I wanted to be the sort of kid that could just fearlessly jump into the deep end.  More than that, I wanted to believe that there would be someone there to catch me.  However, Linda failed to instill this sort of trust.  When she got frustrated enough, she would get out of the pool, stand behind me with her hands gripping my shoulders, and threaten to push me in if I didn’t jump.  Once, she did push me in, if for no other reason than to prove she meant it.

I never did learn to swim.  I did, however, develop an overwhelming fear of deep water, along with an entire ocean of other catastrophic fears.  I do not believe when someone tells me I should take a risk, assuring me that I will be okay.  I look before I leap and if I don’t like what I see, (which is almost always, and if I don’t actually see it, I imagine it), or if I can’t be absolutely certain where I will end up or in what condition, I’d rather just stay where I am…thank you very much, but no thank you.  However, it is just as hard for me to breathe above water.  Staying safe on the side, not jumping in and taking the risk, can, in many ways, feel exactly like drowning.

© Salahub 2003