In college, I went through a phase. We’ll call this my Californian-college-girl phase. I was a blonde, tan, busty, sorority-girl lifeguard in California. I fit a stereotype, despite the fact that only one year prior I was an acid-washed jeans, tie-dye-wearing, brunette, American transplant living in France and studying the intricacies of the newly-minted European Union along with sixteenth century French literature.
What can I say… your twenties is about finding yourself.
Anyway, the point of this story is that I was a lifeguard for many years. I’ve always loved swimming, and since lifeguarding was a summer job, when school wasn’t in session, there was a perfect synchronicity in this choice of college jobs.
There is one thing I learned in all my years of water rescue training, which has stuck with me to this day:
Drowning doesn’t look like drowning.
In the movies, a person drowning is screaming and splashing and flailing their arms.
In reality, they slip quietly underwater, unseen and unheard.
I recently saw a post online that correlated this quote – drowning doesn’t look like drowning– with our daily lives. It’s a valuable reminder to be perceptive and to help others if you can. To reach out, even if you harbor a fear of rejection, even if you think you’ll look silly, even if your proffered hand ends up being unnecessary. I’m not here to say I’m very good at this, or that it’s something I make a habit of doing. But it’s something I want to make into a habit. And one I vow to try more often.
One of my strengths, as a person, is my eternal optimism. However this is also one of my greatest weaknesses, as sometimes I ignore those things that don’t fit into my narrative. If I am anything, I am phenomenally unobservant. I glide through life, happy but thoroughly unprepared for even the slightest derailment.
And when I get derailed, it’s a no-good-awful-really-bad-thing, you know? And in those times, I’ve found that a little kindness goes a long way.
So for all the moments that I am able, I want to give kindness. I want to be joy and support and light in the darkness. I may be an ex-lifeguard and inexpert at life, but I will do whatever I can to help you stay afloat, if you need it.
Even if it doesn’t look like you’re drowning. Reach out. I’m here, treading water, waiting.
