between the gaps, i was swimming laps. got close to some epiphany
how'd you like to be alone and drowning?
listen while you read: narcolepsy by third eye blind
my biggest fear is drowning. which is ironic because i’m a lifeguard and a swim instructor. i’ve also swam competitively, and i go to the pool regularly to swim laps. i’m a great swimmer and i adore being in the water, so why does drowning trigger such a deep anxiety in me? maybe because of all the training i’ve done, the videos i’ve had to watch of kids drowning because their parents aren’t looking; or maybe it’s a vicarious fear, from the countless people i’ve jumped into the water for, to save them from drowning. but there’s a question that looms over every time: what if i wasn’t there?
but what truly terrifies me is the kind of drowning where you’re trapped: where knowing how to swim doesn’t matter, and you can’t do anything to save yourself as the water slowly creeps up and you gasp for your last breaths of air; succumbing to the last couple of minutes of inevitable panic. fully submerged under the water, struggling for air that isn’t there. you can’t hold your breath anymore. watching the world slowly turn to black.
i haven’t experienced this of course, but i have seen it depicted in so much media. and that, coupled with my extensive understanding and experience with drowning, sends me into a deep panic i can feel directly in my chest—as if i’m already out of air, trapped under the surface of the water.
the main example i always use to describe this fear in conversation is the titanic film (and of course, the real event). i think james cameron so perfectly captures, both cinematically and emotionally, the tragedy of the class inequality and the fact that so many people couldn’t do anything to save themselves.
as most people know, the titanic struck an iceberg, causing significant damage to the ship’s lower compartments, leading to the gradual flooding from the bottom up. this is especially significant because the entirety of the lower class passengers were located in the ship’s lower decks, and there weren’t enough lifeboats on the ship for everyone. the crew even locked the lower class on the bottom deck behind a gate—as the water was pouring in behind them—threatening them with guns, even further restraining them from escaping the rising water. leaving them no choice but to be engulfed by the rising water, trapped with no escape, forced to watch as their inevitable deaths slowly close in. half of the movie is dedicated to the sinking (which happened in full in less than two hours in real life), perfectly capturing the slow and terrifying rise of the water, as each passing minute intensifies the mounting fear.
my point here is that several scenes in the film vividly depict the panic and helplessness of being physically trapped underwater: the frustration of trying everything to escape, only to face the inevitable.
just like these scenes, have you ever felt as if you were drowning like this in a figurative or metaphorical sense? helpless and trapped, no matter how hard you try, you can’t save yourself because you’re locked on the lower decks, and the weight of the situation is holding you down. maybe you’ve felt like you’re screaming underwater—and no one can hear you. i sometimes have dreams where i can’t scream, move, or even keep my eyes open, and it is such a panicked, helpless feeling.
maybe you’ve felt like things have slowly been creeping in, like a leaky faucet, or how the titanic sank, layer by layer, eerily rising up. you didn’t notice it right away because it was kept from you, hidden behind your back. lies, rumours, gossip, drama—especially when you’ve done nothing to deserve it—can sometimes feel like being physically held underwater.
maybe you’re drowning in your own tears. everyone sees it, yet they continue to hold you under for their own gain—to keep themselves afloat. or they see you fighting to escape, but they stand there, holding the key.
over the past couple of years, i’ve experienced a lot of backstabbing, and when it finally comes to the surface it truly does feel like, all of the sudden, you’re about to drown. it’s terrifying because you can do nothing but watch it unfold around you. you feel alone.
how’d you like to be alone and drowning? how’d you like to be alone and drowning? how’d you like to be alone and drowning?
when all you need is a friend; when all you need to escape the ship is to be let out. when you’re begging to be freed from the lower deck, only to be met with a gun pointed at you—held by someone who’s supposed to be there to help—for simply wanting to escape. you watch everything break down around you, the room filling up with water, you take your final breath and…
well, some people did survive the titanic (about 705 of 2240). in the film, jack saves rose, and thankfully, in real life, lifeguards are there to jump in and save you (IF they’re good at their jobs, i unfortunately know too many incompetent lifeguards).
with all that being said, drowning is terrifying. drowning alone is even worse. so surround yourself with lifeguards, and with jacks—people who will save you, not push you down, not lock you up and watch you drown. someone who will never let go.
now you know that there was a jack dawson, and he saved me. in every way a person can be saved.
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such a beautiful piece of writing. 🫶🏽