chris

on the strangers who find you when you're falling apart

I could never live completely landlocked.

In an oxymoronic way, the water grounds me. Makes my problems feel much smaller than my brain inflates them to be. I visit the water to talk to my Nona — to share my struggles, thoughts, and dreams with her in a live journal sort of way.

It was 5:34am on a Tuesday morning in June. I was lying in bed when my chest suddenly tightened. Short, harsh breaths took over my body and tears filled my eyes and started rolling down my face. Suddenly I felt like I had no control over my body.

I put my hand over my chest to try and ease the tightness, but the pain continued to get worse. Breaths got shorter, tears felt sharper.

Fuck, I was having a panic attack.

I sat up in bed, went through all the techniques my therapist taught me - tapping, focusing on one spot in the room, deep breathing - they weren’t working.

I started feeling lightheaded and I reached over to my nightstand to grab my phone and call my mom.

“I’m not OK, mom.”

“I know, honey,” I could hear her tears through the phone.

She talked me through my panic attack and got my breathing back to a somewhat normal state.

I can’t fucking live like this anymore.

What sucks about rock bottom is the shame associated with being at rock bottom.

How did I get here? What have I become? I hate this version of myself. I fucking hate it.

I got in my car and drove to Lake Michigan.

With gym shorts and a tank on, I jumped in. Didn’t think twice about it.

The water was cold. It hit my skin like a slap, making me gasp and forcing my lungs to remember how to work properly. It was a shock to my system in a way that I really needed. It cut through all the noise in my head instantly, like my brain finally had something else to focus on besides the panic. I floated in the water for god knows how long before climbing out and taking out my journal.

Dear Journal,
I’m fucking crashing out. Help?????

I sat there and scribbled frantically for a bit, then I shut my journal and started talking to my Nona. This prompted more tears to fall, but in a healing sort of way.

It was 7am, I purposefully chose a secluded spot on the Lakeview Trail to sit and cry and write and look a little crazy talking to my Nona.

Suddenly I felt something licking my arm. The sweetest little Australian Shepherd was behind me as their owner ran over after them.

“Charlie!!! I’m so sorry about that. He got loose.”

At this point I was already fully obsessed with Charlie so I assured his owner that it was no big deal. I asked all the standard questions one does when meeting a new doggo - gender, age, “how did you become such a perfect pupper!!!!”

“Went for a dip this morning?” Charlie’s owner asked.

“Yeah. Needed a hard body reset.” I nervously laughed. I’m sure it was obvious that I had been crying, but I didn’t care enough to be embarrassed about it.

“I’m Chris, by the way,” he extended his arm to shake my hand.

“Hi, I’m Beth. Nice to meet you and Charlie.”

Chris was probably in his mid 40s. Salt and pepper beard, very fit, light green eyes.

Ok, yeah he was very attractive.

This encounter brought me back to meeting Jamie on the beach in Rockport. I don’t know what it is about me meeting random strangers next to a large body of water while I’m mid-crash out but here we are.

I continued to pet Charlie as Chris started to ask me questions about myself - how long I’ve lived in Chicago, where I’m originally from, etc. Easy, friendly conversation.

I wasn’t in the headspace to interpret any of this as flirting because A. My mind was so far from prioritizing attractive men on my mental totem pole in that moment and B. I looked like shit so there was no shot he was flirting with me.

"You go for these early morning dips often?"

"No, this is my first time actually. I just need—" I caught myself before trauma-dumping on a stranger.

"Mind if I join you? Charlie doesn't seem to want to go anywhere."

He was right. Charlie had basically claimed my lap as his new home.

Chris jumped in the lake and climbed back up and sat next to me.

“Ah, the best feeling,” he said.

I didn't trauma dump in the same way I did with Jamie lol but the more we talked, topics I wanted to avoid sharing naturally came up. I didn't feel pressured to share, but as y'all know - I'm an open book. I'll yap to anyone who will listen lol

The more we talked, the more he opened up. People always seem to do that with me - friends, family, strangers - there's something about sitting with someone who's also clearly been through it that makes honesty feel safer.

Turns out he was going through it too.

He shared that he was going through a divorce and the process of rebuilding his life without his ex-wife has been difficult.

“I keep thinking to myself, how did I end up here? Like this wasn’t in the plan. You know?”

He had no fucking idea how much I knew the feeling.

"Yeah," I said. "I know exactly what you mean."

And I did. That feeling of looking around at your life and wondering how you ended up so far from where you thought you'd be. His divorce, my unemployment, both of us sitting by a lake at 7am trying to make sense of it all.

We exchanged numbers before he left and have hung out a few times since, but I’m not sure if it will go anywhere. Sometimes these random encounters are just meant to be what they are - proof that you're not the only one having a weird Tuesday morning.

I got back in my car, still a mess, but at least a mess who'd had a conversation with another human instead of just her dead grandmother.

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thanks for reading,

b ✨🫶

BTW - GOOOOOD NEWS HAS ENTERED THE CHAT!!!! I CAN’T WAIT TO SHARE MORE!!! 🥳