Navigating New Shores
By: Noor Sahar Chafouk
“Noor, let go.”
– “No!’
– “Let go, you’ll be fine. You gotta learn somehow.”
A splurge of water softly wraps itself around my arms.
“Swim!”
I open my eyes frantically to find myself tossed into the blissful Agadir waters. This is it. I’m swimming for the first time. No need to gasp for air, no need to think about how to jump in. I was just thrown into the wide abyss of the sea, but I felt more alive than ever. Call it adrenaline, call it the primal need for survival – but 7-year old me felt like she embodied a young Michael Phelps. Looking back, I probably splashed my hands erratically and gasped for air. But I never feared swimming again.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to the girl who bravely ran and splashed into the sea. Since that day, I became someone who leaped into any challenge without question. I imagined myself as Robinson Crusoé venturing deserted islands in my exploits and adventures – fearful of nothing and never turning down an adventure.
I perpetually find myself in confusion about the person I have become now. I’m quite literally the shiest person in any room I walk into. I usually find myself slowly retreating to the corner, glancing at my phone and quietly humming to myself, or avoiding eye contact with people I’d love to talk to. Suddenly, my exploits became simple conversation – I constantly wondered if the person liked me, what they could judge me on or if they were even interested in the discussion instead of enjoying getting to know someone else. This inhibited me from reaching out to people or relishing in making friends for a big part of my freshman year in college. These agonizing thoughts consumed me to points where I came off as rude and dismissive to others, which was exactly my fear that drove me to avoid tête-à-tête in the first place.
Part of me wishes to experience diving into the sea for the first time again. Tossed into waves that crashed into me, encompassing me with rays of the warm Moroccan sun. Fluttering my legs aimlessly and following the ripples of crashing tides. Coming to a social school like Penn is reminiscent of that experience, in some sorts. It was an absolute culture shock for someone who went to a high school with twenty kids per grade. Now, I see making conversation as something to look forward to – I’m absolved of any fear of making a bad impression or saying the wrong thing. Slowly coming to the realization that you are you, and that’s just good enough. It’s the philosophy of accepting what is in my control, my perception of myself, and letting go of the agonizing fear of coming off the wrong way. There, suddenly, I feel the soothing undercurrents of the beach drifting me to shore after getting tossed into the sea a second time.