{"id":4744,"date":"2012-12-07T18:26:20","date_gmt":"2012-12-08T02:26:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/?p=4744"},"modified":"2013-02-18T18:11:47","modified_gmt":"2013-02-19T02:11:47","slug":"i-want-to-breathe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/i-want-to-breathe\/","title":{"rendered":"I Want To Breathe"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

\"\"<\/a>\u00a0\u201cLeda, do you want to drown?\u201d Mom yelled.\u00a0 \u201cCome here, now!\u201d<\/p>\n

I was terrified whenever the water rose above my waist, her screams warning us to stay near the water\u2019s edge.\u00a0 \u00a0It happened every time we went to Lynnhaven Beach in Virginia.<\/p>\n

Mom, herself, had never learned to swim, although she grew up in a small town near the Atlantic Ocean in Puerto Rico.\u00a0 Born in 1923, she experienced natural tragedies, like the hurricane in which the family lost all their possessions.\u00a0\u00a0 Decades afterwards, apprehension of the ocean passed on to her offspring.<\/p>\n

But I was the one she monitored the most.\u00a0 Was it because navy doctors considered abortion during Mom\u2019s eighth month of pregnancy? \u00a0The desired outcome could not be guaranteed for a required appendectomy and they asked my dad, a navy cook, \u201cWho do you want to be saved \u2013 your wife or your daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want them both!\u201d he exclaimed with an urgent plea for their help.\u00a0 The successful operation made naval medical history in 1942.\u00a0 That was the beginning of the challenges my parents would face on my behalf.<\/p>\n

The problem with my bronchial tubes started when I was an infant; inability to breathe required frequent trips for treatment.\u00a0 One day, in the back seat of the taxi as it raced to the emergency room, Dad held me while I began to turn blue.\u00a0 On instinct, he sucked out the excess mucous from my nose and I began to breathe again.<\/p>\n

Once, the sickness was serious enough to receive the Last Rites while in the hospital. This religious ceremony, administered by a Catholic priest, indicated my imminent death.\u00a0 However, God spared my life.<\/p>\n

Mom said many years later that she prayed that God would want me back as a baby. Why should He let me grow up and then take me away?\u00a0 My mind could not comprehend her reasoning.\u00a0 I did understand why her nerves could not handle the upheavals in her young life.\u00a0 Married at 15, with 5 children before the age of 23, had jolted her emotional and physical well-being.\u00a0 Cleaning was all she knew and Mom took pride from a tidy house.\u00a0 As a navy wife, away from family, she relied on neighbors to teach her how to raise her family.<\/p>\n

Burdened with one sickly child, Mom did her best to juggle time with her other children.\u00a0 Asthma plagued me through my teen years and often, I would rest on the sofa near the window and marvel at my siblings\u2019 ability to run and skip.<\/p>\n

The few times I did get better I played softball, forced to use an atomizer from base to base.\u00a0\u00a0 This medicinal aerosol provided temporary relief but became an addiction, evidenced by rough calluses on both my palms.\u00a0 Each wheeze brought fears that one day it would be my last.\u00a0 Ashamed of the gasping sounds, I tried to hold every other breath in to lessen the noise, which didn\u2019t work except to intensify my inner stress.<\/p>\n

Due to the chronic bouts, doctors recommended several strategies which included numerous injections to unmask the guilty allergens.\u00a0 Each skinny arm received 15 shots daily for a week.\u00a0 Another method consisted of 48 blocks drawn on my back, each block to contain a needle with a different allergen.\u00a0 The results?\u00a0 Abnormal reactions flared from household dust, plants, animals, cleansers and everything on my plate.\u00a0\u00a0 Although simple improvements eased my life, Mom ignored the doctors\u2019 advice to eliminate certain foods.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy, there\u2019s not much you can eat and I\u2019m not about to let you starve to death,\u201d she explained.<\/p>\n

To increase my weight, another physician suggested a liquid which looked like milk-of-magnesium, but tasted worse.\u00a0 I refused to drink it after the first sip.\u00a0 So what if my bones stuck out?<\/p>\n

It was not easy to chew or drink, since I breathed out of my mouth.\u00a0 That inability caused my emaciated body to become the basis of ridicule, even by teachers.\u00a0 One in middle school asked with concern, \u201cDoesn\u2019t your mother ever feed you?\u201d<\/p>\n

The hurtful jokes and snickers added to the low-self esteem I felt.\u00a0\u00a0 I was shy and avoided interaction with others.\u00a0 At times, the anger and resentment of my physical limitations created emotional asthma attacks.<\/p>\n

Spring and fall were the worst seasons; however, I was able to make up any school work while recuperating at home.\u00a0 On a positive note, I did well in school and my grades excelled those of my brothers and sisters, who complained that my load of chores was added to theirs.<\/p>\n

