Swimming — as a Metaphor for my Life
As a child, I was terrified of the water.
When I was little — maybe eight years of age, my mother decided to send me to swim in the nearby pool with a neighbour’s daughter. Please note, she did not ask me, she told me that this is what I would be doing one Sunday morning.
The person who took me to the pool was herself a young girl, about four or five years older than me. She apparently went swimming every Sunday, and I suppose she obediently let me tag along! The only thing we did together was arrive at the pool, go into the changing room, and walk to the pool steps.
I still remember the feeling of dread and fear, as I clung to the side of the pool. Dread, since I was always a fat little child, and my mother never bothered about what I wore or how I dressed. So, I already felt like a piece of lard, terribly ungainly and ugly, as I changed into an ill-fitting swimsuit and then walked in shame to the edge of the pool. Once I got into the water, I was overcome with fear.
There I stood, as the water lapped on me feeling like it was going to attack me if I let go of the wall I was clinging on to. My neighbour swam away in glee and I just stood there burning with humiliation, but not willing to cry, as it would be a dead giveaway, not leaving the edge; perhaps half an hour later I left the pool, changed and went back home, feeling really lousy and small. In my family, we did not speak about our emotions or how we felt, and my mother probably did not even ask me about the swim. I cannot remember what I did after going home that morning, but I know that I did not even think about swimming for a long long time.
Fast forward — I made a few feeble attempts to venture into the water again, learning how to balance myself at the shallow end of the pool, looking brave, and of course wearing a better swimsuit, as I started feeling less conscious about how I looked. As I grew up, I lost a little weight and exercised a little more and so felt a little better about the garments adorning my body!
Two children later, I still did not know how to swim. But I spent many days in the pool with them, always in the shallow section. When they were very young, they clung to me, despite their father beckoning them to the deeper end of the pool! “No, we are with mama”, they would squeal, and I let them be, not letting on, that I was probably more scared than either of them. The only good thing I did for them was I made sure both my children learned how to swim properly without fear, even if I couldn’t and so life went on….
Until one day…. I met with some moms from my son’s class, and two of them shared how they had learned to swim by taking lessons with a well-known swim coach in Mumbai called Mrs. B. The charges for this feat were 1000 Rs. an hour — 20 years ago, this was a handsome sum of money. “Oh”, said one of the moms — “just do it. You will learn how to swim really quick, for you will watch your money floating away in the water.”
My husband gave me some very practical advice — “imagine you are buying a piece of jewellery. It is an investment.”
And so, I made contact with Mrs. B, and she agreed to come and teach me how to swim at the private club, close to my home, at 5.45 AM in the morning. Since she could only be signed in as a guest 4 times a month, we decided to do this from January 26th — 30th and then February 1st — 4th. Eight turns to learn. And I had a self-determined goal.
Let me pause here and reflect –I had many years of thwarted attempts to learn swimming — my friend, my sister, my husband had all tried to teach me. My sister had even enrolled me in a swimming class! I had enrolled myself while at University in Toronto — BUT none of these attempts worked. WHY? Because I was not mentally ready. Because the motivation to learn was external not internal. Because I did not feel the need to want to do this.
What changed?
I woke up one day, perhaps after yet another beach holiday with my family, clinging to the edge of the pool, with a thought that I do not want to die without knowing how to swim. I, decided, I want to learn, and I reached out to Mrs. B. Plus, I had living examples of the two moms who had also accomplished learning how to swim. At this point in my personal life, I had developed more confidence in myself. Professionally I was working as a high school teacher in a school, the kids loved me, I had come into my element, somewhat, and I no longer felt so terrible in a swimsuit. I thought, “If mom 1 and mom 2 could learn to swim, well, so can I!”
The most important thing I needed to plan around, was the school schedule, and I chose a time that the girls whom I taught were away on a school trip! The pressure on me was that I had only these few days to learn. Imagine the embarrassment if I were flailing at the edge of the pool, and a little voice leaned over to say, “Hi Miss!” I would simply want to drown in embarrassment. So, I thought that this would be the best time with all of them far away, and I was going to learn how to swim. Finally!
As it happens, Mumbai, which is a hot muggy place at the best of times experienced a “cold wave” during the days I decided to embark on this initiative. So, during the dark cold mornings, Mrs. B and I met at the poolside of the Cricket Club of India, and I, who can hardly bear cold weather, gingerly let myself into the icy cold water. “You will swim better when the water is cold’” said Mrs. B, “you will move better!” These words convinced me to try, and even today, I can swim in cold water with ease. And so started my first real swimming class, which lasted an hour.
