A near death experience over the weekend has left me quite cranky and introspective.
I am a girl, or woman if you consider that I am 48 years old. I am the “weaker” sex, I am petite in stature. I know I cannot bench press my weight or lift a car off someone unfortunate enough to be under it. But I am self sufficient and I take care of myself.
My experience this weekend was a whitewater rafting trip with an adventurous guide that realized all the adults in the raft were game for a little extra fun on Ocoee River, home of the 1996 Olympic whitewater events. All but one of us were experienced rafters and we were looking for something a little more exciting than the junior high youth group gets on the water. We were not disappointed.
The near death experience came in the most difficult part of the river, a 4+ class rapid with a double undertow. The drop off into the rapid was 5 feet and the rapid went on for several more drop offs before it was reduced to a class 3 and dumped into calm water. Our guide tried to do a “fun” maneuver that did not work out and our raft was first sucked into the undertow and then spit out and flipped.
It happened so fast that I didn’t realize we were overturned until my face hit the rocks. I realized I was underwater and held onto my life jacket. Life jackets are amazing. I felt like I was on a jet propelled rocket to the surface. When I surfaced I saw our overturned raft, our guide and one passenger struggling to stay above the water. Then I was swept away in the class 4 rapids.
I kept being pulled under and I fought to keep my head up. I was slammed into rocks. My brain told me to swim, but that is not what you do in rapids. I fought my gut instinct and laid on my back and used all my concentration to keep my feet above the water. I wanted to stop myself but I knew I was not supposed to do that or I could get trapped in the rocks.
I was scared shitless. I struggled with what to do and I realized there was nothing I could do. I could see what was ahead and it did not look good. My mind steeled itself and I remember thinking I had no choice, I had to ride this out and it was going to be really really bad. I was bleeding from my mouth I could taste the blood. I had pains shooting through every part of my body from hitting the rocks and there was no stopping myself.
Surprisingly I did not close my eyes in fear like people do when something horrible heads their way. I took some deep breaths and saw a huge drop off getting closer. I thought for a moment about how I did not want to go down that drop off but that was just too bad.
In retrospect, doesn’t that happen a lot in life? You see the shit coming and you know its bad but there is not a damn thing you can do but take a breath and get through it. A loved one is terminally ill. A partner has an affair. A spouse wants a divorce. You get fired. Your kid has gotten into trouble. You can’t pay the bills and repossession or foreclosure is looming. You see it. You know its bad and you don’t want to go there, but the current is carrying you along and you cannot stop it. So you just go.
As I braced myself for what was to come in the river, I was surprised to hear someone screaming my name. I turned to the right and saw a rescue raft. The guide in the rescue raft had his paddle out and told me to grab it fast. I had to struggle to reach it, and I believe I stretched farther and harder than I have ever stretched in my life to grab that paddle. He pulled me to the raft and as the raft was navigating the rapids, he and my son-in-law, whom he had also rescued, worked hard and fast to get me into the raft just as we hit the drop.
I was so shocked by the rescue that I laid back and was on the verge of hyper ventilating. I didn’t believe it! I had been rescued.
The almost sad thing about my experience is that I have learned throughout my life that I am on my own. I do not expect to be rescued, ever. I don’t expect anyone to defend me or take up for me or fight my battles. That has been my life experience. I’m sure there are Dr. Phils out there that would love to dissect that and diagnose me with some disorder, but honestly, I’ve never felt anyone owed me anything.
My parents were the typical parents of the 1960’s and if they were parents today using their same parenting methods, they would both be in jail. My brother and I were not the center of their universe, as a matter of fact, I’m quite sure we were in the way most of the time. If a neighborhood kid went to my mom to tattle on my for some horrible infraction, like throwing sand at the playground or not taking turns on the swing, I was in for an ass beating. Even if the other kid was lying and I was crying to my mom telling her I didn’t do it, my mom always believed the other kid and the ass beating was administered. This was the pattern my entire childhood.
I learned from those experiences that my parents were not my defenders. They would not rescue me from bullies or lying little snot nosed kids in the neighborhood. If a teacher said I did something, it didn’t matter whether I did it or not or if I was even at school that day, my parents always believed the teacher. I cannot think of a single time in my childhood that either of parents believed me when I contradicted anyone else. As a kid, I figured it out. No one is going to get me out of anything. I have to take care of myself as no one else will.
This is not to say I had bad parents. I was taken care of as far as food, shelter, clothing, etc. I had good parents by the standards of the ’60’s.
As a teenager, there are two incidents along these lines that stick out for me. The first was when I was in the 10th grade. In our neighborhood, we all went to private schools. Some of my neighborhood friends went to my school, some went to others. At my school, I was picked on all the time. I was called names and harassed. Today that is called bullying and it is taken seriously. Back then it was horribly painful and mean, but everyone including the teachers thought it was funny for the bullies to pick on those of us they chose to victimize. Again, no one was going to rescue me from that misery.
In the group of neighborhood friends I hung around with was Tony. He was a bad boy. He was supposed to be in the 10th grade too but had failed and was in the 9th. He went to a different school. He was tough. He smoked. He had scars on his face from fighting. He was SSSOOO good looking and he liked me. One day we were sitting on my front porch when one of the bullies from school came walking by with his cocky bully stride. He saw me sitting on the porch with Tony and apparently he did not know Tony that well. The bully called me a name and started laughing. I was embarrassed to be harassed in front of Tony and I remember thinking Tony would probably stop liking me if he knew how unpopular and hated I was at school. I ignored the bully and hoped he would just go on by without saying anything else.
