“Go ahead and jump, we’ll save you!”

There I was on the end of the diving board at Ridge Park Field House. It was a Brownie event, or maybe a birthday party and I was about ten years old. All my girlfriends were there and I wasn’t going to let a little thing like not being able to swim keep me from celebrating with the rest of them, despite my fear of the water.

I looked down to see Joan and Judy, treading water below the board waving and shouting at me, “Just put your arms up after you hit the water!” I looked around to see everyone nodding in encouragement, or maybe it was impatience, since I was holding up the line as I contemplated my fate. It was now or never. Do it or be forever teased, tortured, and branded a big chicken…

I’d rather drown.

What the heck–I held my nose, took a running jump, and cannonballed with a big splash–immediately sinking to the bottom of the pool. What had I done? Oh…dear…God! Just as I was beginning to panic, I remembered to raise my arms overhead and felt a push from beneath me. It was Judy, giving me a boost to the surface where Joan was waiting to help me to the side of the pool and safety.

Hoots and hollers from all the girls reverberated off the tile surfaces in appreciation of this miraculous feat. The chaperones were not at all pleased when they found out I couldn’t swim, and pulled me out of the pool as I sputtered and coughed up all the water I had swallowed.

I was elated. I had encountered fear; forged ahead anyway, and emerged victorious (translation: still breathing). I had trusted my friends and they came through for me. As I look back, I realize they did something even more important—they didn’t make me feel bad about not being able to swim, but cared enough about me to figure out a way to get me off the sidelines and include me in the festivities.  So Very Nice. I will always hold a place for them in my heart.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the same warm feelings for the swimming pool.

Over the years I’ve had ambivalent bouts with swimming. I loved the water, but it still scared me to death. I went snorkeling in St. Croix wearing a life vest to keep me afloat, but couldn’t relax and trust it. I was so petrified that I didn’t see one fish or coral formation, just kept my eyes glued to the guide at the end of my line so I wouldn’t get lost.

I’ve tried “noodles” in the swimming pool. You know, those long foam tubes you can wrap around and tuck under your arms? Using one of those, I can paddle around with my head out of the water, but I feel like a toddler with water wings.

Finally, last fall I decided to do something about it. Enough with going through contortions, trying every device or technique to stay afloat and breath. I wanted to function under my own power, facing the fear, forging ahead, and emerging victorious once again.

Oh, and I would learn how to swim, too.

follow the continuing saga on my next post…