Afflictions lessoned the last two years in high school and I graduated with a scholarship to major in secondary education, enrolling in the local university.\u00a0 After the first semester, I decided to marry my teenaged sweetheart James, who showered me with patience and encouragement. \u00a0I continued to attend classes and chose swimming as one elective. \u00a0\u00a0Maybe it would not be as terrorizing as Mom made us believe; besides, she wouldn\u2019t be around to get hysterical.<\/p>\n

This decision turned out to be a fiasco; childhood memories created unreasonable anxiety and I dropped out of college.\u00a0 A few years later, the babies started to come, both within 14 months and then we moved to San Diego, California, in 1967. \u00a0When our daughter was six years old, and her brother a year younger, thoughts of swim lessons to shield them from any water phobia came to mind.<\/p>\n

Yet, a precondition existed.\u00a0 All parents had to first participate in a six-week course. \u00a0The goal to recruit swim instructors, within the Red Cross backyard swim program for youngsters, would benefit everyone.<\/p>\n

I could feel the pangs of inner conflict rise, although failure would not impact any child\u2019s eligibility.\u00a0 That gave me the incentive to try.<\/p>\n

I\u00a0realized that fear dominated my life.\u00a0 I refused to remain a victim. \u00a0No matter what it took, a vow of victory called for combat.\u00a0 I did not want my mental roadblocks to transfer to my kids, the way it had happened to me.\u00a0 I would learn to swim, even if it killed me.<\/p>\n

Determination set in as I read the instruction book over and over and tried to memorize the necessary coordination of all body parts for the front crawl.\u00a0 The only way for me to achieve the impossible called for drastic strategies.\u00a0 I needed to perform dry swim exercises at home.\u00a0 With caution, I lay across a sturdy kitchen chair and practiced leg kicks, then added arm movements.<\/p>\n

Afterwards, with feet planted on the bedroom floor in front of the dresser mirror, I bent over and moved arms and head to simulate the correct technique to inhale and exhale.\u00a0 No witnesses allowed.\u00a0 In bed each night, I shut my eyes and imagined myself swimming with confidence.\u00a0 My subconscious mind would one day make this a reality.<\/p>\n

I returned to the same YWCA pool twice a week for many months and continued to practice at home.\u00a0 Still afraid of the water, I fought against the futility of my dream.\u00a0\u00a0 Did I dare take the course once more?\u00a0\u00a0 What if I failed again?<\/p>\n

No matter how long, no matter how many botched attempts, my mind refused to budge.\u00a0\u00a0 My jaws tightened during registration and I muttered, \u201cNo more excuses,\u201d determined to pass all mandatory tests one glorious day.<\/p>\n

The testing commenced.\u00a0 We listened for barked instructions in each category.\u00a0 Perform the front crawl with correct breathing.\u00a0 Demonstrate the butterfly.\u00a0 Do side strokes on each side.<\/p>\n

We were later told to pick a partner and execute saving maneuvers on each other for the required distance.\u00a0 Someone had mentioned that the choice of an obese person would become a guaranteed benefit because of the buoyancy factor.\u00a0 Without any hesitation, I found my subject.<\/p>\n

The final trial was a dive into the deep end to retrieve a brick from the depth of the pool.\u00a0 I took several slow breaths to relax my jitters.\u00a0 My heart thumped loudly.\u00a0\u00a0 I spied the lifeless weight and on the second try, I grabbed it.<\/p>\n

I reasoned that even if I hyperventilated under water, that stupid dead rock would be in my hands when I reached the surface.\u00a0 Remembrances of all the crippling emotions had brought me to this moment of truth.\u00a0 Fear still tried to rip open psychological scars in one last effort to stop me.\u00a0 Just keep it together and get out of the pool<\/em>.<\/p>\n

And the battle within me had finally ended.\u00a0 I could now teach others to swim.<\/p>\n

Elida S. Vinesett Bio:<\/h4>\n

Elida S. Vinesett earned her M. B. A. and became a software developer.\u00a0 Her interest in writing began with Toastmasters.\u00a0 Married for 51 years, she and James are both retired in North Carolina.\u00a0\u00a0 Elida enjoys family, travel, and T\u2019ai Chi.\u00a0 She believes the joy of the Lord gives her strength to meet daily challenges.\u00a0 You may email her at :\u00a0 vconect@yahoo.com<\/a><\/p>\n

Back to <\/strong>Stories<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u201cLeda, do you want to drown?\u201d Mom yelled.\u00a0 \u201cCome here, now!\u201d I was terrified whenever the water rose above my waist, her screams warning us to stay near the water\u2019s edge.\u00a0 \u00a0It happened every time we went to Lynnhaven Beach in Virginia. Mom, herself, had never learned to swim, although she grew up in a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":769,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[90,31,51,5,59],"tags":[178,133,150,119,156],"class_list":["post-4744","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-anxiety","category-empowerment","category-healing","category-parenting","category-self-growth","tag-anxiety","tag-empowerment","tag-healing","tag-parenting","tag-self-growth"],"aioseo_notices":[],"views":10872,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4744","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/769"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4744"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4744\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4744"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4744"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4744"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}