Thahabu

I thought the flight to San Diego—my first time on a plane—would be the most adventurous part of my trip. It wasn’t. I entered the ocean for the first time in almost seven years. It was 1 AM and I had forgotten my swimsuit back in New York. All of my friends stayed back in the lower tide while I kept moving forward, deeper into the water, until the ocean brushed the folds of my denim cutoff shorts. As overjoyed as we all were to be at a California beach, my friends couldn’t understand why this was such a spiritual experience for me.

Even after my surgery, I was self conscious about my scars and how severe my scoliosis curve still was. I didn’t mind going to public pools with Leah and other close pals, but beaches were another story. After being diagnosed with severe curvature of the spine I became hyper aware of how I looked, afraid of being scrutinized. In my mind, beaches became public pools times 1000, an area where hundreds of strangers could gawk and laugh at my deformity. I avoided them at all costs until that night. I was wearing a crop top and short shorts instead of a bathing suit, but feeling the cool Pacific engulf my thighs made me feel welcome there, like it was time for me to come back in my two piece. Not just to return to the beach, but to start branching out—to face the fears created from my paranoia of being scrutinized or rejected. It felt like the start of falling back into myself. Becoming me all over again. ♦