Sometimes it feels like I'm still there

I was a kid, swimming around in the pool, going down the slides, climbing back up the slides, sitting in the hot tub, doing whatever I wanted to do. Our family had gotten together with a lot of other family members at some hotel in some town to have some drinks, eat some pizza, and swim in some water. It may have been a wedding, a reunion, or some other family event. I can't remember. I don't want to.

One minute, I was happily swimming along in the pool, not a care in the world. The next, I realized that I had entered an area of water that was much too deep for my height. I struggled to touch the bottom, which failed, which set me a little underwater. This caused me to panic... which is never good in a troubled water situation.

I flailed to get above water, but to no avail. I wasn't a reptile. I wasn't born with natural instincts for swimming brought upon by millions of years of evolution and natural selection. I was a human. And humans must be taught how to swim. Humans must be taught how to react during any particular kind of situation, especially those of the dangerous, panicky nature.

Instead of swimming in a horizontal direction to shallow water, as I should have done, I was focusing all my efforts on swimming up in a vertical direction, as in this state of basic self-survival, my nervous system's only concern was preventing itself from dying. Looking more than a second into the future was not an option, because there isn't enough brain power to spare.

Besides the general incident itself, I remember two distinct images in my head. One was getting my head above water and looking to my left. Less than ten feet away was my cousin swimming on a water float, appearing to be relaxing without a care in the world. Completely oblivious to the fact that I was a minute away from death.

Then, after fighting off gravity and death some more, I managed to get my head out of the water again, and looked to my right. I saw all of my relatives standing over by some tables, drinking beer, laughing, gossiping, having a good time... again, completely unaware of my drowning.

Did they not care? Were they assuming that a child cannot drown? What struck me is that not a single person was watching. Not even glancing over every once in a while. Nothing. Nobody was concerned. Simple math should warrant it: The pool had a section that was four feet and six inches. I was not that tall. Adam has the capability to drown.

I don't remember how, but somehow I got out of my situation by myself. I walked over to where all my family members and relatives were socializing, and even when I was standing about five feet away from the group, nobody looked over at me. The feeling like I didn't exist combined with the feeling of having almost just drowned without anyone caring... a lot of kids would just cry.

I learned a lesson. One of the most important lessons you could ever learn in your life. Jane's mother in "American Beauty" said one intelligent thing during the entire movie: "You cannot rely on anyone in the world but yourself." Everyone in the world will let you down.

I learned to rely on myself. I have no role models in life, I have no guardians, I have nobody watching over me, and I wouldn't want it any other way. When people lovingly check up on me to see how I'm doing, I get agitated, as if they are pulling me out of my comfort zone and inconveniencing me in some way. My comfort zone exists inside me and nowhere else.

I don't want any help in life, and times like these are why. I am my own person, and I am responsible for myself. Nobody helped me during my greatest time of need, so allowing anyone to help me now just seems like a slippery slope on its way to becoming dependent on fallible people.

What was most likely 30 seconds seemed like a lifetime while it was happening. Even looking back on it, it feels like I was drowning for hours, although I know this couldn't have been true. Sometimes it even feels like I'm still there.