Drowning

My friend Sara and I were chatting this morning before I came to work. I was having my coffee and entering sweepstakes, which I usually do most mornings before work. She had been swimming the night before and we discussed it. I mentioned a fear of water and she asked if I knew why or if it was a deep rooted fear that needed exploring. I said that I almost drowned when I was 12. As I thought about it, I realized it would make a good journal post.

The incident was all off 15 or 20 mins, but the repercussions lasted for years. I couldn't put my head under water, not even in the shower until I was 24. Charles, my ex-fiance would do his best to get me to dunk myself in the shallow area of the pool that we had at the apartment I lived at when I was 26. I finally did to please him. It took all my courage though and I was shaking when I got out of the water, something I hid from him, pretending to be cold instead of confessing what it cost me.

I do not know how to swim. I should learn, but part of the fear still lives on.

In a reply to a story Steve posted in one of my poetry groups back in 2002, called Surf. I wrote a brief reply, describing the near drowning. I didn't go into many details. I went through the archives of the group and found my reply. I'm adding to it. But the essence is here.

When I was twelve I almost drowned. It was June--a month after my beloved stepfather died, sometime after school closed for the summer. My Step-Aunt Janice and her family invited my siblings and me to come to the beach with them. She had two boys who were our ages, Wayne 11 & William 9. William and John my brother were best friends. Wayne was one of those guys who liked to hang out with girls (He came out of the closet in the early 90's). One of our older stepsisters, Libby came along with us. She was a "grownup" but very immature, so we got along great with her. Mom didn't come with us. She had to deal with the farming.

The motel was at Long Beach NC, right across from the pier with a game room. In fact, Rick Flair the wrestler was there that week, hanging out at the pier and drinking beer in the parking lot. Libby flirted with him but he had eyes for some barely legal blondes and ignored her. I wasn't impressed with him. He was as loud in real life as he was on TV. This was during his beginning years. When I see him on the Wrestling shows, I think of my drowning. He isn't one of my favorite people.

It was Friday and we were leaving that Sunday to go back home. The weather was sunny but the clouds were gray and so was the water. I remember that we placed our blanket and towels close to the lifeguard station. I would be 13 in 4 months and had begun to notice guys. The lifeguard that was on duty most of the time during our beach play was a cute tanned blonde guy. He would smile at us. At 12, I had a C cup and looked older-the bane of being the first to develop in my class. But I was still naïve and innocent. Not to mention very shy.

That day, we played in the water, never going past waist level. I remember the waves were strong and kept knocking us over. My brother played in the sand with William, building forts. Lisa, Wayne, Libby and I were in the water. Suddenly our laughter stopped. We felt the water trying to pull us away from the shore and Libby said we should go back to the blankets for a while. But she slipped and was in a "sink hole"--a dip in the floor of the ocean. She called out and I was the closest to her, so I reached for her.Suddenly I was swept out bey the under current. She was probably six feel or more infront of me. I started going under. Each time I surfaced, I screamed for help and swallowed water. I remember seeing a lady at the shore, standing in the shallows, watching me as I went under. I saw Libby moving towards shore, abandoning any attempt to get me, because I was too far out.

Survival instincts took over. I quit screaming and concentrated on living. I remember thinking, "Kick hard," when I hit the bottom and "Breathe when I broke surface. I don't how long I did this. My eyes were open under the water. I saw small silver fish darting, seaweed floating and the bottom of the ocean was a washed out tan. I remember fatigue hitting me so strongly that I knew I would be making my last kick to get my last breath of air... I thought of my mother and how sad she would be. As I surfaced I barely got a breath before I began to sink. I had given up. I guess my right hand was still above water, because suddenly I was yanked upward. When I broke the liquid chains, I heard a voice in my ear, saying "Relax, I've got you." It was the handsome blonde lifeguard, who I had covertly checked out earlier. I coughed up wather as he swam us back to shore. That swim seemed longer than my time struggling in the wet prison, trying to fight for my freedom. He kept reassuring me that I was okay, that he wouldn't let me go.

My cousin William had run to tell his mom that I couldn't get out of the water--the lifeguard overheard him. Libby and the other kids were screaming at the woman in the shallows to do something. I guess she thought we were playing a game, because she ignored them. Thank God William ran over to his mom or I would have died. We went back to the motel room, after I was able to stand. The Lifeguard stayed by my side the whole time. I'll never forget how safe I felt. It was like being wrapped in an emotional security blanket.

I blotted out a lot of it for years--the burning of my lungs, the taste of salt water and the consequential vomiting afterwards. You know, some say that right before you die that your life flashes before your eyes. Mine didn't. I felt sadness for my Mom, but it wasn't the strongest feeling I had as I struggled. I fought hard to live. For days, the muscles in my body, mainly my legs and arms were strained. But when I accepted that I couldn't fight anymore, I knew a peace that I have yet to feel again in my life. When I embraced it, the vivid image of the being in the water and aware of my surrounding started to dim. My eyes closed and that's all I remember, as I started sinking. Death would have been peaceful, like sleep I think. Though that peace offered comfort, nothing made my heart as happy as knowing I was saved and I would see Mom again.

I still love the ocean. It taught me that beauty can be deadly.