Out Of My Depth

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I was woken by the intensity of the morning sunrays beaming through the window. The date was December 1st, and the beginning of what was promising to be a deliciously hot, dry summer. I yawned deeply and savoured the last few precious minutes in bed. Something started gnawing at the back of my brain, something that was making me uneasy and threatening to spoil my feeling of well-being. Then with a growing feeling of dread, I remembered… today it was Tuesday.


I groaned, suddenly feeling very ill. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt hot and cold all at the same time. Slowly, very slowly, I forced myself to move and start my normal school day routine. I dragged myself out of my warm, safe bed and started to dress. My clothes were laid neatly on the end of my bed and the sight of my bathers forced me to acknowledge what I was trying so hard to avoid… Tuesday was swimming day.


Recess passed, as did the next two hours with what seemed like lightning speed. For the others members of the year five class, a trip to the swimming pool meant an afternoon free from English class, not exactly a disappointment for most. The buzz of excited chatter filled my ears and I felt as if my head was about to explode. How could they be looking forward to this? Why were they laughing and joking? I hated swimming with a passion and I was petrified every time I went near a swimming pool.


The atmosphere in the bus was suffocating and my shirt was drenched with sweat. The queasy feeling in my stomach intensified with every bump and lurch and I was thankful that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was almost a relief to arrive at the pool.


Do my coursework


The strong stench of chlorine assaulted my nostrils the moment I walked through the door. I gagged and clamped my mouth tightly shut. I lingered in the change room, hoping they would forget about me. But an unkind teacher gruffly ordered me to get a move on. The moment of truth had arrived.


I was paralysed with fear and panic as I sat on the edge of the pool. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself by breathing deeply. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was hammering so hard, it felt like it was beating out of my chest. Tentatively, I lowered my legs into the water and the memories came flooding back. Horrible memories that had been the cause of so many nightmares over the years. The sudden shove from behind. The sensation of falling and not knowing where I was going to land. Finding myself under water, unable to touch the bottom, unable to reach the surface. My lungs feeling as if they were going to burst, frantically clawing the water in desperation to get air. Then finally, after what seemed like hours, but what must have been no more than a minute, being grasped under the arms and towed to safety, back onto the hard, dry concrete that seemed like the most wonderful place in the world.


I shook my head trying to rid myself of the memories. I took a deep, shaky breath, closed my eyes tightly and jumped. My feet struck the bottom and I exhaled with relief and I realised I was not out of my depth.


Slowly, I made my way out into deeper water, all the time making sure I was within touching distance to the side of the pool. I concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other, trying to block out all thought from my mind. The water was covering my shoulders and still I kept walking. The water was now up to my chin and i was feeling more confident with every step I took. Although I was still nervous, I had a feeling that this time I was going to make it. This time I was going to conquer those fears that had been part of my life for so long. I adjusted my goggles, took another deep breath and lunged forward.


Statement of Intention


The intended audience for this creative story is readers who have ever suffered from anxiety or know a close friend of relative who has. I have attempted to evoke sympathy in the reader towards sufferers of anxiety and appreciation of their efforts they make to overcome their exaggerated fears, even if they are not successful. I have chosen to describe a creative, yet realistic scenario of a boy who unfortunately suffers from anxiety and has let a past experience haunt him. In doing so, I hope to convey the fact that in uncertain times of fearfulness, the best method of attack is to strive to confront your fears, regardless of your emotions. I chose to write this piece using an emotional tone, hoping to engage the reader.





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