The Art of Drowning
My worst fear in the world is drowning. Ironic, seeing as I’ve been a swiftwater rescue technician and rescue boat driver for the past few years. But I’ve always had a fear of water… growing up in the desert, I was never really exposed to it except for my pool. Even then, I have two instances in my life in which I thought I was going to drown. Once was when I got trapped under the pool cover at night, trying to swim under it to the other side. I remember expending all my breath on the swim to the other side, but not have the momentum to make it to the end. When I tried to resurface, I hit the cover and inhaled water. I frantically fought the spasms in my chest as I tried to get to the end, charging my way to the light at the end of the pool. It was serene… like I was literally going to the light at the end of the tunnel before I somehow made it to the end and coughed so hard I nearly threw up.
Some days I can’t tell if I’m a fish out of water or a human IN the water. Either way, breathing becomes labored.
I teach wilderness first aid, and in it I cover drowning: the process and the treatments for it. Drowning happens in a few different stages. First, there’s shock. Then there’s exhaustion and breath holding. Once the body can’t hold a breath any longer, water is involuntarily inhaled, which triggers laryngospasms. The body stops receiving oxygen, unconsciousness ensues… death becomes imminent.
For a while there, I was drowning in life. Wading along in the waters, I didn’t realize there was a problem until I gotten into the deep end. By the time I realized my feet were no longer touching the ground I was too far off shore to turn around… or so I thought.
Once I realized there was a problem, I tried to fix it. I peddled, tried to use logic to get myself out of the situation, but the water doesn’t respond to the same logic that I use. The water is unforgiving in that regard. I exhausted myself. I held my breath… I held out hope for rescue. I reach out in the darkness for their hand but it’s not going to come. I have to be my own hero.
But in the absence of oxygen, my body fought to try and function. I began to panic, not knowing what to do next or what was coming for me next. Should I make a move? Should I do something? What if this is it? What if this is why I’m drowning? And suddenly, the panic becomes so overwhelming that I cave into the unyielding need to take a breath and I gulp nothing but water into my lungs. My entire demeanor plunges into chaos. I emotionally spasm. I grasp at straws. Everything flashes before my eyes. My head swirls.
It triggers an old wound inside me that I thought was healed a long time ago, of being liked and accepted. That’s what these spasms are… they’re insecurities screaming in my head: “You must atone for your wrong doings,” “you’re defective,” “people secretly don’t like you,” “it’s your fault this happened to you.” In the absence of any explanation (oxygen in this allegory), my brain tries desperately to connect the dots. And once the spasms stop, and my lungs find equilibrium with the water around me, I am calm.
I’ve read and heard from many people who have experienced non-fatal drownings and what goes on in their minds. Once the burning in their chest stops, and unconsciousness slowly wraps around them like a comforting quilt, they say they experience a sense of peace and tranquility. They experience acceptance for their fate…
So I find myself there now, staring into the light, tranquil… accepting my fate. Forgiving myself for panicking and causing chaos. I choose not to suffer anymore here in the water… I won’t fight fate. It’s not apathy I feel, it’s the opposite. It’s the warmth and serenity of self-worth. Of a deep respect for me and life in general.
Because it doesn’t matter if people like me or not, that doesn’t take away from my value as a person. I do not need to be chosen to be valuable. Because I am whole, standing alone or beside someone.
I am unburdened by the waters that surround me… ready to see what’s on the other side of the light.
Stillness, at last.
I no longer fear drowning in the metaphorical sense. I understand that it’s a consequence of living an authentic life with an open heart.
