My Story

 

Most of my happiest memories have been surrounded by bodies of water: beaches, lakes, waterfalls… 

From going fishing every other weekend with my dad to boogie boarding with my cousins at the beach, I have found myself loving life when I’m near the ocean. 

Ever since I can remember I’ve had an affinity for “life under the sea”. I used to own several dolphin bracelets, for example, as I had a huge obsession with dolphins. Every time we went fishing with my family and magically saw dolphins, it felt like a kid’s first time going to Disney. “Under the water” computer games were my go-to and binge-watching Spongebob Squarepants was one of my favorite activities. After all, I’m a Pisces. 

I had and still have a huge appreciation and curiosity about life under the sea. And while I love everything about it, I fear the mystery behind it too. I’ve always been scared of what lies below the deep blue sea. An unknown world filled with millions of species we have yet to discover. Yet, every time I get into the water, I  trust in it that it will not harm me or I convince myself to think nothing bad will happen. No shark bites, no stingray injuries, no jellyfish stings..

This reality was shattered for me in 2004.

Throughout my childhood, especially during the summertime, it was a thing for my dad’s side of the family and my 11 cousins to go to our beach house for the weekend. The countless hours we would spend at the beach testify for the fun time we were having each time we went. And while I remember the good moments, I also remember being scared shitless every time I went into the water.

During the months of January-March, Panama’s beaches fill up with jellyfish. This happens to be summertime for us, so, effectively, there was a noticeable presence of jellyfish near the shore during our visits. My anxiety peaked every time the water rose an inch taller up my body with the fear of being stung by one. And every time I got out of the water, I could feel a release of tension in my body. One day, though, stood out in particular…

As I recall, it was the sunniest day. The water was almost transparent. All of my cousins were swimming playfully at the beach. “No te va a pasar nada/Nothing is going to happen to you”, said my grandfather, as he carried me in his arms towards the sea. I remember looking down at the water, seeing not one but multiple jellyfishes swimming around. I kept telling my grandfather I was really scared, but he refused to hear it. He then put me in my aunt’s arms, who was already in the water, and comforted me in the fact that I would be safe in her company. I remember looking around, testing the waters, literally, seeing my cousins joke and make funny faces to me, when suddenly, the most excruciating feeling took over my body. It felt as if lightning had strung me. My left hand and left leg were burning like fire. I was in fact, stung by a medusa.

I was rushed back to land immediately. At this point, I blacked out. But my family members tell me that as soon as they heard “the screams of death”, they knew something was wrong. My next memory is lying in the sand looking up at the sky. I had a bunch of people looking at me with worried faces. The locals came to help and recommended they pour piss on me to relieve the pain. Little did they know it would hurt even more… Some home remedies like aloe vera were used to treat my wounds, but not even the slightest sense of relief was brought upon me both physically and mentally. 

What was once a silly fear became a permanent one, at least during the first few years after the fact. I refused to get into the ocean for the following 3-4 years. I had to use jeans and long-sleeve shirts for the first year because my burns could not be exposed to the sun. And while I did everything in my power to not end up with scarring, they are still visible. My left leg is scratched with marks of tentacles as is my left arm. I was 7 years old when I was stung and now I’m 25. And while the process of overcoming and accepting the fear felt never-ending, I can proudly say I can swim joyfully in the ocean. 

It’s crazy how our happiest memories can also be tied to traumatic ones. How what sparks the most curiosity in you also instills a sense of fear. How something you once dreaded becomes something you hold dearly…  In fact, I used to hate my scars. Now, they mean a lot to me. I see them as a sign of strength and perseverance. Of transforming my deepest fear into the deepest love and respect for the world around us. Of the kid I was and the woman I am to become. My scars are proof we can overcome everything we set our minds to if we dedicate ourselves the time to heal internally and externally. They are transformation— the ultimate metamorphosis.

 
 
 
Paty Morris