A Life for the Living

The vibrant colours screamed of parties and festivities, yet on the calm aquamarine waters, I felt the most peaceful in forever. Gentle waves, a smooth-sailing yacht, the thrumming beats of the onshore music fading in the distance. I lounged back on the plush cushions, half-closing my eyes in the sun, but still alert enough to observe the man at the helm.

This had been a bold move on my part. A foreign country, out to sea, alone with a stranger, destination unknown, by me at least.

What had I been thinking?!

But that was just it. For once, I was trying not to think; trying to go with my gut; attempting to unearth from deep within the truth of what I liked and wanted. Drowning out the directives, advice and demands; probing my core to find me.

It had been the pattern of my life. I was the first to sacrifice, to fit in with the group, to surrender my preferences, and ensure everyone else’s needs were met. Without realising it, I had become a chameleon, blending into the background until my true self vanished; my narrative authored by outsiders. I had lost my voice and, in so doing, my soul had been sadly abandoned.

An exhausting way to live; constantly tormented, never knowing if I’d hit the mark; anticipating my shortfall despite my wholehearted efforts. My brain hijacking my success before I even began. My beauty and strength hidden from me, with my stumbling self-belief, if not others. An eagle in a cage. So much unrealised potential, bound by the bars of conformity and the need to get it right; to be ‘the good little girl’.

But who had erected those walls?

And who was guarding the door now?

For God’s sake! I was no longer a child! Enough of seeking to do the right thing by everyone else. What was it that I desired? I really had no idea. Hence, this trip, this foray into the unknown, and the opportunity to try new experiences, to discover who I really was. It felt selfish and indulgent on the one hand, but so right, so necessary, on the other. For too long I had toed the line of everyone else’s expectations, at least, what I perceived them to be.

But this, throwing-caution-to-the-wind ‘boundarylessness’, positioning myself beyond the usual controls, was a scary proposition. I really was in uncharted waters! I was simultaneously filled with cautious excitement and terror.

My mind reeled dangerously. “What if…? What if…?” But I forced myself to focus on the possibilities. Nothing ventured, nothing gained; doors opening; new and exciting opportunities, etc. At worst, it would be an interesting or humorous tale to tell; an adventure to log in my up-to-now conservative diary.

I focused on the warmth of the sun on my body, the cooling breeze on my face, the occasional spray of water refreshing my skin; not ruminating over what had already been; not worrying about what lay ahead.

Only the now. This moment.

God! Relaxing took an inordinate amount of effort!

The noise of the anchor’s release into the water startled me from the small world of my thoughts. Grabbing my snorkel and mask, I readied to leap into the inviting water. In a ‘pinch-me’ moment, I marvelled as a pod of dolphins lolled about near the bow of the yacht.

Surely this was as close to bliss as I could imagine.

And then, it wasn’t.

______________________________

My groggy head felt leaden as I attempted to raise my bruised and stiff body from the pallet beneath me. I felt clammy and hot. Squinting with the shock of daylight, I took in my meagre surroundings. A tiny room, more closet than room, shafts of light spearing me from overhead. The threadbare throw on the pallet reeked of sweat and…was it piss? This was no 5-star hotel. No white-tiled ensuite. No welcoming pitcher of chilled water. A door with no handle. There was no way out.

My head throbbed. My dry throat screamed.

“Hello?” I croaked. Louder, “Is anyone there?”

Silence.

Dread overpowered all else in my abyss of confusion.

Where was I?

What was happening?

I worked hard to recall, to gain clarity, to make sense of my situation. I remembered the physical sensations: the stunning colour of the water, the taste of the soft silicone of the snorkel in my mouth, the mask tightened around my head. And the visceral sense of freedom from responsibility and obligation. The lightness of my body, poised on the balls of my feet, on the edge of the deck, a heartbeat away from the plunge and the cool embrace of the sea. I could see the gentle ripples, and feel the intensity of my desire to leap in and explore below the surface of the water.

But then, for a split second, a terrible unease as I felt a sudden weight shifting the boat behind me; an awareness of a presence close by, a jarring physical intrusion. Before I could turn, a hand clamped brutally over my face. The silicone of my snorkel mask smashed against my bridge, cutting off my sight. I thrashed wildly against the unyielding arms pinning me to the deck. I could not breathe. Completely disoriented and panicked, I heard the waves sound suddenly like thunder in my ears. But then… blackness.

I shuddered as fear churned deep in my gut.

Where was I?

How would anyone know of my demise?

Desperation curled me into the foetal position, rocking me in a futile attempt at comfort.

I must have dozed off, for when I opened my eyes, it was to utter darkness.

“Hello!” I shouted hoarsely, and with increased urgency, “I need to use the bathroom! Please! Somebody!”

Silence.

Surely I would not be left to die? What sinister purpose lay behind my entrapment? How cruel, how unjust, that my first tentative steps into truly living had become the trapdoor to my death.

A bolt of adrenaline coursed through me, striking away the fog. I realised I had made a decision; a conscious choice. Whatever this was, I would fight. I would not surrender.

Running my fingers urgently over the pallet, I discovered a slightly loose board. Wedging myself against the wall, I lifted the pallet onto its side. Then I kicked. Blindly, fiercely. Erratically connecting with the loose board.

“I - will - not - die. I - will - not -die,” I gritted.

With a startling crack, the timber broke free from the frame.

I had a weapon, crude though it was.

I lay in the dark, clutching the splintered wood to my chest.

No longer the chaos of thoughts competing with the expectations and demands from others. Just me. What I wanted in this moment.

No doubts. No second-guessing myself.

Absolute clarity.

“I want to live.”

This was it - undebatable, raw desire, from deep within me.

True living.

Free.