Treading Water Through Life

To the Editor:
One summer, when I was a kid, my mom sent me to a two-week swim class. There were so many kids that had signed up and I was hoping to make a ton of new friends.
The first couple of days they taught us the safety basics and showed us how to move our arms and legs. Eventually, came the time they were going to teach us how to dive off the diving board.
It seemed so terrifying. I watched as some of the braver kids just went up there and did it. Not perfect, but at least they tried, and they always came up smiling, proud of their accomplishment.
When it was my turn, I told the teacher I couldn’t do it, that I was too scared, so she let me stay in the deep end and tread water and watch the other kids until I felt comfortable.
For two weeks, I watched the other kids. For two weeks, I trod water while the other kids did these great things. They’d dive, do cannonballs, handstands, splash, laugh… live, and there I was, treading water.
Occasionally, my arms and legs would give out and I would sink to the bottom, but as soon as my feet hit the floor I’d push off and propel myself upwards out of the water with a loud splash.
Everyone would look at me and smile and think I did some amazing trick. They didn’t realize it wasn’t some hidden talent; it was just my basic will to survive that kicked in at the very end.
Afterward, the teacher would always smile and say, “Are you ready now? Are you ready to dive in?” I’d shake my head and say, “No, not yet.”
I’d keep treading. Sometimes, I would think about asking the teacher if I could get out, tell her that I needed a break, my body was so tired, but I could never do it. I was too embarrassed.
I mean, all I was doing was treading water, while everyone else around me was doing these amazing things, so much energy and laughter.
The last day of class was the longest. I immediately got into the pool and started doing what I had been for two weeks. I was comfortable now.
I felt my arms and legs were stronger, and that day I realized was my last chance to dive, to overcome my fears, so I waited for the teacher to ask me, like she did every day.
She never did. For hours, I just tried to keep my head above the water, occasionally slipping beneath the surface, alone, sinking further into myself.
That’s how I feel today. That’s how I feel every day, like I never left that swim class.
I’m just treading water and watching others dive, praying that the next time I go under I have the strength and the will to propel myself upwards.