continued from “ready to take the plunge?” 

It wasn’t only that I was too old NOT to know how to swim, but I needed to reconnect with that gutsy ten-year old. The one that jumped off the diving board totally trusting that she would be safe. She wasn’t afraid of anything—stood up to teachers, her parents, and the school bully. The last few years have beaten me down and I missed her.

My husband was critically ill; it changed him, it changed us. Even as his health improved, I gave all of my vitality to his needs and kept nothing for myself. One by one, activities and involvements fell away. I was afraid to even dip my toe into anything for fear of disaster…disappointment…drowning. I was tormented; barely had the life force to see a few friends or family members, to work, or get a little exercise. Anything I did took every ounce of energy I had, but I hung onto those few things as I would a life preserver– and they saved me.

I know I’m a survivor. I’ve been down before, but have always healed and come back stronger. Alas, the ability to begin the upward ascent usually doesn’t begin until I just about hit bottom. Well, I was there; it was time to “…raise my arms up”, resurface, and…

…get back into the pool.

Outfitted with my brand new swimming goggles and bathing cap, I was ready for anything. I was told the cap keeps the hair off your face (it does) and the goggles keep the chlorinated water out of your eyes (they do). Then I caught myself in the mirror. I don’t know what scared me more—the deep end of the pool or my reflection.

I grew up watching old movies, so I know my expectations were skewed, but this was a far cry from “The Million Dollar Mermaid”, Esther Williams rising from the water–flawless in a sequined suit, fancy hairdo, and false eyelashes. I suppose somebody might rock a skin-tight Kelly green bathing cap (the only one large enough to fit my head), but for me, hair is a much better look.

Get over the “pretty” thing, Laura; you’re here to swim.

Getting over that was part of jumping in. How many times have I not done something because I didn’t look just right? The voice in my head keeps after me, “Is your stomach flat enough? Your thighs could be thinner. Aren’t you embarrassed to let anyone see you like this?” Each time I head for the pool, I look to the mirror, deep into my soul and say, “Thank you for sharing, but please SHUT UP!”

Ok, so I’m a not perfect. I’m old enough to live with that now. If I were 30, 40, or even 50 I would have to wrestle with that demon before facing the other monster—gasp…

…deep water!

We were at the lake with another family. Their boat was a little offshore and somebody yelled for everyone to “come on!” so I dutifully followed instructions. I didn’t realize that the water was deeper than I was tall, and as my feet slipped out from under me, I began bobbing up and down. Everyone already onboard was dealing with my mother—who didn’t swim either (to this day, by the way). She was kicking and squealing as they teased about throwing her into the lake. Nobody was paying any attention to the four-year old me.

After swallowing what seemed like fifty gallons of water, I was pulled into the boat and that was that. Before I’d ever had a lesson, I was branded a non-swimmer, and accepted my fate unconditionally. After all, my mother was a non-swimmer so it must be all right—maybe even desirable.   Amazing what the subconscious mind of a child will validate. It’s a miracle that I jumped into that pool six years later, or ever again.

Fast forward…

I’ve overcome the fear of my green bathing cap and the deep end of the pool. It wasn’t easy, but my teachers are kind, patient, and encouraging. The first time I swam a full length, we started in the deep end and I didn’t have the security of my feet on the ground. It took me forever to let go of the edge and push off, but I finally did it. I wouldn’t have felt more triumphant had I been Diana Nyad on her successful swim from Havana to Key West!

Learning to swim has given me the confidence to try other new things. The most significant being the things I’ve decided not to do anymore–things that I thought were important, things that I thought were me, things that I thought I had to do; all are re-evaluated on a daily basis. Not that I was living a lie, I really, really, really did things that I wanted to do. It’s just that by conquering certain fears and limitations; what I want to do has changed.  Everyday is a surprise!

There is at least one constant though; I do wish I had that Esther Williams’ style…!