LJ Idol Season 11: I'm the Usain Bolt of Running From My Problems
I stood there on the high dive shivering with knees knocking. Everyone made it look so easy. You just point and raise your arms above your head together, bend over, and go off the diving board. Even the little kids younger than me could do this!
"C'mon already, go!" another child yelled. "You got this!" I heard a cheering voice encourage me. I tentatively raised my hands, stared at the water for a few moments. Why was this so hard? I got this, I told myself. And then I imagined crashing my head into the cement ground and I shuddered at the image in my head. Disappointed, I turned around and climbed off the diving board while the next person in line ran up the stairs and executed what looked to my untrained eye, a flawless dive. I sat down at the pool chair dejectedly. All I wanted to do is dive like the other kids. Why was it so hard?
...
My mom used to tell me and anyone who would listen this story of a friend of a friend's son. Now, I wonder how true it was or was it just a story she heard. To be honest, I don't even know if she even knew this person. But the story she told went like this. A friend's son, not much older than me, used to love to go swimming and diving. The family even had a backyard pool so that he could practice. One day, he went diving into the shallow end and cracked his head on the cement floor of the pool. From that day on, he was paralyzed from the neck down unable to move. That story terrified her and in turn me.
...
For the most part, I taught myself how to swim as a child. My Aba would lay outside by the pool all day tanning but I have very few memories of him actually in the water with me. My mom, I only have one memory of her in the pool with me. I was maybe 4 or 5 and we went to a local indoor pool with her friend and her friend's daughter who is two years or so younger than me. I remember being jealous that the daughter could swim better than me but she received formal swim lessons. I never did. I'm not a very good swimmer but I can get across a pool and back (I'm great at doggy paddling). I can tread water. I can jump in a pool . I can float on my back.
But don't ask me to dive.
....
I stood on the diving board again. This time a little older, maybe 10 years old. My friends convinced me to at least try jumping off the diving board even if I couldn't dive in. I bounced gently on the diving board, blocking out the image in my mind of hitting my head as best as I could. If I could jump in, I could finally figure out how to dive, I rationalized. I held my breath, bounced once more, and jumped in. As I tucked my knees beneath me, hitting the water, I felt the rush of relief crash over me that I finally jumped off the diving board.
A few minutes later, feeling empowered by my jump, I climbed back onto the diving board determined to figure out how to dive. I stood there quietly bouncing on the diving board, feeling the wobbly board beneath my feet. I got this, I told myself. I raised my arms shakily above my head as my friends had modeled for me, leaned forward, and that image of an unknown child hitting their head on the cement floor, paralyzed, crashed into me. With wobbly legs, I straightened back up, turned around, and climbed back off the diving board.
...
I floated in the deep end of the pool waiting for my turn. My friends came up with the great idea the summer before 9th grade to become lifeguards to make extra money that summer. I was in. Never mind that I can't swim well, I liked the idea of hanging out at the pool and making money. To do so, we had to take a test: be able to swim across the deep end in a certain amount of time, tread water for a minute, and dive in the water. This was going to be the summer, I figured, that I would finally learn how to dive. I watched my friends swim gracefully across the pool. I wasn't going to look as graceful but I could get across the pool. I practiced treading water and I could do that for however long the lifeguard wanted. We got through the swimming and the treading water parts. It was time to dive. I stood at the edge of the pool, just like my friends had modeled for me, raised my arms, looked down at the bottom of the pool...and then shaking, turned around and sat back down. I never did get that job.
...
I deal with a lot of my fears on a regular basis. I have a fear of needles but going through regular bloodwork, IVF, and especially being a diabetic will make you face that fear of needles. I now give myself daily shots of insulin and check my blood sugar and while I will flinch, I can look at the needle and give myself a shot (my next needle phobia I need to work on is getting over my fear of the IV but in fairness I've had a traumatic experience with an IV). I have a fear of falling down stairs (and falling up) and especially stairs where I can see through them but I don't stop myself from going up and down stairs, even if you will see me either holding a railing tightly or my husband holding my hand. I also have a fear of ladders but it won't stop me from climbing a ladder even while knees shaking and wanting to cry because I don't want to miss out on whatever the view is at the top.
Yet, I've never actually been able to face my fear of diving which I've also realized as an adult has translated into a fear of snorkeling and scuba as well. I get sad still to this day when I watch my husband and/or friends dive in the pool with ease and without an anxious thought in the world because I don't think I'll ever get to that point. As much as I love the idea of scuba and snorkeling, you can't pay me enough to put my face underwater and stay underwater long enough to look at fish, let alone deep sea diving. The idea terrifies me even if logically I know that you can't hit your head in the ocean on a cement floor.
However, the one thing I'm determined is that my son not acquire this fear from me. I want him to have swim lessons as soon as he's old enough to be able to learn to swim and dive lessons as well. And while I know I will cringe and worry as I watch him on the diving board, but I will cheer him on in that first dive and every dive he makes.
Just don't ask me to dive with him.
Note: This was written for LJ Idol's Week 23 intersection where we had to pair up with another person and write based on two given quotes: "I'm the Usain Bolt of Running From My Problems" and "If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn." I paired up with my awesome BFFL lyssa027 who tackled the other quote where she actually faced her fear and won which you can read here. I recommend checking out her story along with all the other awesome stories!
