I rose to the surface of the pool, and I didn’t drown.
Those words still echo in my mind years later, but let me take you back to where it all began – and the terrifying moment that changed everything.
The Water Always Knew My Secret
I never learned to swim as a child. While other kids were doing cannonballs and racing across pools, I was the one who stayed in the shallow end where the water only came up to my neck, pretending I was just fine. But the water knew. It always knew I was afraid.
Fast forward to my adult life, and there I was, taking my niece to swimming classes in Atlanta. Week after week, I’d sit in those bleachers, watching her fearlessly dive and play. She made it look so effortless, so natural.
And there I was – 46 years old, a stroke survivor who had fought back from the brink at 35, relearning to speak and walk, becoming a 200 hour Registered Yoga Teacher and teaching classes even with my post-stroke limp – yet completely helpless in water deeper than my height.
The Moment of Truth
That’s when it hit me like a wave to the face: if she could do it, maybe I could too. The thought was both thrilling and absolutely terrifying. At 46, I made a decision that would either conquer my greatest fear or confirm my worst suspicions about myself.
I was going to learn how to swim.
Baby Steps Into Terror
My first class was humiliating. There I was, a grown adult clutching a flotation device in the shallow end, my hands were shaking. I don’t know if it was extremely cold for my taste, or I was nervous, or a little bit of both. My breath was short. Every instinct screamed at me to get out.
But something deeper kept me there.
My instructor was patient, thank God, because I needed every ounce of that patience. Slowly – painfully slowly – I began to understand how my body could move through water. The shallow end became less of an enemy and more of a reluctant ally.
False Confidence
Progress came in tiny increments. From the shallow end, I graduated to medium depth, trading my flotation device for a belt. Each lesson built what I thought was real confidence. I was actually starting to enjoy this!
Looking back, I realize I was living in a bubble of false security. The belt was my lifeline, my safety net, my permission to pretend I was really swimming.
The Deep End Reckoning
Then came the day that shattered everything. We moved to the deep end for the first time. Even with my trusty flotation belt, my heart was pounding. This was water I couldn’t touch the bottom of. Water that could swallow me whole.
But I had my belt. I was safe. Thirty minutes of swimming in the deep end, and I felt invincible. I was actually doing it! I was conquering my fear!
I had no idea what was coming.
The Bombshell
“We’re not using the flotation belt today.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My coach’s voice seemed to come from underwater, distorted and terrifying. “You’re going to jump into the deep end. Just jump. We’ve got you.”
The world tilted. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t gradual. This was a free fall into my worst nightmare.
Thirty Minutes of Hell
My coach was there, reassuring. The spotter was in the water, ready. Even my little niece was on the sidelines, cheering me on with the fearless enthusiasm that only children possess.
Everyone believed I could do it. Everyone except the person who mattered most – me.
I froze.
For thirty long, agonizing minutes, I stood at the edge of that pool. My mind was a battlefield: “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do it. I’m not ready. What if I panic? What if I sink? What if they can’t save me fast enough?”
The water looked different now. Darker. Deeper. Hungry.
The Surrender
But then something shifted. Maybe it was exhaustion from fighting my fear. Maybe it was seeing my niece’s unwavering belief in me. Maybe it was just time.
I stopped fighting and started trusting. Not in my ability – I still doubted that completely. But in the people around me. In the process. In the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I was stronger than I knew.
I decided to surrender to the moment and jump.
The Miracle
What happened next defies every fear I’d built up over 46 years.
I jumped. I went under. And then…
I rose up.
Not because someone pulled me up. Not because of any device or belt or safety net. But because my body – this body I’d doubted for so long – knew what to do.
I was swimming. Actually swimming. On my own. In the deep end.
The Real Victory
In that moment, treading water without any flotation device, I realized something profound: I hadn’t just learned to swim. I had learned that I was capable of things I never thought possible.
The fear was still there – it probably always will be. But it no longer controlled me. I had proven to myself that I could feel the terror, acknowledge it, and choose courage anyway.
The Ripple Effect
This wasn’t just about conquering water. This was about discovering that the stories I’d told myself about my limitations might not be true. I had already proven that once – surviving a massive stroke at 35, rebuilding my life, learning to teach yoga with a limp. But somehow, water felt different. Water felt impossible.
Now I knew better. That the voice that whispered “you can’t” might be lying – again.
If I could do this – if I could jump into my deepest fear and not only survive but thrive – what else was possible?
The Freedom
I emerged from that pool a different person. Stronger, yes. But more than that – freer.
The water that had once represented danger now represented possibility. The fear that had once paralyzed me now reminded me of my courage. The pool that had once been my enemy was now proof of my resilience.
At 46, I had learned to swim. But more importantly, I had learned to trust myself to do the impossible.
Sometimes the hardest part isn’t the doing – it’s the deciding to trust and take that first, terrifying leap into the unknown.