Aquaphobia｜Sanmingzhi Teens

By Tianwen Qin

Since relocating to Japan, I have come to enjoy water in so many forms—oceans, lakes, Onsens, and many more. I like how the ocean’s waves crash against the shore, the cool touch of a lake on a hot summer day, and after a long journey, the curing effects of an onsen. Yet who could have imagined that water was my nemesis, haunting me throughout childhood, and that I had been afraid of it since I was a kid? In fact, no matter how shallow the pool seemed or how cozy a hot spring appeared, I always had a sensation of an abyss appearing below.

My intense fear of water began during my first swimming lesson nine years ago. Even just looking at the pool back then sent shivers down my spine. The horror became real when my coach pushed me into the deep water, because I didn’t have the courage, perhaps.

He yelled, “Hey, if you’re not gonna try, I might need to force you to do so!”

The coach, tall and furious, laid his massive palms on my shoulders like a hurricane touching land.

Without warning, my entire body was airborne. For a brief moment I was weightless, as if someone paused gravity. Before my brain was able to catch up, I slammed into the water, followed by a loud bang. As I plunged into an unknown realm, I lost control and a void opened wide.

After returning to the surface with great effort, I was submerged once again, dragged into the

bottomless pool. Water rushed into my mouth, flooding my throat. My lungs screamed for air, but all I found was silence and pressure. I screamed for help, “Someone, please! I am drowning!” but nobody answered.

When I made my way back to the poolside, the terror of water had rooted inside me.

It wasn’t until the first trip to Hakone that I discovered that water, the once spooky liquid, can actually have restorative powers. Water in this form was known as onsen, or in English, hot spring. In Japan, onsens are widely enjoyed and come in many varieties and styles. Some, like Kusatsu Onsen, are piping hot, while others, such as Kumamoto Onsen, are known for their distinctive colors—in this case, a vivid shade resembling blood.

In Hakone Onsen, I started by taking a dip, soaking one foot into the spring, measuring its depth and temperature. Then, I put both legs in, attempting to feel the so-called healing effect. Warm water flowed around my skin, relieving the pain of a scar on my knee from tripping on a stone. Figuring out how magical it was, I made a bold move and immersed myself in the lukewarm water. Instantly, a wonderful sensation swept over me, like sunlight shining through a cold room, cleansing me of all the fatigue stored inside.

“Try rubbing your finger,” my father whispered. “Pretty smooth, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of smooth, but why?” I questioned curiously, rubbing my finger nonstop.

“That’s because the onsen is alkaline, and it’s chock full of minerals.”

It’s always intriguing to do things with my father. He talks in a unique and sometimes motivativing way to bring out your passion.

Through a journey of visiting onsens, I overcame part of my fear of water.

A long while ago, I had a Malaysia tour in Sabah. My father is a diving enthusiast, so he booked a snorkeling boat tour, which I hardly enjoyed. To me, the ocean wasn’t a breathtaking blue carpet—it was an gigantic pit waiting to swallow me. This was how I saw the ocean—until I took a closer look. Unlike the swimming gym, filled with pungent sanitized water, the jade-colored sea was truly stunning.

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” my father giggled at me in the sea, surrounded by a school of fish.

“No thanks!” I yelled. “I don’t wanna be devoured by a shark.”

He exclaimed, “Oh, c’mon! Look at these adorable creatures. I bet you would absolutely love it if you come down here.”

As our cruising boat approached the shore, a strong desire to explore the marine world popped up somehow.

“Will I do it? What if I don’t make it to the shore?” I murmured to myself on a tuktuk, heading toward a remote Thailand beach not far away.

My inner personality split up into two. One suggested that it’s time to defeat aquaphobia, yet the other implied that I should stay the same, away from dangers. I pondered which side to listen to. Would it be better to take the risk and unlock my secret potential of swimming, or should I remain in “the habitable zone”becoming someone entirely unrelated to water? After a while of brainstorming, I took both options. I thought there must be a balance between the two, not too intense yet not too faint. Sometimes, people take it too far, like cave diving diehards who get stuck and never return. Others stay too deep in the comfort zone, like certain otaku spending unproductive days of their entire life.

