The Fear That Followed Me—Until I Faced It by Accident

Part I: The Fear That Lingered

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve had a deep, paralyzing fear of water. Not showers or rain, but pools, lakes, oceans—any body of water where I couldn’t touch the bottom. Just the thought of it would make my stomach turn. I never learned how to swim. I always made excuses during pool parties or beach outings, pretending I had a cold or had “just eaten.” But the truth was simpler: I was scared.

It wasn't some dramatic near-drowning experience that triggered it. In fact, I can't even pinpoint exactly when the fear took root. Maybe it was the time I watched a movie as a child where someone was pulled under. Maybe it was stories from the news. Or maybe it was just that I never learned, and the unknown became a monster in itself. Over time, that fear solidified into something bigger than I could explain.

And so, I avoided water. For years.

Part II: A Life Lived Around the Fear

I organized my life in a way that allowed me to avoid it. When friends planned vacations near water, I quietly opted out. When family invited me to lake houses, I came up with last-minute excuses. I lived a carefully choreographed life that revolved around not getting wet.

It wasn’t just water, either. It was the symbolism of it. It represented the unknown. A lack of control. Vulnerability. That’s what scared me most. I didn’t want to feel helpless. I didn’t want to feel small.

Over the years, this fear subtly dictated my choices. It made me say no to adventures, no to opportunities, and no to moments that could’ve become memories.

I never told anyone the full truth. Because fear—especially the irrational kind—is hard to confess without sounding weak. I wore confidence like armor, but beneath it, I was someone who lived within invisible walls.

Part III: The Trip I Didn’t Want to Take

My friend Mia was the kind of person who loved life in motion. She called me one Friday and said, “We’re going kayaking tomorrow. Don’t say no yet. Just listen.”

Kayaking.

That was a hard no.

“I don’t know how to swim,” I told her, hoping that would end the conversation.

“You’ll have a life vest. We’ll stay close to the shore. It’s calm water. You won’t even get wet if you don’t want to.”

She said it with such ease. As if it wasn’t the exact nightmare I had been dodging for most of my life.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “You need this.”

I wanted to say no. Every part of me wanted to say no.

But something inside whispered that maybe I had said no enough times already.

So, I said yes.

Part IV: The First Paddle

The next morning, I stood at the edge of the lake, heart pounding. Mia was grinning, already strapping on her life vest. I pretended to be calm, but I was shaking inside.

The kayak looked stable enough, but all I saw was a tiny plastic shell between me and drowning. Still, I put on the life vest. I held the paddle. I listened to the instructor. I breathed.

And then… I got in.

The first few minutes were terrifying. Every wobble felt like death. Every ripple in the water sent my imagination spiraling. But Mia stayed beside me. She talked, joked, pointed out birds in the trees, and made it feel normal.

After a while, I noticed something strange.

I wasn’t scared.

Not entirely. Not in the way I had always been.

Part V: The Accident

We were about thirty minutes in when it happened. A bigger boat passed by, and the wake it created sent waves toward us. I saw them coming, tried to adjust—but the kayak tipped. And just like that, I was in the water.

The thing I had feared my entire life had happened.

Panic set in. I flailed. My lungs tightened. Water got in my mouth. For a split second, I was convinced this was it.

But then—I didn’t sink. The life vest held me up. I was coughing and scared, but I was okay.

Mia paddled over in seconds. “You’re okay! Breathe. Just breathe.”

And I did.

I floated there, clutching the side of her kayak, heart pounding.

But I didn’t die.

I didn’t drown.

The monster I had feared for so long turned out to be a shadow—not as big or as powerful as I had believed.

Part VI: The Change

Something shifted after that day. It wasn’t like I immediately became a professional swimmer or signed up for a scuba diving course. But the fear lost its grip on me.

More than the water, it was the idea that fear had ruled my life for too long. I had missed so many moments because I believed the worst would happen. That I wouldn’t survive it. That I wasn’t strong enough.

But I was.

That fall into the water was terrifying, yes—but it also became the moment I reclaimed my power. Because the thing I had been running from didn’t destroy me. It taught me.

I started saying yes to more things after that. Not just water-related ones, but all the things I had quietly declined over the years—public speaking, solo travel, dating again. Because fear, I realized, thrives in silence. In avoidance. In shadows.

But once you face it—even accidentally—it begins to fade.

Part VII: A Life Rewritten

A few months later, I enrolled in adult swimming classes. I was the oldest in the group by far, and probably the most awkward. But I showed up.

Every week, I inched a little further from the wall. Every week, I trusted the water a little more. And myself a little more, too.

Last summer, I went on vacation with Mia to a coastal town. For the first time in my life, I swam in the ocean. Not for long, not far—but I did it.

I cried after.

Because it felt like freedom.

Because it felt like coming home to a version of myself I had been running from.

Moral of the Story:

Sometimes, the fear that controls our lives isn’t based on reality—but on the stories we tell ourselves about what might happen. And often, the only way to truly overcome that fear is not through perfect planning, but through imperfect, unexpected moments that force us to face it head-on.

Courage doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes, it’s just saying yes when everything in you screams no. It’s falling—and realizing you can float.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi