Open waters

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Are you scared of being in open water?

In a word, terrified. 

I learned how to swim at an early age. (Physically swim, that is, since many of my 'swim' posts have been a metaphorical swim.) I swam in the pool and we went to the beach open enough that I wasn't scared of the ocean. My grandparents own a lake house in Wisconsin, and I spent many summers swimming and tubing/boating on a lake where I couldn't see the bottom. As I got older and attended Girl Scout camps, I learned more advanced swimming strokes and techniques, like treading water. To pass a swim test one year, we had to tread water for three minutes without our heads going under while singing camp songs.

So to say the least, I have a very good grasp on how to keep my head above water. 

A recent, and admittedly nerdy, hobby of mine is to look up places on Google Maps using the satellite and street views and browse them as Google has defined them. I did this after returning from Las Vegas in early June to track our flight and see exactly what parts of Texas, New Mexico and Arizona we flew over. I've always been good with maps - but I'm much better when I have the visual in my head.

One day recently, I was looking up islands in the Atlantic after reading recent news stories on the Air France flight that crashed in June 2009. The article mentioned an island I'd never heard of, so I looked it up. I enjoyed zooming in on these tiny islands and discovering masses of lands my 10th grade World Geography class never touched on. As I zoomed in on the area and the screen filled with blue ocean, I got an overwhelming feeling of anxiety - like I was going to drown in that blue screen. It was only a map on a computer, but something about all that blue felt unsafe to me.

That feeling stuck with me for the rest of the day. I found it unsettling and wondered where this budding fear might have come from. Perhaps too much LOST? The more I thought about it, the more I realized how often I have dreams about flying to Europe - and how these dreams usually center around my anxiety of being out over the open waters of the Atlantic and crashing.

But I've never flown to Europe. The greatest expanse of water I've ever been over is probably a Great Lake (Michigan, most likely) or the Gulf of Mexico on a trip to Florida. I don't swim nearly as much as I used to when I was younger, and I realized last year while visiting Surf Side in Galveston I was slightly terrified of a shark attack. 

But there is no single event in my life pointing to why I should be scared of open waters. I suppose it could be a metaphorical or even just a plain, irrational fear. Once I make up my mind about something, I like to feel sure about it - and maybe there's just too much left to chance when out on the open waters.

Maybe it's a sign I need to broaden my sense of adventure.