Soon I saw the curved outline of a massive beach, and of course the ocean and the fear I knew I had to face. Tropical-flavored wind brushed my face, along with the scent of salt, sand, and ripened fruits. I got off the tuktuk, following my father through a jungle path that eventually led to a vast, sandy beach. What came into my view was the sea stretching infinitely.

After a few more steps, I reached a beachside cabana, and that’s when the trial started.

“Will I do it? What if I don’t make it to the shore?“ the pessimistic personality took control over my mind again.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” my father asked.

“Nothing,” I grumbled. “You know I’m just nervous.”

“Hey, listen. All I want you to do is try,” he encouraged.

“I got it.”

“That’s how the difference is made. If you don’t try, you never know.” I left the cabana with a swim

float wrapped around my left arm and goggles on my head. Physically, I was ready, but mentally, not so much.

With both parents beside me, I approached the seaside, stepping into the crunchy sand.

“It’s probably going to be fine,” my inner voice acted again, but the optimistic side. It was a reassuring voice. Without realizing, seawater had already immersed my waist. “No, you better stop right now!” the negative side shouted.

Indeed, the water was sharp and biting, totally devoid of warmth. Nonetheless, there was a purpose to try. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and moved ahead.

The water level reached my neck, and I had to tiptoe in order to keep my head above the surface. My breathing started to become rapid; the two lungs fought for even a little amount of air. Unable to manage my emotions, I panicked, losing balance in the murky sea. Water with a fishy savor flooded my nose in an instant, forcing me to drink a salty soup. Fortunately, my father was able to catch me just before a catastrophic event. “Woah, I didn’t think you could make your way here!”

I was still trembling.

“Now you can try to put on your goggles and sink your head into the water,” he encouraged. “You can see a lot of interesting stuff.”

Holding my breath underwater was a difficult task, since I was always afraid that I might inhale water by mistake. But still, it felt like something worth trying. With the goggles on, I was on the way to the true depth. Instead of evading, I paddled through it with great strength. The fear that once devoured me was still there, but no longer gripped and squished me like before. As I sank my head into the ocean, I glimpsed at the tornado of sardines, vibrant coral reefs, and everything else—a dimension that I could only explore in a dream.

Breaking through the sea surface, I realized my body and soul were freed, released from fear.

“See! All you have to do is to try!”

Since that day, my fear of water was blown away, like a fog that had blinded me for years suddenly cleared. The trial of overcoming the fear of water—honestly, I never believed I was able to go through it. Yet somehow, I did it. Even though every fiber beneath my skin resisted the cold bite of water, I kept going.

And so I realized that aquaphobia, my worst enemy, was nothing more than a trap of my own making.

All I have to do is to step forward. If I hadn’t been standing beside my father in the cabana, I might never know how powerful “giving it a shot” could be. That would have left me as the inept child nine years ago, unwilling to even dip a toe into the pool.

During the summertime in Japan, I always swim in a wide river not far from where I live. It is a murky river, something that would drag and drown me if I still despised water.

Occasionally, on a day with nice weather and light wind, I could swim across the entire river back and forth for hours, without even realizing how much I once hated water. One day on the muddy shore along the riverside, I thought back to a scene—a scene where a kid was arguing with his coach near the poolside. He was thunderstruck to learn that the coach was going to toss him into the pool. The coach lifted him up, swung him into the air, and after a loud splash, he was struggling to breathe in the water. I knew that the kid was already filled with potential and courage. He was just too young and too immature to face what was below the surface.

Well, I guess fear originates from inexperience, not incapability.

Julia Hollingsworth

Julia holds a Masters in Creative Writing:

Nonfiction from the University of East Anglia and a Bachelor of Arts in English from Abilene Christina University.

Tutor’s comment：

I am so impressed and inspired by the ways you have worked to edit and shape this story into a polished and emotional piece. Before you entered the class Zixin mentioned that you write or enjoy poetry. I thought about that often as I read your beautiful descriptions. You have a natural ability to draw the reader in, to create an enchanting world to occupy. The final adjustments you made, even just in small things like using the specific names such as Kumamtoo, Kusatsu, and Hakone, or describing your father’s way of speaking as motivation and unique added the perfect finishing touches to this story.

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