Sometimes I Get So Weird
The conversation I was having with mom and Kid while we were at Subway (mom was closing, and I developed a habit over the summer of keeping her company while she was doing so that carried over to now) I came to remember something, as I do now and again. I have a problem. It first came to light when I was about six years old and my father threw me off the end of a dock into a pond. This undoubtedly contributed considerably to my current problem, but not as much as it could have. When I was six years old I could swim; but I was in deep water where the bottom was not visible. I freaked then, but everyone thought it was just a kid thing, this fear of deep water.
Fast forward to fourteen years later when I am twenty. Me, Lee and my mother are swimming off the Pictured Rocks and they want to swim across the cove where the bottom is sort of, but not clearly, visible. I say hell no, but they somehow convince me to do it. I get maybe fifteen feet out and go into a full-out panic that ends with me back on the shelf while they continue their insane attempt across the deep water. Why did I freak? Because when I am in deep water (without goggles) my brain immediately begins an intense recital of everything that could be down there - from muskie to sharks to giant crocodiles to giant squid to a fucking crab monster that was in that stupid Deep Star Six movie. Logical or not, my brain freezes in that frame and I bail for the nearest source of solid, not-in-the-water object. Luckily, my brain has been accepting the fact that sharks - a.k.a. my biggest problem when it comes to swimming in the water despite my intense love of water itself - do not live in the Great Lakes or anywhere else I swim.
My comfort has been shattered by the fact that there was a bull shark in Lake Michigan back in 1955. Yes, it was an isolated incident that may never happen again, but it did happen and it's probably written into my brain with permanent marker. I don't like this fear, but it's there. Makes my love of water seem a little strange, eh? And now my eye is doing that tic-twitch thing, ehhhhhhhhhhhh it feels freaky.
And how come talking to the one person that I truly miss makes me suddenly feel terrible? Isn't that backwards? Shouldn't it make me feel, you know, better? Or at least happy, you'd think, because I get to hear her. But no, just makes me want to not talk to her at all. I don't exactly get it. ETA: But she tells you to call her back if you feel like it, because she'll have the phone right there. Only... she doesn't; she's asleep and her mom or grandma answers and that happens to be another irrational fear I have - talking to older people that I woke up. So insomnia gets to have fun tonight.
I should go to bed soon, have to be up relatively early so that we're ready for grandma and grandpa. I have bets on them not getting here until after nine-thirty. Or, if it's before, then around eight instead of nine. Depends on which one is in charge for the day.
Kid: Sharks have pretty much the lowest -
Me: I KNOW THAT!!
Kid: Then why be afraid?
Me: Did I say I was being reasonable? No. I said I was being a freak who is afraid of the deep water.
Fast forward to fourteen years later when I am twenty. Me, Lee and my mother are swimming off the Pictured Rocks and they want to swim across the cove where the bottom is sort of, but not clearly, visible. I say hell no, but they somehow convince me to do it. I get maybe fifteen feet out and go into a full-out panic that ends with me back on the shelf while they continue their insane attempt across the deep water. Why did I freak? Because when I am in deep water (without goggles) my brain immediately begins an intense recital of everything that could be down there - from muskie to sharks to giant crocodiles to giant squid to a fucking crab monster that was in that stupid Deep Star Six movie. Logical or not, my brain freezes in that frame and I bail for the nearest source of solid, not-in-the-water object. Luckily, my brain has been accepting the fact that sharks - a.k.a. my biggest problem when it comes to swimming in the water despite my intense love of water itself - do not live in the Great Lakes or anywhere else I swim.
My comfort has been shattered by the fact that there was a bull shark in Lake Michigan back in 1955. Yes, it was an isolated incident that may never happen again, but it did happen and it's probably written into my brain with permanent marker. I don't like this fear, but it's there. Makes my love of water seem a little strange, eh? And now my eye is doing that tic-twitch thing, ehhhhhhhhhhhh it feels freaky.
And how come talking to the one person that I truly miss makes me suddenly feel terrible? Isn't that backwards? Shouldn't it make me feel, you know, better? Or at least happy, you'd think, because I get to hear her. But no, just makes me want to not talk to her at all. I don't exactly get it. ETA: But she tells you to call her back if you feel like it, because she'll have the phone right there. Only... she doesn't; she's asleep and her mom or grandma answers and that happens to be another irrational fear I have - talking to older people that I woke up. So insomnia gets to have fun tonight.
I should go to bed soon, have to be up relatively early so that we're ready for grandma and grandpa. I have bets on them not getting here until after nine-thirty. Or, if it's before, then around eight instead of nine. Depends on which one is in charge for the day.
Kid: Sharks have pretty much the lowest -
Me: I KNOW THAT!!
Kid: Then why be afraid?
Me: Did I say I was being reasonable? No. I said I was being a freak who is afraid of the deep water.