The Day I Lost Trust in the Water

I was seven years old when my father threw me into the deep end of a swimming pool.

I couldn't swim.

One moment, I was standing at the edge of the public swimming pool in Toa Payoh, excited about my first swimming lesson. The next, I was underwater, struggling to breathe.

Water rushed into my mouth. I swallowed it, spluttered and desperately tried to keep myself afloat. I couldn't tell which way was up.

There was only one thought in my mind.

I was going to drown.

My father eventually pulled me out.

I stood there shaking, frightened and trying to catch my breath.

He looked at me and explained, "I was just trying to teach you the same way as I did your sisters."

My father was a strict man. Perhaps he believed that throwing a child into deep water was the quickest way to teach her to swim. It had apparently worked with my older sisters.

But I was different.

I had arrived at the pool that morning trusting my father to teach me something new. Instead, I had experienced the most terrifying moments of my young life.

I was angry with him. I felt betrayed.

Without wanting to hear any more explanations, I stormed towards the changing room and refused to continue the lesson.

That was the end of my first attempt to learn swimming.

For the next thirty years, I stayed away from swimming pools.

The memory followed me into adulthood. Even though I knew that swimming was a useful skill, the thought of being in water frightened me.

Then I became a mother.

I wanted to enjoy the water with my children instead of always watching them from the side. I realised that if I wanted things to change, I would have to face the fear I had carried since childhood.

So, after thirty years, I decided to learn swimming again.

My instructor, Mr Tan, was patient and understanding. He allowed me to learn at my own pace.

The hardest part was putting my head into the water.

It sounds like such a small thing. For someone who had once believed she was drowning, it was a frightening step.

Mr Tan never rushed me. Through repeated practice and his patient guidance, I gradually managed to do what I had feared for so long.

Little by little, I began to feel safer in the water.

Today, I still wouldn't call myself a confident swimmer. I can manage a few strokes of dog paddle, but I am much happier in the shallow end, where my feet can touch the bottom.

The fear has faded, although it has never completely disappeared.

Looking back, I believe my father made a serious mistake that day. He probably thought he was teaching me courage, but his method left me afraid of water for three decades.

I have since learnt that people gain confidence when they feel safe enough to try, make mistakes and try again.

Mr Tan understood something my father had overlooked. Patience can help a frightened person achieve what force cannot.

Sometimes, when I see young children having their first swimming lessons, I think about the little girl I once was.

I can still picture her standing at the edge of the pool in Toa Payoh, excited about learning to swim, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

I wish someone had simply held her hand before asking her to let go.

Told by Adeline Lee.

Written by Sam Choo

Story Tags: Childhood Memories, Fear, Trust

Adeline Lee is the author of The Little Things That Made Me, a collection of personal stories about the experiences and people that shaped her life.

Website: https://gratitude-therapy.com