They packed a cooler of beer, and all six adults plus me, loaded onto the over-crowded boat. Thinking back, I'm quite certain we exceeded the paddleboat's weight limit, and my overly-anxious-adult-self, wouldn't set foot on that tiny boat today, even if you paid me money. They ordered me to leave my muddy shoes on the dilapidated wooden peer, so I sat barefoot on the back ledge while the adults occupied the seats and the front of the boat. They paddled and drank and spoke in boring adult talk about things I didn't understand, nor cared to. I dangled my feet over the edge of the boat, searching for signs of mermaids and watching dragonflies and water skippers dancing on the water's surface. The algae growth in the middle of summer created a murky, yet mesmerizing shade of green in the pond. A chorus of bullfrogs croaked from their grassy hiding spots, and turtles sunbathed on a huge boulder rising up out of the water. Cupped pink blossoms stood on dainty stems of their floating pads. It's paradise, I thought.
The adults drank more, their voices louder, and their laughter rocked the boat. Peering into the water, I leaned over a bit too far, and slipped into a cool, wet, darkness. Holding my breath, my thin body plunged down, down, down until my toes touched a soft bottom. Thoughts of water monsters and big fish and drowning swirled in my mind. I opened my eyes to a blurry green and fought against tall tendrils reaching for me, tangling around me, grabbing a hold of me. Glancing up with burning eyes, I saw light, the sunlight from the blue sky above, and kicked like I'd never kicked before. Shooting up, I waved my arms and blew out all my air, like I'd done in swim lessons only weeks before when I'd jumped in the deep end. Still battling the underwater plants, I managed to swim for the light and broke the water's surface, gasping, flailing, and choking. Am I dying? I thought.
Hands pulled me up onto the back of the boat. My father's hands. He hugged me as I cried softly against his shoulder, shivering. Frightened. Embarrassed. Humiliated. My father gave me his long-sleeved denim shirt he'd taken off due to the heat and helped me wrap it around my shaking body. After asking me if I was okay, he crawled back up front with the rest of the adults. Folding my knees into my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs, careful not to get too close to the ledge of the boat. I didn't say anything on the boat ride back to the peer, but as I observed the water rushing out from behind the boat, my fantasy of mermaids being real disappeared. Mermaids can't be real, I remember thinking, because if so, they would've saved me. Right?
My pond story is a true story. I've never forgotten it, and still to this day, have a fear of small boats and water where I can't see the bottom.
If I apply the story to my own battle with depression, it teaches me that if I fight hard enough, lean onto others when I need to, and refuse to give up, I can beat it. Falling into that pond on the warm summer day, when all seemed right in the world, reminds me a lot of depression and its counterparts, anxiety & panic attacks.
Let me explain: Depression can come out of nowhere and happen when you least expect it. It's like being submersed in murky water. Unclear focus, loss of hope, dread, and doom. Bouts of anxiety are the tall plant tendrils tangling around my legs and not being able to get away from them. Panic is kicking, struggling, and fighting to get out of the water, all while trying to not drown or let the monsters get me. Seeing the light above, swimming towards it, and the hands pulling me from the water are like rising up, support, and recovery.
Heal, rise, & shine ~ C.
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