My mother always had a flair for the dramatic, but by all reports, I was a fussy baby. She swore I was colicky for the first two years of my life. The one thing that would calm me down and put me to sleep was a wind-up swing. Not sure how old I am in the picture, but that is me passed out in my swing. I also sleep best in an odd position. For years I wondered why that was. When I found the picture, I realized that is the same position I still sleep in, just in a flatter format.
My time in the swing as an infant imprinted on me. I don’t remember a playground day in the first few years of elementary school that wasn’t mostly spent on a swing. I am an introvert by nature. The swings always provided a safe and solitary activity. I could always go there and not be bothered. That was tested in fourth grade. A new girl showed up. Linda didn’t know anyone in our grade. Out of a playground packed with fourth graders, I don’t know what it was about me that drew her in. She came and swang next to me every day and drove me nuts. Eventually, she wore me down and we became inseparable best friends. She introduced me to magical places like the top of the monkey bars and activities like raking leaves with our shoes into pretend rooms behind the big tree in the back corner of the playground. She also introduced me to the world of hand-clapping games. Our favorites were Dr. Pepper and Miss Mary Mack. Linda taught me that it is okay to leave the safety of the swing and participate in the world. There is always an available swing, but the same cannot always be said about great friendships or relationships of any kind, especially for an introvert.
When I was a kid, one of the most stressful things I ever participated in was games of hide-and-seek with the neighborhood kids. Something about the notion of getting caught before reaching home base caused me severe anxiety. I was the kid who always hid in the closest spot to “base” in the direction I didn’t think whoever was “it” would look first. Most of the time my strategy worked perfectly. It did, however, unanimously annoy the neighborhood kids because I was hardly ever “it”. In the rare instances I was “it” I would get exasperated, start crying, quit, and go inside. I don’t know at all why I played or why they even let me play.
A lot of things in life have felt to me like a game of hide-and-seek. The nearest swing has always been home base. The biggest difference is I go there after I’m caught. When I am overwhelmed, when I feel like I’m losing, when I’m sad, when I need to be alone … I swing. So many things drive me there. It’s a shame the seats on those things are not made for adult hips. Anymore, the practice brings more pain than peace. I have to go for power peace instead of a good, long think like when my hips were more appropriately sized for the activity. Even so, the swing remains a buoy for me. Something about the blend of nostalgic, squeaky-metal sound, blue skies, and fresh breeze on my face gives me the strength to set out into the world again.
What about you? Do you have a destination or activity that brings peace? I imagine there are lots of really great things that could fit the bill. I think as humans we need a destination or activity handy for when we need to escape. Our seas are going to get rough every now and again and we will occasionally be separated from our mental and emotional boats. It is an inescapable part of life. Before that happens, it is smart to identify all of our available buoys worthy of clinging to.
