It has taken well over a week to thaw my frozen neurons and make an honest appraisal of my icey adventure.
It is as though all I can say is, "Yup, I did it. I jumped. It wasn't bad". This seems to be the extent of my report. Just can't think of anymore to say.
I don't really know why I can't find more words than that, but really it is all I got.
When I think about the Plunge what mostly comes to my mind is that I needed "HELP".
I really dislike that word.
My biggest fear going into the Plunge was that I would need help getting out of the water. I wanted to do it ALL BY MYSELF...
I was scared that I would be the one floppy 45plus year old woman who they had to chain lift from the water...(really, the thought crossed my mind)
But this needing to do things all by myself... ("I don't need any help, thank-you", "no I got it--I'm good", "really I am okay", "I prefer to it alone"..."I want to do it my way", "STEP ASIDE AND LEAVE ME ALONE!")... tends to get me into trouble.
But I just can't seem to shut it off. It comes natural. Just like brown eyes and the sur-name Slagter...
Yes, I needed help and I am okay with it.
When I jumped into that freezing water all breath left my lungs, the heat sucked out the top of my head and cement filled my legs.
My mind shouted many bad things all at once and I saw sparkly tiny ice crystals form on the inside of my closed lids.
And then it happened...
I came to the surface...reaching for help.
No thoughts what-so-ever about looking needy, or weak, or stupid, or "less-than".
I just did it, as if by instinct...
Perhaps there is hope for me after all...
After the Plunge friends e-mailed pictures from the event. My friend Lisa snapped this picture. And it says it all. Thanks Lisa!