Paddle On!

Two weeks ago, I did something new. I went stand-up paddle boarding for the first time. For those of you who know me well, I am sure that sentence was enough to send your jaw to the floor.

First, you know how, um, accident-prone I am. The girl who fell off a one-foot tall stool and had to get her ankle x-rayed probably should not be the same girl standing on a board in the middle of a lake. Second, new experiences, while they thrill me, also completely terrify me. And third, I have body image issues. See this recipe for a disaster coming together into a big, bountiful meal? What made me say to myself, “Self, let’s do something new! In front of strangers! That may cause death by drowning! In a bathing suit! With a boy!” I mean, really. What the flock-of-seagulls was I thinking?

Well, here’s what I was thinking. I was thinking that I love the water. It makes me happy. Being in, around, or on the water is like a caress to my soul. I love the smell of water: the crispness of a lake, the warmth of an ocean, the cleanness of the rain. When I was little, my parents had to drag me out of the pool in the summer to eat, shower, and sleep. I spent hours swimming, floating, doing tumbling tricks, and dancing in the pool. Now, y’all remember from “And So I Learned About Rescue” that I was alone a lot as a kid, so many of those hours in the pool were spent with me, myself, and I but that didn’t bother me at all because: water.

Having the chance to be on the water, exerting energy, using my muscles, pushing my body while giving my brain a chance to rest just sounded GOOOOOOD. I had been longingly watching people for years on various beach and lake real estate shows on HGTV hop on boards and skim across the top of the water. When I found out that I actually knew a certified SUP teacher, Matt, (like how did I not know this already?), I saw my chance and I grabbed it.

So as for issue number one: my nearly-world-famous klutziness… I figured falling in the lake would not be as bad as some of the many (many, many) other mishaps I’ve had in life. I’ve hit the water pretty hard before (hello, Mt. Dew rock). I mean, I could still technically hurt myself, but the chances were pretty low when compared to, say, walking and chewing gum at the same time.

Issue number two: stranger danger + new activity. OK so Lake Jocassee is busy, even on a weekday. I knew there would be a high element of “unknown”: both people and circumstance. Enter Matt. I already knew Matt as a patient and kind teacher through three years of taking yoga with him. Also, he and I have become friends and he’s been exposed to my special brand of crazy. Most importantly, I knew that he would laugh with me rather than at me when I came up sputtering from the inevitable crash and splash!

So far, I am knocking out those excuses I had come up with every other time I’d thought about looking into paddling lessons.

There was just one left: body image. Honestly, I was so damn excited for the opportunity to learn how to paddle board that this one kind of escaped my radar…until the day before we were set to go. Suddenly, I realized that when one paddles, one usually wears a bathing suit.

I talked to a couple of friends, fervently wishing for them to tell me to rethink going. Much to my dismay, they are good, honest friends, who told me to shut the eff up and go to the damn lake already. I spent time staring at my bathing suit options wondering which one would make me look like J. Lo at the Superbowl. Answer: none. She works out like eight million hours a week and I, well, I do not work out like eight million hours a week. I finally just picked a one-piece that sucked in what it could and didn’t spill my boobs all over the place. After I put on the suit in the morning, I threw a tank and a loose pair of shorts over it and off to the lake I went. I was nervous and I think I talked the poor girl’s ear off while I was waiting for the guy to come and get me to take me and my rented board to the water. I kept asking her if I should wear my shorts in the water. She was so patient with me and convinced me it was OK to leave my shorts in the car, so I’d have something dry to put on when I came back. I ran them back to the car and then it was time to go so I didn’t have more time to freak out.

And then….

And then, nothing tragic happened. I got on the board. It didn’t sink. No one asked me what a fat girl like me was doing trying to paddle board. Matt got on his board in the water after me and then he taught me how to maneuver around. I didn’t do a perfect job. I actually bumped into Matt’s board a couple of times (oops) and I was sloooooowwww as molasses and he had to keep pausing for me to catch up. Oh! And I didn’t even attempt to stand up; I did the whole trip on my knees or sitting. I didn’t make an ass of myself. Matt was patient and kind. There were no wardrobe malfunctions. What DID happen is that I was happy. I was loving the water: being in, on, and around it. I was using muscles. I pushed my body a little and relaxed my brain a lot. And I had the most amazing experience drinking in the fresh air, cooling off in the water, and enjoying the company.

So, anxiety: TAKE THAT! BOOM! I heard you, I saw you, I acknowledged you, I battled with you. Am I going to be terrified next time? Probably. Yep, probably going to do this same dance all over again. But next time it will be less scary. And the time after that it will be even less scary. And eventually I’ll just be excited-anxious, not terrified-anxious. And I will paddle on!

I write about my anxiety and depression not to seek sympathy or get attention or whatever you naysayers might believe; I write about it because if there is just ONE person out there who reads this and says “I am not alone and I can get help” and picks up a phone to call a therapist, a suicide hotline, or a trusted friend or family member then it’s entirely worth it to be vulnerable.