Water, Chlorine, and Gratitude


I’ve been terrified of water all my life.
Not “a bit uneasy". Not “not a fan". I mean genuinely afraid – the kind of fear where even getting into a bathtub felt like a risk, and only with a rubber duck for backup. Lakes? No. Pools? Only the shallow end. The sea? Maybe ankle-deep. Maybe.

But here in Thailand, there’s no escaping water. The heat, the humidity, the sudden downpours – without a pool, you melt.

And I kept staring at that blue rectangle with a mix of awe and dread…

Until Wlodek decided to teach me. Again.

Yes, the same Wlodek who once made it his mission to teach me how to drive in England. And he did. Despite my tears, my panic, my near-refusal to even sit behind the wheel.

Now, in Thailand, he set his sights on something even bigger: teaching me to swim.

Alright – “swim” might be a stretch. But for me, it counts. I don’t drown. I don’t cling to the edge. I manage to swim across the pool – sometimes ten, sometimes even twenty lengths.

And yes, I still have panic attacks. Usually somewhere around the middle – I know the pool is only 140 cm deep, I know I can stand up any time…but my body doesn’t care. My heart races, my breath shortens, my brain screams.

And then – his hands are there. Close. I don’t grab a ladder. I have my husband walking beside me or just ahead, lap after lap, ready to catch me if fear takes over.

This isn’t a story about conquering fear once and for all. It’s a story about living in spite of it.

About feeling grateful – not just for the pool, which truly makes life here possible, but for the man who won’t let me give up, even when I already have.

So yes – every morning: coffee, balcony, pool. Water. Chlorine. And deep, quiet gratitude.


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