Hi, I'm Bonnie

A few years ago I went to the beach with my Dad and Stepmom. I don’t really remember if there was an occasion or not, but I think it was just a free Sunday that I wanted to spend on the sand. This was one of my first trips to the beach after moving back to LA and I remember being super excited to swim in the waves.

Growing up I spent hundreds of weekends and entire Summer’s swimming in the ocean. I have few memories of my family before my parents divorce (it happened when I was 7) but most of these memories take place at the beach we could walk to from our house. I can’t remember a time where I wasn’t able to swim and I always felt more free swimming in the ocean than a pool. Lakes kind of freaked me out, even though I loved to water ski, when I swam in a lake I always kept my Chuck’s on. I think that had to do with not wanting to put my feet in mud.

So, this free Sunday with my Dad I run out into the water, super excited to be reacquainted with the Pacific ocean. The water was freezing and the shock of the temperature almost knocked the wind out of me. It was so cold that my dad decided he wasn’t actually ready for a swim. I was determined though. Eventually I made it out past the break and started to adjust to the temperature. After about a minute though I started to panic. I was terrified of the waves. I was chest deep in the water and freaking out about the possibility of drowning. I was devastated that this formerly happy place had turned into just one other thing for me to scared of.

Then I made a decision: I was going to stay out in the water until I wasn’t scared anymore. Because I couldn’t afford to give up THIS happy place. So I stayed in the freezing cold water until I was diving under the breaking waves and trying to ride them in to the shore. And the fear left and was replaced by the joy I remembered from every other beach trip I had before.

In the movie version of this memory Cursive’s “Staying Alive” is playing in the background as I stand in the ocean with my back to the shore, facing my demons. Or at least THIS demon.

I think about that afternoon a lot lately because I figured out that all I need to do to stop being is scared is face it. To stand in the middle of that fear and say, fuck it, this is not something that is going to stop me or get me to run and hide. I’m going to sit in this fear until it looks different and it’s turned into something else. And if a wave is too big or a rip tide pulls me out too far, I still have my Dad (and all my family and friend really) on the shore to help pull me back in.