Mrs. B was not only calm, patient, gentle and kind, but also strict about form and extremely logical. She deconstructed the strokes for me, and made me practice them piecemeal, and then put them together, one by one, not allowing me to fuss or give up. She helped me build my stamina by having me swim across the breadth of the shallow end of the pool, four times without a pause. What was the intention behind this? It not only gave me confidence, but also enabled me to develop endurance. Of course, the crucial point here is, I did not know the real reason why I was doing this! It comes later.
All this appealed to me — for as a teacher, I too simplify the concepts in my chemistry class, break them down, then build one on top of the other, scaffold the skills, and get the students used to doing a certain volume of work before they take on a summative exam. Yes, Mrs. B worked well for me, and although I was cold during those dark mornings, I was happy to follow instructions and saw myself making slow progress one stroke at a time. And, of course, there were no students around, in fact very few people around, so it did not matter how I looked to the external world, for there was no-one there to see me anyway!
After four turns, Mrs. B announced, we will be going to the deep now!
Every single molecule of my body curled up in fear. “I can’t,” I said.
Mrs. B had by then assessed my psychology, and understood what may work for me. Please note, she did not give me this wonderful piece of news the previous day. Perhaps if she had, I may not have turned up for the morning class. Yes, that’s me — I would rather run away from a situation than cling to the edge of the pool, as I had done as a child, for now in life I was no longer clinging, I was forging ahead as a well-loved teacher doing well for myself professionally, and somewhat well personally. No more setbacks!
“I can’t, Mrs. B, how am I going to go into the deep. I am too scared.”
“My dear, to swim, you only need the surface of the water. It does not matter what lies underneath. Whether it is three feet or ten feet, you only need the surface. Come on, let’s go. I will swim alongside you.”
How did this help me in whatever I do in life? Here is a challenge, here I would be doing something different, but I now recognise that the challenge is no more or less than other things that I do comfortably and perhaps even well. And, most importantly, the person who is giving me the challenge will be there to watch me do it, on the side, if I need them, but has the confidence that I can do this on my own. So different from my mother — who sent me off to do something, she never could do! Yes, my mother did not know how to swim! Less about my mother now, and more about me…..
So, I made it from the shallow end of the pool to the deep end, with Mrs. B by my side, and my little daughter who saw me swim from one end to the other exclaimed, “Mom, Mrs. B is a miracle worker.”
By early February, I learned how to swim laps!
In March, we had four more sessions to learn how to breathe.
And I was swimming like a pro. Slow breast stroke, gliding in the water, but making it from one end of the pool to the other. Like my life in general — when I want to do something, I invest in what I want to do, take it one slow step or stroke at a time. I learn gently, kindly, with the right guidance, and gain more when the teacher gives me a logical explanation. The reason then helps submerge the emotion, mostly a sense of inadequacy and fear, and is then gradually replaced by a sense of achievement to want to do more!
Oh yeah, I did it, I learned how to swim, and I did it before the girls from school came back from the trip! So now, if any of them peered over the edge of the pool, it did not matter, since I was confident and knew how to swim.
I swim every day — or almost every day, and it is one of the most liberating experiences of my life.
And this is me — my own decision to want to do something, moving beyond my mother, and finding the right person to help me step by step, guiding me yet challenging me. I continue to have many fears, but I have learned over time and with practice, that the fear is in the mind not in the body. Once my mind decides that this is the way forward for me, every cell in my body then co-operates and plays in the orchestra.
I simply love swimming. I love the water, I love the feeling of floating, it no longer is the force which attacked me at age eight, it is a friend and supports me when I need it the most.
My mother never saw me swim. The day after she passed away, I went into the pool, and said, “hey, mom — I did it. Can you see me now?”
Mom had a life unfulfilled. She did not have the opportunity to do so many things she may have wanted to do. I will never know — was she also fearful of the water? Is that why she sent me off that morning? On reflection and hindsight, I am grateful to mom for letting me do so many things she was never able to do. She did not have the freedom or support in her own life, and so did not know how to give it to me. She too was plump, and perhaps faced similar emotions as me. Maybe they never resolved and she did not know how to help me so the story replayed itself again for me.
Yes, she wanted me to swim — she could not. I swam — literally and metaphorically. I swam through life and my own achievements!
When I became Principal of a school, someone asked me what training I had received to prepare me for the position. “Well,”, I said, “I stood at the edge of the pool, and realised I had to get across, so I could either swim or drown! I jumped off and swam.”
And that is where I am in life — I have learned to swim, I have learned to take each challenge as it comes, strengthen the mind, take small steps at a time, go bit by bit, being present at each moment and knowing fully well that someone will be there by my side. I just need to find that someone.
Thank you, Mrs. B for the gift of the physical exercise of swimming, for taking me into the deep end with planning and due consideration and for the quiet understanding of what makes me uniquely me! I will meet so many more Mrs. Bs in my life — for which I am both hopeful and grateful!
