Jumping In With Both Feet

When we owned an in-ground pool, I remember being not exactly afraid as I’ve never been afraid of water, but somehow anxious about jumping in the deep end. No matter how hot the day was (a rare event in upstate New York), no matter how sweaty I got cleaning the pool, I still had to strong-arm myself into jumping in.

It seems ridiculous to me now thinking how I’d stand on the edge of the crystal clear pool, looking at the beautiful blue liner at the bottom and knowing how good, good, good! it would feel to jump in. My body would make this little forward motion and my brain would say “Uh un, nothin’ doin’, sister! It’s cold, you’ll have a heart attack; you’ll inhale water and drown; you’ll slip at the last minute and bang your head on the edge.”

This is what has also happened with this blog. I know how to type, as long as I wear glasses, I can see what I’m typing, and am able to think clearly. I own a computer. So what’s the big deal? I am then re-mind-ed that the social world can be cold place; I might inhale something nasty said about me or my writing; I might slip and not be as clever, witty, insightful as I wish to be.

But does any of that really matter? I mean after all the anxiety about jumping in the pool, I still did it. Eventually. I still took a deep breath, bent my knees and leapt faithfully into the air. Yes, the water was always cold. No, I didn’t drown. So here is my first post. I’ve jumped in and I think the water will be just fine.