The nature of shock.

I haven't had a good day today. Friends have been in touch, seeing how I am but I have kept my responses light and cheery. I do not want to drag them down with me. I think I have always done that. Smiling can help you conceal the darkest of emotions. Others see the smile and think you are okay. Most of the time I am, although a lot of the time since my Mum has passed, I am not. I miss her so much. She was my go to person for anything and everything. I have not felt the same feeling with anyone else ever. It is not that people do not understand or I do not have a connection with them, I guess it is because my Mum and I went through so much together.

She was my Protector and even as a young child, I was hers. I remember being about three or four years old and my parents were in the kitchen. She was cornered cowering by the kitchen cupboards and he was shouting at her so aggressively. I had been in my room but knew I had to protect her so I determinedly walked into the kitchen and stood in front of her but faced him. I felt so powerful keeping my Mum safe whilst staring up at this monster. He stared down at me with evil in his eyes. I think he had thought I was asleep but who could have slept with his raging. (I think the neighbours must always have heard him but nobody ever said a word.)

He turned and walked out shaking with rage. I turned to face my Mum. I could see she was in a state of shock. It happened quite often especially when he was being abusive to us. I would wrap my little arms around her until she was okay and back with me because when my Mum went into shock, she could not speak or move a muscle. She would just stand there frozen like a statue.

Usually we were at home when it happened and were in the midst of his turmoil and abuse. But one time it occurred, I almost lost my life. I was nine and we were staying at a caravan park far away from home. My Dad had gone off somewhere, probably to visit the churches in the town. My Mum and I were having a lovely fun relaxing afternoon at the swimming pool. She was sitting on the grass away from the pool, knitting, with her sun hat on her head, enjoying the beautiful day. I had not yet learnt to swim. My Mum on the other hand had grown up at the beach and was the strongest swimmer I have ever met.

Being an only child, I always made up my own games to play and have fun. My game that day was to jump in the shallow end and then climb up the steps and jump in again. I was having a whale of a time. Each time I got out, I would check to see my Mum was still there as the pool was very busy and there were lots of families around. There were no life guards though. It was a very Afrikaans part of the country so I could not really understand much of the language I could hear around me as I had only just started learning Afrikaans.

Each time, my Mum would wave to me as I turned to run back to the pool on my circular route. As it was almost time for the pool to close, one time instead of waving, my Mum beckoned me towards her. I ran to her. She said I must get out now as we need to return to the caravan. I was disappointed and mumbled 'one last time' as I quickly turned and ran back to jump in the pool. I heard her shout but I thought she was calling me back and I really wanted one last jump in. I had had such fun that afternoon, I did not want it to end.

I misjudged the direction I ran and I had no reason to know that the pool dropped sharply from the shallow end to the deep end but my Mum knew. I jumped in and this time my feet did not touch the floor. That was strange. I found myself going down, down, down. Eventually I started going up, up, up. I broke the surface and there was my Mum standing with her outstretched arms facing me from the side of the pool. I looked at her through my drenched long curly locks that were covering my face and I knew straight away, she was in shock. I felt myself going down, down, down again and all the time I was swallowing loads of water. Then I floated up, up up again. My Mum was still there frozen in time.

People were splashing about having fun around me. I sunk straight down again and then very slowly returned to the surface. My breathing was so fast and I was taking in so much water that I started panicking. My Mum could not help me and as much as I tried to reach her hands, I had no strength. The sun was not shining any more, the children's laughter had stopped. I started descending into the abyss for the third time. Suddenly I found myself flying back upwards through the water and landing on the paved side of the pool with two huge hands around my tiny waist. My Mum was next to me and someone turned me upside down and shook me. Water poured out of me. I was gently placed on the paving and my Mum embraced me in the tightest hug she had ever given me. I responded likewise, so relieved I was safe in her arms, once again.

[My Mum told me afterwards that as I was disappearing for the third time, her voice had reappeared and she had started screaming. Everyone had looked at her strangely, not understanding what she was saying in English but one young lad of fifteen had seen her gesticulating from the other side of the pool and realised what was happening. He had powered his way over, found me, picked me up off the bottom and had thrust me poolside. Then others started helping me too. She said she had thanked them all, especially him in her best Afrikaans. He definitely saved my life that day.]

Somehow, we got back to the caravan and she lay me down to have a rest. My dad came home a few hours later and she explained what had happened. He asked her if I had been back in the pool. I thought he was mad. She said the pool was closed. He dragged me out of the caravan, ignoring her cries to let me be. He said if I did not go back in the pool that day, I would always have the fear of drowning. He got the caretaker to open up the pool and proceeded to force me back into the pool. I remember being hysterical. My biggest fear was that I knew he could not help me if I almost drowned again as he had never learnt to swim.

Anyway he pushed my face in a few times and made me go right under. It was terrifying. I swallowed more water and coughed it all up again. I could not stop sobbing. He thought he was doing the 'right thing'. Thinking back on it now, I just do not think he has the know how to ever do the right thing. I think his actions caused me to have a fear of drowning for years and even though I have worked very hard trying to overcome it, occasionally I will still suddenly 'freeze' in deep water. Fortunately, I now know how to float and if needed, I have always been able to ask for help or get myself out of that situation. I do love swimming. It sets me free.