Swimming

I learned how to tread water years ago. Though a total surprise, it was necessary that I learn. I knew of the existence of the sea, but it was abstract and a far distant concern while I was securely on the shore. My plunge into the sea was sudden and vicious, and I was lost in waves, not knowing where the surface was or how to reach it. I'm not even sure I wanted to fight; I didn't think I could or even know that I had to. Eventually the angry waters receded, and I could touch ground again, gasp for air, and remember how to breathe. I never truly made it to the shore again; occasionally the waves would lap over my head, and I would begin to tread water as best I could. Over the years, certain events were undertows that drug me out, deeper and deeper each time. I learned to tread water better, because it was necessary- I was quite literally fighting for my life.

Eventually a storm of unexpected strength appeared and the undertow swept me away, pulling me under, far, so far from shore. For a time, I fought to stay above, but I grew tired, and weary, and simply let go. I sank below the surface without struggle. I didn't necessarily want to and wasn't actively trying to drown; nevertheless, I didn't care if I did. I lacked the will, the strength, or even the courage to swim, and so, I sank. Life vests were thrown to me, and I accepted them reluctantly. I eventually stopped sinking and even broke the surface, returning my life vests out of pride.

For the next two years, I came closer to the shore, but was still to deep to stand. So I treaded water again. Waves would come and wash over my head, and I learned to tread more and better. At the end of those two years, another massive storm came, similar in magnitude to the one before it. To my complete and utter surprise, I found myself able to keep my head above water by my own strength. The storm swelled and thrashed me through the sea, like an angry child at a naughty doll, and yet I was firm, my head stayed above, and I continued to breathe. I never expected that I would be able to tread the back-breaking waves; my surprise in this was then completely overwhelmed by my shock at my ability to swim for the shore. Only a short time before, I was drowning; now, I was able to swim out of the undertow that was railing against me, siren calling me to a release. When I was drowning, my loss of will and courage was brought on by my knowledge of how weak I was; I knew I couldn't fight strong enough to stay afloat, and I didn't. But somehow in the last two years of treading, I grew stronger than I ever imagined I could be. I grew strong and courageous enough not just to breathe, but swim to shore and to freedom.

Originally I thought this would be a story on treading water. Halfway through, I realized I wasn't giving myself enough credit. I'm no longer simply trying to breathe; I'm taking steps, or strokes rather, to be whole, stronger, better. I am the lion who found the courage that was there all along, and the view is much better from the shore.