From Love to Kryptonite

Rain on my bare legs annoys me. Water in my ears is the most frustrating thing ever. Dunk me and you’ve just picked a fight. Water is not my thing, unless it’s the refreshing, drinking kind of course. As you can probably tell, I have some history with water. Water changed my life.

I learned how to swim super young and have spent most of my life around water. I was learning to swim shortly after learning to walk. The beach was only a 30 minute drive, so you better believe we spent a lot of time there. If we weren’t on a ball field, we could be found enjoying the gulf. Plus, Clearwater Beach was a gem back in the day! I think I tried every water activity that existed; from jet skis to boogie boarding to skim boarding. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t attempt. 

Growing up, my mom used to take me and my sisters to the sandbars during low tide, which were probably 150 yards or so away from the beach. The cool part—the water was pretty shallow swimming out there, so we could make it without much trouble. We collected sand dollars and admired how far we swam from the beach. We did however, go out on boogie boards most of the time. How else were we going to bring back all our sand dollars and shells? We would wait for the tide to come in. It’s amazing how quickly we went from comfortably standing on the ocean floor at about waist deep, to suddenly not being able to touch the bottom. The waves were coming in and crashing at shore. We were forced to swim back—like actually swim. Luckily the waves and boogie boards helped take us in. We did this just about every time we went to the beach. It was how I learned to swim. I wasn't afraid. I loved it. 

As a result of frequenting the beach often, I became a strong swimmer, younger than most, and without official lessons. Sometimes the best teachers are experiences. If I didn’t learn how to make it back to shore, I would’ve drowned. A simple yet frightening thought and a bit dramatic, I might add. My mom did a pretty good job teaching me what I needed to know as well, especially when it came to the ocean. I could take on the rip currents and under tows like a champ! I was fearless in the water. 

After elementary school, we relocated to southwestern Virginia. Mountains everywhere. The Appalachians to be exact. There was no beach. No ocean to be seen. The only beach we had was our Margaritaville dream! We were hours from the nearest shore line. Forget about the daily or even weekend trips to the beach. That was out of the question. We resorted to an annual Myrtle Beach trip to meet our salt life needs. Aside from that, I learned to adapt to my new environment. Lakes and rivers became the new normal for my water adventures. If you haven’t yet been, Smith Mountain Lake is absolutely gorgeous. A hidden gem, really! I spent many of my middle and high school days enjoying that giant waterhole. This is where I learned how to wake board and drive a boat, among other freshwater activities. Again, if it was available to try, I was on it. It’s where I lost multiple pairs of Oakleys and fishing poles. Plenty of memories to go around, for sure. 

Fast forward to my later years, Nick and I enjoyed our honeymoon on an island. Neither of us really “water people” at the time but the price was right and it came with tons of recommendations. Lots and lots of water surrounded us. We didn’t spend that much time in it, even though it looked incredible and just like the pictures. But nonetheless, we appreciated the getaway for what it was worth! Sidenote—our ten year anniversary is this year and I highly doubt we will be heading to an island!

So what happened in between the beach days, the lake days, our honeymoon and beyond? The short answer—traumatic experiences shaped my new mindset and gave me a whole new respect of water and it’s capabilities. I’ve never taken any formal classes to become a lifeguard but I’ve saved numerous drowning victims, including my little sister, when I was probably about 7. You could’ve used that girl as a boat anchor she sank so fast! Her 5 year old, 3-second attention span self, was way too excited to put those floaties back on before plunging right into that pool. 

From there, I found myself risking my life to save others from drowning, another handful or so times. Although the results were always favorable, none of the experiences were pleasant. It typically involved me going in without any floatation device because it happened so fast each time. Bad idea. Each and every time. There’s a reason you’ve never seen a lifeguard do that—because it’s not smart. But I already told you I wasn’t a lifeguard so I just went off instincts. A couple times, I nearly drowned as the people I was trying to rescue, panicked and latched onto me like a leech. One kid actually grabbed a hold of my neck and held on for dear life. I ripped him off—held him with one arm and tried to swim both of us back to the dock with my free arm. I hope I never find myself in that situation again! It was brutal. But those events didn’t really create a fear of water for me. I never blamed water, but rather inexperience or just plain accidents. They happen. 

