“She grew daring and reckless, overestimating her strength. She wanted to swim far out, where no woman had swum before.”
– Kate Chopin, The Awakening
When I was a child I nearly drowned in our backyard swimming pool. From then on I was afraid to put my head underwater, so I never became a strong swimmer.
I thought that was the way it would be for the rest of my life, until I was twenty-nine years old and spent a summer working in Scotland. The weather was horrible, even by Scottish standards. Every day the rain poured, dumped and lashed down. I stayed in the warmth of the kitchen cooking, but became desperate for exercise.
The built-in swimming pool behind the house tempted me. The owner said I’d need to be very brave to go in since it wasn’t heated. One afternoon I said to myself, If not now, when? I jumped into the shockingly frigid water. One minute later I jumped out with teeth chattering. The second day I lasted two minutes. It became clear if I wanted to stay in the pool longer I had no choice but to teach myself how to do the crawl so I could swim fast enough to stay warm.
I swam every afternoon no matter how hard the rain fell, or how cold the water was, or how much the wind blew. I swallowed water as I learned to turn my face side to side to breathe. I sputtered. I cursed. But with time the water smoothed the sharp edges of my fears and I let myself move through this new watery world as if supported in a lover’s thirsty embrace.
By the end of summer I could swim laps for an hour. I was proud of my newfound swimming abilities, but what I was most proud about was my willingness to dive into the deep, dark pool of my past.
I still sputter, curse and hold my breath at times. But I’m no longer afraid to dive in. By facing my fears I’ve learned how to swim…in and out of the water.
