Swimming + Anxiety
I can’t breathe. That was all I could think after I surfaced from my dive on the first lap of the 200 Individual Medley, which was, of course, the dreaded butterfly. I was dizzy not just from oxygen deprivation but from paralyzing anxiety. I was sure I had to stop, to give up, but in the back of my mind, I was so afraid that if I quit I would never be able to complete it. Either way, I was overwhelmed with terror. Everyone is watching me look like a complete fool. But one fear overrode the other, and I finished the race, my head pounding.
As a kid, I knew I could float on my back, and I’d even learned some freestyle technique from a babysitter. But that was it for my swimming experience before sophomore year, when I tried out for my school team on a whim. At tryouts, I learned I was light-years behind my friends who’d grown up doing flip turns and streamlines. I found myself being lapped over and over again, my muscles screaming and my throat sore from inhaling water. Still, I fell madly in love with the feeling of the water rushing under my hips. So when my name wasn’t on the roster at the end of the week, I was devastated.
By then, though, I was hooked, so I joined a swim club. But the birth of my romance with swimming coincided almost exactly with getting diagnosed with OCD and Social Anxiety Disorder. In the locker room, I hid my car keys, praying my middle school-aged teammates wouldn’t figure out I was old enough to drive. At meets, I befriended the sixth graders who crushed me in every race. That’s embarrassing for anyone, but for me, it was the pinnacle of social anxiety. Even this little girl is going to judge me, I would think. But watching the fastest swimmers, I fell into an even more intense love with swimming. I made it my highest goal to be like them, not only because my competitive nature urged me to win, but because I longed for my stroke to be an expression of beauty.
So against all odds, I got down to business. I came to every practice and decorated my whiteboard with a plan for how I was going to qualify for Sectionals, the club meet that distinguishes the goods from the greats. When my coach made fun of me for having “noodle arms,¨ I bought a pull-up bar and made it a part of my routine to attempt 10 pull-ups every night. And at the same time, I began to conquer other challenges too. Through Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, I worked to break the little rules that had boxed me in all my life–I learned to eat leftovers and fold my clothes imperfectly. Most of all, I faced my anxiety head on. For the first time, my determination to succeed outweighed my fears of embarrassment and failure. I continued chipping away at my goals until I surpassed my teammates and moved up to a faster training group with kids my own age. And junior year, I finally made the high school swim team.
Sometimes I wonder whether my goals will prove possible, but I’ve held onto the belief that I can do anything with the right amount of discipline and dedication. I firmly believe that these moments of self-doubt would be a terrible reason not to give it my all. And thanks to my training these past two years, I’ve already accomplished more than I dreamed could ever be possible. I adore my same-aged teammates and my anxiety no longer controls my life. The only thing that could make it better? When I finally make Sectionals.