Nothing to fear…

…but fear itself.

We all have things that have plagued us our whole lives. Some things are definitely worse than others but anything from accidentally losing sight of a parent at an outing to intentionally being left in a parking lot because of a fight with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or much, much worse. 

Well, this isn’t a read that will dive into the deep depths of the Indigenous psyche, unfortunately, but it will wade in the shorelines of childhood trauma. My childhood trauma.

I was kind of an odd girl, I think. I was wafting between living my best 7-year-old life on my traditional territory and living by best 7-year-old life in the big city of 30,000, the big city of Timmins. I loved driving the skidoo and I loved McDonalds (still love both by the way), I was trekking the 5 hour train ride a few times a year and riding my banana seat bike on those paved roads. But when I was home, nothing too much existed outside of the quarter-mile bubble of ‘The Hill’.  Every so often my Nanny and I would get on the bus to The (old) Victory Theatre to watch that week’s feature. But my favorite time on the bus was when we were going to the Carnival, which was always held in ‘Town’.  

Life was simple, confusing at times, but very dimensional. 

While things were rolling pretty slow for me on ‘The Hill’ I was getting pretty excited about a new adventure that I was about to embark on.  I can’t recall how old I was exactly, maybe 7 or 8 years old and at school, we (excitedly) had to take… swimming lessons.  And swimming lessons were the thing. 

It was a pretty big deal, for a 7-ish/8-ish kid.  For starters, we had to get on the bus every week and drive 10 km to the pool in ‘Town’, and as like most kids (not all), I loved being in the water.  Couldn’t swim if my life depended on it, but it was still fun. 

Now, parts of my story are somewhat blurry. Like, I don’t remember changing into my suit, or what my suit color was, but I do have a vivid memory of standing at the side of the pool in a line, my peers beside me, instructor in the water… instructor in the water.

Before I continue on with my story, allow me to pause and interject this particular: I need to be crystal clear about one thing- you will need to remove from your mind the ways in which the world works in mainstream society, what we have been burdened with un-learning or re-learning.  The way in which things have to go.

Now having said that, I will continue.

The first thing I remember the swim instructor doing was having everyone jump in the water.  I recall that I was standing at the edge of the pool, anxious about having to jump in the water. I had held up the line slightly with my non-cooperation.  He, the swim instructor, was standing hip deep in the pool encouraging me to jump.  I clearly remember him saying, “if you jump I will catch you.”  I made up my mind to jump, despite all my good senses telling me not to.

So I did it.  I jumped. 

And what happened….

The jackass didn’t catch me.  

I went under the water, with my arms and legs paddling as fast as I could to get back to the surface. He grabbed me and pulled me up until my head came out of the water.  Suffice to say, I was not interested in swimming lessons after that. I had been betrayed by the empty words of a man-child wannabe lifeguard. I was not happy.

After I got home that day, I never said a word to my Nanny and I suddenly developed stomach pains every time swimming lessons day came.  After a while my Nanny noticed a pattern I suppose, although I never did find out how she knew to ask me.

One day she asked me what was going on, why was I always sick that certain day of the week,  and it all came tumbling out like bad foam in a cushion, “It’s swimming lessons today and I don’t want to go, the guy who was giving us our lessons said he would catch me and he never catched me, he let me go under.”  I blubbered out, I was in tears.

Right away, my Nanny was on the phone with the Principal.  I don’t recall the conversation she had with him, although I know my Nanny so it probably wasn’t a happy one-for him.  The next thing I knew I did not have to participate in swimming lessons, although I still had to go to the pool with the class, but I got to sit upstairs and watch my peers down in the pool…and this was perfectly fine with me. 

I don’t have any regrets, as swimming wasn’t going to be a lifelong dream of mine, but as to whether or not I am still a little miffed at that smug looking wannabe lifeguard for lying to me– it is the mystery of the century.