I did however experience my own near-drowning event. And not just me, but Nick too. Talk about scary! This is where my mindset toward water completely changed. Let me start by saying if you’ve never been to the Youghigheny River in Western PA, you may have heard of it. Why? Well, because it has taken more than a handful of lives over the years—and it doesn’t discriminate. It takes experienced kayakers and novice waders just the same. When the time is right and the water level is perfect, you can find incredible class III-IV rapids in the lower section. It’s a popular white water rafting destination, east of the Mississippi. 

Nick and I decided to do a DIY float down the lower Yough'. The company we used shall remain nameless, however allowed us to rent a ducky and take on the waters with very minimal experience. Once you sign the waiver, you’re free to go. Their hands are clear! We watched the quick safety video and learned about the various rapids and our take out point. We were in a rubber kayak. They are known to remain fairly steady in rapids, so we felt pretty confident. We had on our PFDs and helmets and were ready to go. 

Most of it was pretty exciting! The adrenaline rush was like none other at some points. We knew about ‘Dimple Rock’—the rapid that claims a lot of people. We opted to be smart and walk that section. There was a path, conveniently located at that spot, for just that reason. We got back in and continued on down river. We got stuck a couple of times and kind of tossed around but that was to be expected. 

At one point however, we were both thrown from the ducky. It seemed crazy. There were no visible rapids—it just appeared as ripples on the surface of the water, or a riffle in whitewater terms. The water wasn’t very deep but I made the first mistake by trying to stand up to gain footing. Don’t do this! I repeat—DON'T EVER DO THIS! I was immediately swept under and caught in a hydraulic as it’s known, and tumbled around like laundry in a washing machine. I had no idea which way was up. I’m not even sure how long I was under, but it felt like an eternity. I’m thankful, for the helmet I had on because it saved my head that was bashing off rocks as I was violently jostled below. I finally popped up, in a panicked state and completely out of breath. I felt relief but just for a brief moment. As I surfaced, Nick was nowhere to be found. I screamed for him—nothing. There’s was no response. There was no one around.  I didn’t know what to do. I managed to get myself to some rocks so that I could climb out and try to find him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, once again, his head popped up as he gasped for air. Apparently he was sucked under as well. He surfaced a good bit away from me. It was the craziest and scariest thing ever. 

PFDs work, but not in that situation. We were just flat out lucky. There is no other way to explain it. The hydraulic was so fierce, it took both of my shoes, and the oakleys I was wearing, right off my face. One of our oars was also gone, probably long down river. We were both alive, however. I consider that a win! We didn’t have any other choice but to get back in that damn ducky, which was hanging on by a rock, likely the one responsible for our accident, and float our way to the take out point. It was miserable. I was miserable. I hurt all over. Such a disaster. I had no desire to ever step foot into water again after that. I know. I know—quite the dramatic response but I was over it. 

Apparently Nick wasn’t as traumatized as I was because although he’s not really a fan of water, he’s not fearful. Me on the other hand—a very different narrative. I have stepped foot in water since that incident but I’m mostly reluctant to do so. But as the saying goes, 'you gotta get back on the horse’. It’s just different now. I know how to swim but if I get to a point where I can no longer stand, I instantly panic. It’s so bizarre. 

I didn’t realize this was the case until a couple years ago on a camping trip. Nick and I were playing a random keep away/dodgeball-ish game in a lake with some friends. It was super fun. The water was shallow, like up to our chest at most. However, at one point, the ball went past me. Without any hesitation, I waded to go get it. It gradually got deeper but not super deep by any means. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t touch the bottom anymore. No big deal—just swim, right? Nope! I had an internal freak out session. I turned back and told Nick he had to get it. It wasn’t that far away but I convinced myself I was too tired to swim out and get it. Absolutely ridiculous! I know how to swim, but it’s like I instantly forgot and started to panic—and for no good reason. 

I’ve become a fish out of water except I don’t have intentions of finding my way back. It’s crazy how I went from swimming out to sandbars at 5 years old to being terrified of water over my head. That’s a sad state of affairs, folks! Water has literally become my kryptonite. I will say that my first choice of something to do, typically doesn’t involve water. I hope with time, my fear will subside. I’m not one to shy away from fear, but subconsciously I stop myself from doing something I am completely capable of. I know I’m not the only one, but I recognize it in myself. It’s always interesting to me how various traumatic events change us.