I’ve had a ton of stuff happen in the last few years. I noticed I didn’t mention that the same year I did floatation therapy, I started a master swim class at my local YMCA.
Now, I had learned how to swim as a child. And somehow I found a small certificate that said I had passed a whale class – while I was still in my mom’s womb. One “minor” trauma that moderately intersects with the greater trauma I mentioned before, was my dad and half-brother sneaking up and pulling me under the water. All this at the same time the Jaws paperback was prominently displayed in grocery store checkout lines. Any interest in swimming was mostly gone.
But in college, we had a pretty nifty new gymnasium which included a natatorium (fancy word for pool). I took several 1 hour electives like racquetball and ham radio communications. I also took a swim class.
The school didn’t like to heat the pool, and even though it was in Texas, it was pretty chilly. But that didn’t bother me. What slightly disturbed me were the times we had to swim the length of the pool (most of the time we swam the width near the shallow end).
I felt an uneasy “tingling” as I crossed the line to the deep end. Now, when my dad and brother would pull me under, it was always in water I could stand in. I think I associated the deep with Jaws. But I think my subconscious related the risk the shark from Jaws carried and lumped it in with the trauma my grandparents had instilled in me. The feeling was the same. At any rate, I managed to pass the class, but wouldn’t swim again for over 30 years.
I was at a huge low place in my trauma. I had been a teacher at my workplace fitness center. But moving to a more distant building, it was hard to maintain the schedule. And my PTSD was still not fully addressed. Is it ever? Improv sustained me on basic life support. I gained weight. My previous yoga practice was falling away. I got an email from our fitness center that the nearby YMCA had a master swim class with openings. This was about a month after my first float and I think my subconscious said water was good and I signed up for it.
My first day, I was worried the instructor would make me go to a remedial class. I swam like my life was on the line — but it was too hard for my aerobic capacity at the time. Coach later told me she asked the life guard to keep an extra eye on me. I was panic swimming.
After using a pull buoy (which is meant to put the focus on the upper body and still the legs), I realized I had to slow my legs — but mostly I realized how much I loved swimming when pulling.
Between floating and swimming and other workouts, I was sometimes taking 4-5 showers a day. But some of those were rinsing only showers.
This is one of 4 things that intersected in one year that helped lift me up and diminish the effects PTSD has on me. I already mentioned the floatation therapy and I’ll add more regular posts on what else happened that year.
Namaste & Guacamole
Laughter: the Accidental Therapist 