To my absolute astonishment, Tony leaped up from the steps, bowed his back and walked quickly toward the little bully. The bully was shocked. I can still recall the look on his face, it was priceless! Tony shouted, “Hey you! Hey you! Pussy! I’m talking to you Pussy, look at me.” Tony grabbed the bully by the shirt and got right in his face. I could see the terrified look on the bully’s face. Tony threatened to stomp his ass if he ever so much as looked at me wrong again.
For the first time in my 15 year life, I had been rescued! I felt like a princess! I went from liking Tony to loving him and planning our wedding and babies! The joy I felt in my chest was overwhelming. THIS is what it felt like to have someone rescue me, to take up for me. This was the knight in shining armour on the white horse. I liked it. But it only happened once. I’m happy for the memory.
The second incident I remember was when I was 18. I had a female roommate and a boyfriend. My boyfriend and I were pretty straight laced. We might say a cuss word when we were mad and we did drink a beer every so often, but we were not bad nor did we do drugs. My roommate was trying to find herself and started dating the biggest smartass dope head in town. Our group of friends knew this guy and no one liked him. He was bad news. My roommate just couldn’t resist him and he pursued her hot and heavy.
My roommate and I had rules we established when we first moved in together and the big one was no drugs in our home. I came home one night to the smell of pot in the living room. I addressed it the next day with my roommate and she apologized and said it would not happen again. Well, it did. I confronted the dope head and told him not to smoke pot in our trailer and he told me he’d do whatever the hell he wanted. I did not respond to him and the next day I asked my roommate to move out. That did not go over well and ended in a cussing shouting match with my roommate and the dope head against me. A neighbor called the police. The police contacted the landlord who said the trailer was rented to me so they made her leave. She moved in with the dope head’s parents.
A couple of weeks later my boyfriend and I were in a parking lot talking with friends because that’s what you do in small towns. The dope head pulled up on his motorcycle, right up to the driver’s side. He leaned in and got right in my boyfriend’s face and said, “I heard you were gonna whoop my ass.”
My boyfriend was not a fighter. He was not athlete. If I had to classify him as a strong man or pussy, he would be a pussy. Boyfriend looked at Dopehead and with a whiny apologetic voice said, “I never said that. I don’t have a problem with you.”
Dopehead looked at Boyfriend and said, “I heard you said I was a pussy and you were going to whoop my ass.”
Boyfriend was shaking in his shoes. He whined to Dopehead “Who told you that lie?”
Dopehead pointed at me and said “that sorry bitch beside you.”
Boyfriend did not miss a beat. He looked at me and asked “Why did you want to tell a lie like that?”
Dopehead started laughing, gunned his motorcycle and took off. I was too pissed to speak. I looked at Boyfriend and spit through my teeth, “I never said anything about you whooping his ass or calling him names. I have kept you out of the fight between me, him and Roommate. He was trying to start some shit. I can’t believe you just did that.
I got out of the car, slammed the door and walked back to my trailer. Which is another good thing about small towns, you don’t have to go far when you are pissed and need to walk home.
I didn’t expect Boyfriend to jump in and offer any assistance throughout the ordeal with Roommate, however, I was a tad blindsided when he was forced into the situation by Dopehead and he threw me under the bus. That goes beyond being self sufficient and into the realm of protecting myself from idiots who will cause harm.
All my life I have known that the only person I can depend on is me. There are no rescues. Flat tire on the side of the interstate? I better get the jack. Sick and can’t drive myself to the doctor? Either get well or call 911. Bad in-laws making life hell? Suck it up because no one, not even my spouse, will help me out. Broke and can’t buy groceries? Get over it or starve. Babydaddy who doesn’t feel like paying child support? Get a second job. No babysitter? Stay home. No money for gas? Hey, you have a bike. Kids want to go to college and babydaddy doesn’t feel like helping? Get a third job.
I have learned throughout my life that no one is going to save me. This is actually a good thing because over the years I have become self sufficient, I don’t waste emotional energy worrying about who is going help me and how I will get them to do it, I just jump in and fix it. I didn’t waste my time and money fighting with babydaddy all those years trying to make him pay what he legally owed me. I just got that second job and sucked it up. I didn’t wait for someone to come change my flat or push my disabled car out of traffic, I just mustered up my strength and took care of it myself. I didn’t wait for my boss to fire me, I found another job.
I never expected a rescue raft. It was a pleasant and welcome surprise. I was ready to face the death experience on my own, as I have so many other issues in my life. Even though I still pride myself on being self efficient, I am so grateful for the paddle stretched out over the water for me. Maybe I appreciate this more than most would because it never occurred to me that anyone would help me. I was prepared to be seriously hurt or die, it never crossed my mind that there was help, that I would be rescued.
The rescue happened so fast. We were reunited with our raft and our guide quickly. So fast that I didn’t get to ask who my rescuer was. I don’t know his name, I don’t even know what rafting company he was with, but in my mind, his name is Tony.
