Becoming Bella

The last time I was near the ocean, there was a hurricane on the horizon, causing the water to be rough and unforgiving. No one was allowed to swim because of the rip currents. People were still on the beach, but the water was unusually empty. One day, I sat on a bench along the sand and watched as the rough waves crashed against a huge area of rocks.

As I looked into the intensity of the waves, all I could imagine was what if I were on the edge of those rocks, if I fell in and silently sank to the bottom, swept away by the sea, silently struggling in the currents.

Would anyone notice?

In that moment, I didn’t wanna drown, I didn’t even wanna die, contrary to how this may sound. It’s not that I want to die, but the fact that I constantly think about what if I did. I think about my death more than I should.

It’s not the death itself, however, that consumes my mind, but what the reactions of the people around me would be, which I can’t seem to stop thinking about. I frequently feel like a ghost already floating through life, passing by people unseen and unheard. I remember a time when I would have been heard over the sound of the currents of the sea. I haven’t had that voice in a very long time.

It happened slowly. My shouts became whispers; my ability to block out people became my inability to ignore their perceptions of me. I became a shell of myself.

Unapproachable, introverted, shy. These are the things that would make me blend into the rip current. Unable to stand out to the lifeguards. Unable to stand out at all… and because I’m an okay swimmer and not a great one, I wouldn’t be able to swim out of the current. Average, jack of all trades, master of none, amateur, and no one would see me because, appearance-wise, I’ve never been a showstopper. Ordinary, modest, not conventionally attractive.

Because of these things, I would drown. Swept away by the current.

But no one would remember my silent struggle. They would finally acknowledge my remarkable things. It’s not that I fantasize about drowning or being swept away by ocean currents. I think about how people might see me more as a person and consider the things I’ve said if I were no longer invisible to them.

This isn’t a cry for help. This isn’t even about drowning or rip currents. This is me mourning the person I was before I let every insecurity devour my personality. I have people in my life who hear me, see me, and love me. I’m not incapable of being my own person; it just takes longer for people to meet that version of myself.

So, on a beach full of strangers and even acquaintances, I often wonder if I’d drown.

XOXO B