"C'mon already, go!" another child yelled. "You got this!" I heard a cheering voice encourage me. I tentatively raised my hands, stared at the water for a few moments. Why was this so hard? I got this, I told myself. And then I imagined crashing my head into the cement ground and I shuddered at the image in my head. Disappointed, I turned around and climbed off the diving board while the next person in line ran up the stairs and executed what looked to my untrained eye, a flawless dive. I sat down at the pool chair dejectedly. All I wanted to do is dive like the other kids. Why was it so hard?
...
My mom used to tell me and anyone who would listen this story of a friend of a friend's son. Now, I wonder how true it was or was it just a story she heard. To be honest, I don't even know if she even knew this person. But the story she told went like this. A friend's son, not much older than me, used to love to go swimming and diving. The family even had a backyard pool so that he could practice. One day, he went diving into the shallow end and cracked his head on the cement floor of the pool. From that day on, he was paralyzed from the neck down unable to move. That story terrified her and in turn me.
...
For the most part, I taught myself how to swim as a child. My Aba would lay outside by the pool all day tanning but I have very few memories of him actually in the water with me. My mom, I only have one memory of her in the pool with me. I was maybe 4 or 5 and we went to a local indoor pool with her friend and her friend's daughter who is two years or so younger than me. I remember being jealous that the daughter could swim better than me but she received formal swim lessons. I never did. I'm not a very good swimmer but I can get across a pool and back (I'm great at doggy paddling). I can tread water. I can jump in a pool . I can float on my back.
But don't ask me to dive.
....
I stood on the diving board again. This time a little older, maybe 10 years old. My friends convinced me to at least try jumping off the diving board even if I couldn't dive in. I bounced gently on the diving board, blocking out the image in my mind of hitting my head as best as I could. If I could jump in, I could finally figure out how to dive, I rationalized. I held my breath, bounced once more, and jumped in. As I tucked my knees beneath me, hitting the water, I felt the rush of relief crash over me that I finally jumped off the diving board.
A few minutes later, feeling empowered by my jump, I climbed back onto the diving board determined to figure out how to dive. I stood there quietly bouncing on the diving board, feeling the wobbly board beneath my feet. I got this, I told myself. I raised my arms shakily above my head as my friends had modeled for me, leaned forward, and that image of an unknown child hitting their head on the cement floor, paralyzed, crashed into me. With wobbly legs, I straightened back up, turned around, and climbed back off the diving board.
...
I floated in the deep end of the pool waiting for my turn. My friends came up with the great idea the summer before 9th grade to become lifeguards to make extra money that summer. I was in. Never mind that I can't swim well, I liked the idea of hanging out at the pool and making money. To do so, we had to take a test: be able to swim across the deep end in a certain amount of time, tread water for a minute, and dive in the water. This was going to be the summer, I figured, that I would finally learn how to dive. I watched my friends swim gracefully across the pool. I wasn't going to look as graceful but I could get across the pool. I practiced treading water and I could do that for however long the lifeguard wanted. We got through the swimming and the treading water parts. It was time to dive. I stood at the edge of the pool, just like my friends had modeled for me, raised my arms, looked down at the bottom of the pool...and then shaking, turned around and sat back down. I never did get that job.
...
I deal with a lot of my fears on a regular basis. I have a fear of needles but going through regular bloodwork, IVF, and especially being a diabetic will make you face that fear of needles. I now give myself daily shots of insulin and check my blood sugar and while I will flinch, I can look at the needle and give myself a shot (my next needle phobia I need to work on is getting over my fear of the IV but in fairness I've had a traumatic experience with an IV). I have a fear of falling down stairs (and falling up) and especially stairs where I can see through them but I don't stop myself from going up and down stairs, even if you will see me either holding a railing tightly or my husband holding my hand. I also have a fear of ladders but it won't stop me from climbing a ladder even while knees shaking and wanting to cry because I don't want to miss out on whatever the view is at the top.
Yet, I've never actually been able to face my fear of diving which I've also realized as an adult has translated into a fear of snorkeling and scuba as well. I get sad still to this day when I watch my husband and/or friends dive in the pool with ease and without an anxious thought in the world because I don't think I'll ever get to that point. As much as I love the idea of scuba and snorkeling, you can't pay me enough to put my face underwater and stay underwater long enough to look at fish, let alone deep sea diving. The idea terrifies me even if logically I know that you can't hit your head in the ocean on a cement floor.
However, the one thing I'm determined is that my son not acquire this fear from me. I want him to have swim lessons as soon as he's old enough to be able to learn to swim and dive lessons as well. And while I know I will cringe and worry as I watch him on the diving board, but I will cheer him on in that first dive and every dive he makes.
Just don't ask me to dive with him.
Note: This was written for LJ Idol's Week 23 intersection where we had to pair up with another person and write based on two given quotes: "I'm the Usain Bolt of Running From My Problems" and "If you don't live it, it won't come out of your horn." I paired up with my awesome BFFL lyssa027 who tackled the other quote where she actually faced her fear and won which you can read here. I recommend checking out her story along with all the other awesome stories!