If each experience we have
adds a piece to our lives, then I became a bit stronger today as the
thermometer read frigid and my teeth chattered in the single digit temperatures
and below zero wind chills. The sun was deceptively bright making it look like a
beautiful day. The reality of the biting
cold was anything but, and no matter where I stood or moved I could not get
warm.
The beer tent evidently
was enough of an insulator for some, as they ran around in shorts and T-shirts
and some even less. Men in underwear
were running around, men that should never be publicly seen in underwear. Struggling
to comprehend their indifference to the cold, I waited until the very last
possible moment to shed my layers. I had
intentionally avoided the plunge area, not wanting to see what I was about to
do. There are times ignorance is bliss and I wanted to hold onto my ignorance
as long as possible. Finally getting in
line, my stomach danced with the anticipation and the realization of what I was
about to do, denial being ripped from me in quick layers. Why was I doing
this? I could have said no. But I never say no to things that scare me, in
fact I intentionally always say yes. The more it scares me the quicker I am to
say yes, shifting into a stubborn five year old girl stamping my feet and going
toe to toe with fear.
There is no preparing for something
like this, yet it is impossible to avoid the imagined experience in anticipation. I knew it would be bad, but I had no idea how
painfully bad it would be. As we stood
on the edge of the hole we were going to jump into, I settled into the familiar
lack of feeling. Much like skydiving
once you are in the plane and on the way, you begin to disconnect from the anxiety
and the motions become automatic. The
decision had been made long before this and despite my fantasies of imagined
escape there was no way I would have backed out. So standing there looking at the water, the
ritual of a decision already made took over. Wanting to just move I grabbed the
hand on either side of me and we jumped.
The physical shock is
indescribable and the pain is so overwhelming and intense that my mind could
not keep up. Yet I was painfully aware my brain was falling way too far behind.
Like a sideline spectator I distantly heard a screaming voice telling me to
move, move faster and get out. Yet the
paralysis of shock made it seem impossible to breathe and move. I struggled to fight through the mental fog
slowing my brain but the pain in every cell of my body made it impossible. I had assumed
the dive team in the hole was for emergencies. But as they verbally
directed me to keep moving, to go toward them, grabbing my hand and helping me
toward the exit I understood they were not so much for emergencies but to
prevent them. Immediately as I the water I was physical and mental shock,
beyond description overwhelmed me and I lost all rational thought.
Recently I have been priveleged to do some clinical work with veterans and the reminder of how long some have endured
daily and repeated stress, pain and suffering was with me as I stood on the
edge of the hole. I reminded myself this
was a short and brief pain I was about to feel, with a known end and safety
guaranteed. Questioning what I could
endure with this reminder put things in perspective.
I didn’t change the world
today by jumping into a 30 degree lake. I raised money for Special Olympics and
I was part of a shared experience and I
took a leap outside of my comfort zone. Part
of my life philosophy is to be something and represent what I believe is
important. I was true to that today for
me the plunge was simply another opportunity to step up, to be part of a team,
to step into fear, and to be part of something bigger. It is a little piece of my foundation and added
to who I am. I didn’t play safe.
