How I Feel: A Really Long Analogy

[SomebodyElse]

The swimming pool is huge. And deep. Like an Olympic diving pool. But bigger. And deeper. I, of course, don't know how to swim. I can "swim" a.k.a. paddle about, but I can't really do anything major or long term in the water.

I'm in the dead center of the pool. I have some sort of buoyancy, since I clearly haven't died yet. But I'm struggling. I know panicking will only make it worse. I need to focus and keep fighting to the surface. Whatever it takes, I need keep my head above water. Every now and then I'm able to catch my foot on to something... For a moment I think I'm saved, but it is short lived and whatever toehold I've found dissolves and I slip below the surface. My mouth fills with water and that horrible underwater noise fills my ears. I flail and manage to reach the surface gasping for breath. For that time when I had my respite, my heart rate slowed and I was able to take a few nice, deep breaths. But now I'm panting and the air is  going so shallow into my lungs that my chest burns.

I'm not alone in the pool. Other men and women are swimming laps around me. They dive in, swim past me gracefully, and climb out refreshed. Occasionally, one of these other people fumbles their stroke and they momentarily appear that they will be joining me in the depths, but they quickly recover and continue on their easy glide across the pool. They acknowledge one another at times. They even help eachother at times with a hand up out of the pool or an encouraging word. But no one seems to notice the poor blond woman in the ill-fitting suit practically drowning in the center of the pool. This adds to my panic. If I could only swim like them I could get my sorry ass out of this cold, godforsaken pool. But no.

Some shapeless figure is standing by the side with a fairly thick hose. Like some sort of cartoonishly large fire hose that's bloated from the insane pressure level flowing through it. The water pours right into the pool and makes it continue to grow deeper and murkier. It's not even clean water. I scream, "Stop! That's plenty! You're making it worse!" But the figure just laughs and continues filling the already full pool. Doesn't he or she get it? The pool is going to overflow and the filter will clog. Drowning in clean water is bad enough. I don't want to swallow or fill my lungs with that filth!

Seated around the edge of the pool are my husband and children. The children are shouting words of... Well, encouragement isn't really the word. 

"C'mon, Mom! Get out of the pool. I need my gym uniform and 17 magazine orders for the PTO! Right now!" "Mom, just do what those other people are doing! It's easy! How soon until you are going to have dinner ready?"

My husband is facing sideways - away from me. When I try to signal him that I'm in trouble, he doesn't see or hear me. He's focused on the computer in front of him. He mumbles distractedly the same thing over and over: "Great job, honey! I knew you could do it. Do you need anything? No? OK! Great job, honey! I knew you could do it. Do you need anything? No? OK! Great job, honey! I knew you could do it. Do you need anything? No? OK!" Occasionally he tosses a couple of small red pills at me. Strangely, they do not float, nor do they help me float. They slip away into the murky depths and now the water feels even... ickier. It makes me a little numb. The struggle gets worse.

My parents are sitting on lounge chairs far, far from the edge. They don't want to risk getting water on them. They complain about the humidity in the pool area, and clearly would rather be anywhere else in the world. Every now and then, they tell me how proud of me they are. But when I turn towards them, I see that they are truly disappointed. They shake their heads in frustration with me. It's a subtle movement, but if anyone paid attention they'd see it for sure. I ask for a life raft. They send suggestions for complex strokes I will never master since the dog paddle is even too difficult right now. My mom points out that if I had only practiced like she told me to, I wouldn't be in this mess.

My sister perches in the lifeguard chair, reading a magazine and talking on her phone. I make attempts to get her attention but they are ignored. She calls out in a bored voice "Good job. Go you!" but never looks up from what she's doing to actually notice my situation and throw me a life preserver. She even makes the odd dive into the pool, to a chorus of resounding cheers and everyone rushes over to carry her back to her post, getting her a fresh towel, and a fruity drink. My parents beam.

My dogs even sit on the edge of the pool. My lab sighs and lays down facing me, staring right into my eyes. She only wants me to be happy and doesn't understand why I'm in the pool and is powerless to help. My little fluffball of a puppy dances nervously. Her front paws go up and down anxiously. She has to get to me. I'm MOMMA! I provide. I let her outside. Her life is over without me, but the water is scary and she's just too little. 

Out of frustration, I yell at the dogs to stop looking at me. Their devotion and love doesn't make me feel stronger. It just reminds me how important it is to get out of the pool and I don't want to disappoint them. But they don't hold grudges or talk about me behind my back, so they become easy targets for my fear-induced anger. And now a weight appears around my neck. I look at the tag. It reads "GUILT". Shit.

On the good side, someone has plugged my mp3 player in. The music playing in the pool area is great! When I request the Glee soundtrack, it comes on. Its a nice distraction from my predicament when the song doesn't hit too close to home.

There are a few distractions around the pool. Things to space out on and momentarily forget my problems. The problem is, the more attention I pay to those happy little distractions, the less skilled I become at swimming. See paragraph one. That is not good. It also seems to be adding links to that guilt jewelry, which I just can't afford since it's already so heavy.

At least once a day I pass out and my natural buoyancy keeps me afloat until I wake up. Even if I feel rested and restored when I revive, it's short lived as I lose my innate ability to float and drop deep below the surface where the water is extra cold. I hear a sigh from my mom about the time wasted while I was unconscious and how it could have been better spent working towards my ultimate goal: dry land.

I don't even remember getting in the water. I put on the poorly fitting suit with great intentions of lounging in the hot tub, not drowning in the dive pool. I don't think I fell in. Maybe I was pushed? Maybe I slipped on a dog's and/or child's toy? Maybe the edges of the pool were slippery from lack of cleaning and the mildew finally did me in.

Hours pass. Days. There are no windows and the one clock's hands seem to move randomly, sometimes creeping along, other times spinning wildly. I don't know what day or time it is. I'm currently 40. Assuming nothing changes, can I continue to keep myself from completely drowning for the next 40 years? Will hypothermia or fatigue take me sooner? Would that be so bad, since I'm so tired? The fear of letting everyone down keeps me struggling against hope, but how much energy is left  in my already aching muscles and my burning lungs and heart.

Please, someone throw me a life jacket or life preserver. Even a some of those air pillow shipping box things or a ziploc bag blown up would be appreciated at this point. I just don't want to drown. Yeah, me. The one squashed into my suit flailing about in the deep end.