I was always warned to not go out too far and to always keep an eye on the waves. I was told it could be dangerous and a wave could drag me under. I was told I wouldn't be strong enough to fight my way back to the surface before another wave came. I was told the waves would just keep coming, pinning me to the ocean floor and I would die.
It happened when I was about 7 or 8. I wasn't being careless. I was keeping an eye on the waves. I was staying near the shore but the tide was so strong it started pulling me further out. I could still reach the sand with my toes so I wasn't especially worried. I just knew I needed to swim hard enough to get myself back to safer ground. I pushed off the sand with my toes, getting ready to pull the water with my arms as hard as I could, but within moments of me pushing off the sand a wave came crashing down on me. I no longer had the balance support of the sand beneath my toes so the wave pushed my head forward but also did something I wasn't anticipating. The wave also pulled me backwards. The wave hit my head so hard it felt like I was hit from behind in an unfair pillow fight. I immediately felt the throb behind my eyes. As my head toppled forward, being dragged towards the ocean floor, my legs were being pulled out from under me. It felt like I was doing a flip but in slow motion and something else was controlling me with a wire thin string. It all happened so fast, yet so slow. My head hit the sand, my shin dragged against the rocks and debris at the bottom and my eyes burned from the salt in the water. I pushed off the bottom to reach the top but before I could break the surface another wave crested onto the top of my head, starting the process all over, only backwards this time. By the time my head broke the surface I was sure I had already died. I pushed off the ground one more time and stood up. The waves had pulled me backwards and forwards and I fought so hard I had lost all sense of direction. I was standing there gasping air and I finally opened my eyes. The waves were breaking just under my hips and I was looking out onto this massive body of water, shimmering in all it's powerful glory. I turned around and saw that no one in my family had even noticed my war with the waves. I was too embarrassed and in pain to say anything so I just went about my day acting like everything was fine. Finally, that night as my Dad was putting me to bed, he saw that my shins were scraped up. He asked what happened and I thought about retelling the whole story so he could hold me and tell me it was all okay. Before I could say anything my sister, laying down in the bed next to me, said, " She got caught under the waves." I looked at her, shocked that she knew what happened but had kept on playing like I was fine. I was shocked that she didn't say anything at all, all day. I looked back at my Dad, expecting the sympathy and reassurance I was craving but all he said was , "Be more careful." He kissed my head and said goodnight as my eyes filled with tears. I laid down and hugged my blankets close to me, feeling the soft give in my pillow and the warmth of my my body filling the bed and I fell asleep, not realizing I had learned a lesson about life that would haunt me forever.
You see, I was diagnosed manic depressive/ bipolar almost a year ago. The waves symbolized my depression. How one wave of a bad moment, a bad day, can turn into another and another for me. How I can be careful to avoid it and see it coming but when it hits I'm powerless to the onslaught of pain, disorientation, and confusion. I can fight with everything I have in me to make the waves stop pummeling me, only to lose more exhausted then when it all started. Wearing myself thinner and thinner. Making myself weaker and weaker. Until the ocean of unimaginable confusion and complication decides to release me. Trying not to give up, waiting for the moment I could stand again.
The next lesson was that, while I'm in and once I am out of this depression, I will look around to see who can help me and there will be no one. So, I'll bottle it up and pretend it didn't happen. I'll apologize and tell those closest to me that it was my fault and I'll do better. I'll be more careful. All because I am too embarrassed and feel like no one would understand anyway.
The other lesson I learned was that there are people that will notice and they won't say anything. When someone that has the power to make you feel like everything is alright and like you aren't alone, is told, they won't put much effort into helping you heal.
Pain is a serious matter. Love me like I love you. Hell love me like I am leaving this Earth tomorrow because God Damnit I might be. My waves beat me down so hard I don't see a reason to keep fighting them anymore. My world is so blind to my need for reassurance and sympathy and LOVE that I think I may just stay under the water for a bit longer. Watching the sun shine off the top, floating like a mermaid, waiting for something else to happen that will make the peace of dying not seem so relaxing anymore.
I fight for the moments when I can breathe again. I fight for the strength to make it all matter. I fight this war of the waves daily and I'm getting tired. My shins are cut and bleeding. My head is heavy and my lungs can only fill with so much water before I give in. I am fighting another day, for I know that the more I fight the stronger I will get and the less power these waves will have over me. All I ask, is that you notice and hold me in your arms until I feel safe again. Hold me in your hearts until I feel the warmth of my body against yours. And love me through my struggles.
