I don’t know whether I was born afraid of water, or whether I learnt to fear it.
To be more specific, I was afraid of putting my head underwater. I hated crowded swimming pools, with hoards of boys jumping and splashing and being boisterous. Being “dunked” wasn’t fun, a bit of a laugh, it was traumatic and upsetting.
My first memory of swimming was being taken to swimming lessons with my younger brother. I was six and he was three.
The teacher was, shall we say, old school. This was in the 60s and children were still expected to be obedient. He stood on the edge of the pool with a long pole. Any child who didn’t obey instructions was pushed under with the pole.
Well, except me. No way was I going to be pushed under the water, so I just stood out of reach.
On this particular day, my little brother was the subject of his attention. He was pushed under the water and didn’t come up for what felt like an eternity. Mum and I were frozen with fear, thinking he had drowned.
Eventually he popped up safe and sound, and all seemed to be well. But we never went to swimming lessons again. I always thought Mum and I had been more traumatized than my brother, but he talked about it recently, and said it was years before he was comfortable being in water again. He had been a real water baby, so that was sad to hear.
I have other memories of swimming pools, but the one that stands out was the school swimming sports when I was about 12. Because I would never put my head under water, I had never learnt freestyle and would only do breast stroke, with my head fully above water. So I REALLY didn’t want to enter the “Beginners Width” event, as I knew it would go badly. But the teacher didn’t take no for an answer and I was still a good girl then. Needless to say, by the time even the most inept freestyler had flailed their way to the other side of the pool, I was still only halfway across, breast stroking slowly along. In front of the entire high school. Enough said.
When I was in my thirties, I did a series of personal development courses called Turning Point. They are considered by some to be the precursors of what became Landmark Forum. As a result of the work we were doing, I decided it was time to face my fears and learn to swim properly. So I enrolled in an adult learn to swim class with a very understanding instructor who allowed me to go at my own pace.
I learnt to float, to do backstroke, and finally to “crawl”.
I even acclimatised myself to jumping into the pool from the side, something previously unimaginable. This started by standing on a ledge on the inside of the pool and jumping down a couple of inches, worked up to sitting on the side of the pool, and jumping from a sitting position, and eventually to jumping (well, maybe more slithering) into the pool from a standing position on the side of the pool.
I never got as far as learning to dive, and entering the water from a diving board is still out of the question. I’ll never be a water baby, I prefer looking at water to being on or in it. But I’m happy and proud that I overcame at least part of my antipathy to water, and can be much more comfortable in it.
There’s a warm-up song we sing in choir that makes me smile:
I have other tools in my tool kit now
I have some other ways to deal with fears, of which I seem to have had many over my lifetime. I’ve learnt that I don’t have to be incapacitated by my fears, and there are ways to move on.
My favourite tool is EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique), originally developed by Gary Craig, and now used by thousands of people all over the world. This involves tapping on meridian points while thinking about your issue (more abut that another time). I use this technique with clients in my healing practice, and have used it myself for my own fears.
For example, the thought of speaking in front of people used to be paralysing and I would do anything to avoid it.
I was a member of the Wellington Her Business network at the time, and I had committed myself to speaking in front of the group for 10 minutes, talking about my business. I was not filled with joy at the prospect, but knew I needed to do this. As I traveled into town on the bus, I tapped away, thinking of what was coming. It made a huge difference to how I felt, and the presentation went reasonably smoothly.
Although, as with water, I’m not a natural presenter, I’m much more comfortable being up in front of people now. I’ve given presentations on nutrition to many different groups, and I teach an exercise class for seniors with arthritis every week.
I also used to be so afraid of spiders that I would run screaming from the room if I saw one. Although I would probably still freak out if one actually ran across me, I can happily co-exist in a room with most of them now. Maybe I’ll put it outside with the help of a glass and a piece of cardboard or maybe I’ll just leave him minding his own business in the corner. But it’s not a biggie any more. (Though it does have to be said that I live in New Zealand, where our spiders are mostly not very big or dangerous.)
There’s still work to be done, of course.
I haven’t driven for 20 years, and for various reasons it would be good if I could start to drive again. That will take some doing, but I’m in no rush. When the time feels right, I’ll get out my toolkit and get to work.
Thanks for reading.
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