of the beach on which I had stood and waded so many times before, free from worries about the strength of the undertow or about the aggressiveness of the local sea life.
Thus, as I closed my eyes and drenched myself in cold water, I once again stepped outside of myself and analyzed. I realize now that the proper sequencing of events would go something like this.
Walking down the beach=applying to the Peace Corps
Dipping my toe in to test the temperature=stepping onto the plane in Denver
Wading in up to my ankles=staging in LA
Running back and stripping to my skivvies=flying to Pohnpei
Running back to the water=my first two days in Pohnpei
Diving into the breakers=moving in with my host family and taking my first bucket shower

The metaphor works because, on some level, the two activities are the same. No amount of standing, waiting, and thinking on the beach will prepare you to actually dive into the Pacific, just as no amount of research, reading, and US-based classroom training can fully prepare you for your first bucket shower. Thus as I stood there in my skirt, waiting and wondering and fearing, I knew that the cold water was not a thing I could rationalize or prepare for. So I picked up the bucket, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
All that remains is to see if I can swim...