​I have this theory.

[Sensitive Content: sexual content]

I have this theory.

I think I was part of the ocean once. I can feel it.

We understand each other. Even share the same emotions. I know, sometimes dramatic. Overstepping boundaries and flooding into streets when a storm comes. Reaching high and then crashing down in an ever-changing pattern.

Sometimes our moods are even in sync. I may not be as graceful as she is, but I feel it. We share something.

Oh, the ocean is definitely a female. With all those emotions, it only makes sense. Something beyond our comprehension that we only get to experience a small fraction of. Something that gives life to so many things has to be a woman.

Did you know that 70% of our oxygen is produced by plankton that lives on the ocean floor? Of course, the plastic build-up is suffocating the plankton and the oxygen can’t reach the surface as easily. We are essentially cutting off our own life source.

That poor woman.

She bends and breaks, gives us air to breathe, and food to eat, and we abuse her. Leave her uncared for and deprived of true love. I do think I was part of the ocean. Maybe I still am. Maybe I only get rough when I’m in the middle of a storm. Maybe my conditions have to be calm before I can relax. There’s probably a warning to stay away when I get agitated too.

It’s the conditions, always causing things to change.

The ocean’s tide moves several feet between the high and low points. Twice a day, she goes through massive changes. Being pushed and pulled back and forth by outside forces. Changing her appearance and behavior each time.

I think it’s the same for us.

Days change us. It happens all the time. Those days create memories, mold you into who you are and guide you where to go. Sometimes change is necessary and good. We change to grow. We learn new skills and change our jobs, get a promotion. Good.

Other times, the change happens so quickly that we may not realize it at first. Accidentally running a redlight may get you a ticket that you don’t see for a month’s time. Maybe you didn’t even know the light was red. It changed in an instant and all you could do was get through it and keep going…

I know some days changed me, molded my character, and guided me whether I wanted it to or not.

I imagine if I were the ocean, my tides have risen to their greatest height and dropped to their lowest depth in a matter of seconds. Without me even realizing the impact it had until much later.

The biggest parts of our character are created as a kid. You go wherever you are told to go and do whatever you are told to do. Decisions are made by adults who supposedly know what’s best and want what’s best for you. They tell you and you listen. It doesn’t matter if there is a good reason or any reason at all.

All of a sudden, you’ve lived this life full of circumstances and events you didn’t understand or even have a say in. Then, you grow into an adult and you look back at the things that made you…you… and all of a sudden, you get it.

I was four. I had just woken up. Wobbled my feet across the hall to my parent’s room. I look inside for my dad. Like I did every morning… but the room was empty. Standing in the hallway of that little two-bedroom mobile home. I asked my mom “where’s daddy?”. Her only reply… “he’s gone” and nothing more. I could see she was upset. Her eyes a little teary as she swept up the remnants of an argument.

That day changed me. I’m sure of it. I remember running around and playing with my sisters before then but not so much after that. I can’t remember if I was the only one upset or if we all felt it. I don’t remember him ever coming up in conversation and I never tried to bring him up either. I remembered the hurt on my mom’s face. I didn’t want to see it again.

That day made me afraid that people would always leave.

I wonder if the ocean feels the same. Nobody can stay forever. We visit. Maybe for a minute or a few months but eventually we have to go back to land. Everybody leaves her too, but she doesn’t change because of it. In fact, I think it’s just the opposite. We change after we leave the ocean. The sand and salt get washed off and replaced with lotion or aloe. It’s funny. Only after we leave do we feel the dry skin and sunburn from the day.

Maybe he felt that too. Dry and burned.

I want to be as strong as her. I want to be graceful and powerful all in the same moment. My power has not been graceful. It hasn’t been power at all if I’m being honest. When I’m fighting a storm and throwing out waves too dangerous to stand in, it isn’t power. It’s weakness and pain. That four-year-old girl still feeling betrayed, fighting to not get hurt again.

Maybe it’s the storms that cause the most damage. We can’t blame the ocean; she’s only reacting to the environment. It’s the moon that pushes and pulls her back and forth in a never-ending cycle. It’s a storm that causes waves to grow so high they have no choice but to be dangerous when they finally break.

I was in the middle of a storm… and eventually, my waves had to break.

I was 14 when they really started to be dangerous. I didn’t know it had happened at the time. It was 10 years later, sitting in the shower, that I realized.

The water was cold, and I suddenly thought that I had felt this before. Like a memory that I had never held on to. It crashed down all at once and flooded my existence.

I had felt this before. Cold water hitting me while I sit in the bottom of a shower with tears running down my cheeks. I had done this before. Many times but now I remembered the first. It was the first time I broke. More than a wave broke. It was me. All of me, broken, at 14. A memory I had never wanted pushed itself into the front of my mind. Triggered by the cold water that continued to fall around me.

It’s dark. I can’t see. I open my eyes. No, just keep them closed. …. Spinning. Everything. ……… I’m in the bathroom. I think I puked. Close my eyes. …… open them again…. There’s people. All around. 5, 6. I don’t know. They’re blurred objects. I’m tired. Maybe I fall asleep. ….. …… ….. I’m moving. I don’t think I can move. …. I can’t. They’re holding me up. Why are we moving? Outside? Trey’s tuck. Okay. I get in. They throw me in. .. I lay across the back seat. Both doors are open. I don’t know how. I’m really tired. My eyes close again. …. I’m choking, I cough. My head is bent back and I can’t see again. I hear laughter. I don’t know whose. My legs are cold. I try to cover them with my hands, but I can’t. I think I have to pee. … I hear someone talking. The first voice I’ve heard in a while, I think. “Nah guys come on. She’s too drunk for this.” … The doors finally close. ….. I wake up in a bunk bed. I don’t really know how. Do other people forget too? Trey gets dressed; I think he was talking to me but none of the words had meaning. The sun is up but it’s not the same sun I’m used to. This isn’t the same body I’m used to either. Something changed last night. I’m not me anymore. I think I broke. Across the back seat of a burgundy trailblazer. When he dropped me off at my house, I went directly to the shower…the water was cold that day. I remember. I couldn’t even stand up. Where’s that strength they said I had? I’m not strong. I’m barely breathing. Maybe I’m not the ocean after all.

She’d drown those mother fuckers.