Swim, It's Okay

 So the image in my head over these last couple of days has been little Deandra hanging onto the side of the swimming pool for dear life. See, I used to do this thing where I knew that I could swim, loved it even, but I was terrified to let go of the wall. Like I'd maybe get juuuuuuuust adventurous enough to inch over to the ladder, and start doing some kicks off of it. Of course, I was still gripping the ladder because...I was just "practicing."  (Practicing what? Girl you could swim, damn)

Now I loved swimming. I loved being in the pool. I started swimming lessons at an early age (thanks white mom!), and I was frequently one of the better swimmers in the class. But sometimes? Despite that? I was afraid to let go of the side. The thought of 1. Getting eaten by JAWS, obviously, (look, it's a real fear, I KNOW I'm not the only one who experienced this. Also, can we talk about how much of a disservice that movie was to sharks. A whole fucking campaign against sharks. Anti-shark propaganda, if you will), and 2. I didn't feel ready to let go completely. The wall, while also holding me back, felt like a pretty comfortable place to be. Less risky. 

But here was the dilemma Little Deandra kept running into: how was I going to do what I loved without letting go? 

Especially when I knew:

Swimming was freedom. I felt so at peace and at home in the water. I felt alive. Stepping into a pool...how do I describe it? Melting. The deep sigh of contentment. Like that hug from someone you love where you just exhale, lean into them, and lose yourself in the feeling of "Hey, I gotchu." 

"I gotchu." says the water. Which...from water might not always be a comfort? But just go with me here because it's *my* comfort. 

See, I thought the wall was saying, "I gotchu." And it did for a while. It kept me safe, I felt secure to explore the water...with my legs. Because that was the only part of me that was free to "swim" while hanging onto the wall. But eventually, in order to find and experience one of my greatest loves, I had to say goodbye to my anchor, the wall, and embrace the freedom of the water. I had to let go in order to swim. To do handstands. To dive to the depths of, what was it, 13 feet one time? To challenge myself to swim the length of the pool in one breath. To pretend I was a dolphin. To experience all the ways my body could move in water. To feel joy and peace. Exhileration. 

Liberation. 

In order to find that, Little Deandra eventually had to say: "Thanks, wall, for getting me. For being a place to anchor. It's time for me to go swim now."

If the wall could talk, I'm sure it would say, "It's about fucking time!"

I kid. 

Sort of. I wouldn't put the wall past it, but I imagine it would also be like, "Glad I could help." 

Oh, by the way, JAWS never did show up.