Getting Wet

Underwater play is one of those ideas that initially occurred to me in the form, "Ha, that would be a stupid thing to do!" It waited 'til I wasn't looking anymore and then sneakily morphed from stupid to fascinating. Sometimes I don't understand how my own mind works.

When I was very little, I nearly drowned twice, once in a swimming pool and once under an inflatable boat in the ocean. Upon becoming a slightly bigger little kid, I took basic swimming lessons, and I did okay. I didn't like putting my face in the water but eventually got over it and learned to love swimming fully underwater. I learned to snorkel in the Cayman islands around the age of 10 or 12 and fell in love; I spent hours drifting in the ocean, admiring the reefs and the fish, discovering a beautiful wonderland.

Around 14 or so, I suddenly developed a fear of swimming pools. I was swimming at my neighbor's, and upon opening my eyes underwater, the sight of the distorted floor and walls and the lights and the drains looking back at me was suddenly the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. I exited with haste and never looked at pools the same way again. I'll still get in them, but they freak me the hell out. I've never really understood what happened that day.

During a class trip to Mexico around my 18th birthday, I nearly drowned again. We were swimming in the Gulf, and I stumbled off an underwater cliff, got pulled under a wave by the riptide, and sucked in a lungful of ocean. Flailing and choking, I had the presence of mind to wait for a dip between waves and scream for help before going under again. A classmate heard me, grabbed me, and swam me to shore, where I puked on my teacher's feet and then sat shivering in the hot sun for a while, processing what had just happened.

I will still get into water, but I avoid the ocean, and I usually don't put my head in. Recently, however, I've been on a roll of facing down my fears, and I decided to add this one to the list. I'm doing damn well conquering my fear of heights (which also cropped up mysteriously in my early teens), and water is my new project.

Aiden, Shelby, their friend Carrie, little Aiden, and I went to Shelby's grandparents' yesterday and spent a lovely hot afternoon in their pool. I began with a jump off the diving board and then started trying to do handstands in the shallow end. I used to be able to do them, but I couldn't seem to figure it out. Every time I put my head under, I lasted about five seconds before popping up again, fighting back panic.

Carrie pointed out there were swim goggles in the poolhouse, and I went and grabbed a pair. Not having to constantly wipe the chlorine out of my eyes would certainly help. With shiny new purple fish eyes, I left the handstands for later and started doing bobs to reaccustom myself to putting my head under the water repeatedly.

I noticed Aiden watching me intently and gave him a quizzical look.

"I've never seen you have such an intense panic response," he said. "It's really interesting."

"Have I mentioned that I don't like water?"

"Of course. It makes me think twice about playing with you in this environment."

"Well, not right away," I agreed. "I'm working on it on my own right now. But I'll get there."

By the end of the afternoon, I could go from edge to edge completely underwater. I couldn't quite make end-to-end yet, but I'll get there. I really like that particular pool because it has no floor drain, making the underwater view more scenic than threatening.

I spent the last half hour or so sharing Aiden's inner tube, cuddled up on his back with my chin on his shoulder, while the three of them discussed the merits of carnivals and theme parks. Eventually the girls got out, and Aiden turned to face me. We were still squeezed together in the inner tube, so I picked up my legs and wrapped them around his waist.

"Look what you did," he said, after a few minutes of kissing and petting. I didn't need to look; I could feel him.

I grinned. "I'd say sorry...but I'd be lying."