For no readily available reason, I have been sitting here watching shark documentaries for the past few hours, and I am now even more convinced that everything in the ocean somehow plots to kill me.

I’ve had a Thing about water ever since I can remember. I love to swim. I love pools.

Water I can’t see through makes me hyperventilate.

Exhibit A:
As a young kid, my parents once took us water skiing. Which 1) I didn’t want to do, and 2) got tricked into doing anyway by my father. Before that traumatic memory, though, I remember being very unsure of getting into the lake because I couldn’t tell what was down there.

Exhibit B:
At the camp I went to from the time I was eight until I was eighteen and working there, there wasn’t a pool. Not really. It was lined in concrete on the bottom, but the water was lake water, and I was constantly terrified that my feet were going to touch the bottom and there would be THINGS! Touching me! It was a happy day when I realized that I didn’t actually have to participate in the swimming lessons – something that had not occurred to me before.

Exhibit C (and Panic Attack A):
At Space Camp* in Alabama, they took us over to the Aviation Challenge lake, loaded us up in the helo-dunker, which looks like a maimed helicopter that is attached to a wire and hanging over the lake, and then they do this with it:

Yep. They drop it. Into the water. And the water comes whoosing in through all of the mesh on the ends and the giant open windows, and if you’re lucky, you don’t have a panic attack when you realize you are SINKING.

At that point, I discovered I might have a massively large fear of drowning, as I was freaking TERRIFIED. And this is the kiddo version, that only sinks about half way.

Exhibit D:
I’ve tried snorkling. I’ve tried SCUBA. Forcing myself to jump off the boat into water filled with who knows what has left me temporarily unable to move a muscle.

Exhibit E:
At a writing retreat that i love, there is a “dock jump” on the last day. A leap of faith, into the unknown, the unfamiliar, etc. We line up, hold hands, and jump in together.

My first year, I broke the line right before they started counting so I could have a brief freakout, but did manage to jump into the murky lake. And then promptly started to hyperventilate and got myself out as fast as humanly possible.

This past year, I had a panic attack the night before for unrelated reasons, and figured that throwing myself off of a dock into a situation that I knew caused me major anxiety would be a royally stupid idea, so I stayed on the dock and cheered when the others leaped.

So, as you can see, I am not a fan of swimming in dark water. Even water where I walk in starts to freak me out after I get about to my knees.

And Netflix documentaries have told me why. It’s because there are a multiple of things in the water (Jaws, Nessie, seaweed, whatever) that want to kill me and eat me.

Enjoy your time in the ocean. I’ll be sitting on the beach being ALIVE and in ONE PIECE.

*Yes, I am that big of a nerd. It was AWESOME.