The Day I Almost Drowned
- Simply Jelly Jam
- 7 hours ago
- 4 min read
In honor of National Life Writing month (November).
In honor of November as National Life Writing month, I wanted to share a near death experience from my childhood. I feel the need to get this off my chest as a self-therapeutic activity.
In case it's helpful, below are the main points covered in this post:
Babysitter's Pool Party
When I was six years old, my Mom left me with a babysitter every weekend. Only one was kind to me. The others seemed bothered to have me around because Mom and I would arrive at their homes with little or no prior knowledge.
In the case of this story, Mom wanted to go bar hopping with a friend, and the 'kind' babysitter was unavailable for a last-minute babysitting gig.
I vaguely recall Mom arguing with another adult before returning to remind me to be on my best behavior. Mom left, and the adult found me a swimsuit to join their pool party. At the time.
Another adult gave me arm floaties and a float ring because I could not swim. Because I had never been to a pool before, I was excited to finally get in one!
Someone explained that I needed to stay at the shallow end of the pool. Then I was left alone. Everyone else (primarily adults) did their own thing while I was left to float without supervision.
A Terrifying Experience
I did not mind floating without anyone to talk to or anything else to do. It was a new experience I enjoyed. Things were good until my arms started to slip out of the floaties.
I cried for help, but I did not think anyone could hear me over the music and chatter. The arm floaties eventually slid off my arms (I was a very tiny and thin child) and away from me. I held onto the float ring tightly.
My cries again went unheard when I started to slip through the float ring. I was underwater before I knew it.
Much of my memory is foggy, especially decades after the event. I remembered feeling panicked and terrified. I repeatedly had nightmares about the whole experience for years. I remembered thinking, even at six years old, that I was going to die.
I do not know how long I was underwater. I somehow reached the ledge at the deep end of the pool and pulled my head above water. I was not strong enough to pull myself out of the pool. Eventually, someone heard my cries and pulled me out.
I remembered throwing up a lot of water. I remembered being yelled at by several adults for not staying in the shallow end. I remembered sobbing uncontrollably while I explained that I did not know how I got to the deep end and that nobody heard it every time I screamed for help.
The lady Mom argued with begged me not to tell Mom what happened. She said I was alright, no harm done, and there was no reason for me to ever mention it. It was best to forget and move on.
I was given ice cream but fell asleep until Mom returned to take me home.
Revisiting This Memory Decades Later
Decades later and I am just now willing to revisit that terrifying experience. The whole ordeal traumatized me, but I avoided reflecting on the memory because of what happened after Mom returned for me.
When we got home, I decided to tell Mom what happened instead of staying quiet as the lady urged me to do. I wanted Mom to know the truth. I hoped Mom would console me.
Instead, Mom yelled at me and lectured me about lying. She told me I was acting selfish and lying for attention.
I tried to convince her that I was telling her the whole truth, but she was not hearing it. She yelled that there was no way adults she trusted would never be so careless with a child. I was punished for my lies and attention-seeking behavior.
For days, Mom yelled at me for crying and telling lies. I could not figure out how to get Mom to believe me. She never even called the lady to confirm that I was lying.
I learned a horrible lesson that day. I learned not to tell Mom about anything bad because she would never believe me.
I learned not to talk about anything that happened to me because she would believe I was being selfish and seeking undeserved attention.
Decades later, I realized that I needed to get this off my chest. While therapy is helpful, writing about my experience to 'let it go' feels better.
Thank you for letting me share my story.
What's Next?
If there is a childhood memory you want to 'get off your chest,' consider writing about it. It may end up being a therapeutic activity that could help you finally put that part of your past behind!
Comment below to share a story from your childhood!
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Thanks, and have a great day!
~Simply Jelly Jam