I was at summer camp when I nearly drowned at around age 11 or so, and by all accounts, it was entirely my fault.

I had discovered I could stand up at the top of the ~15' water slide and drop in by kicking my legs out from under myself for a dramatic speedup traversing the side. I did this two or three times before the lifeguard told me to knock it off. I (fingers-crossed) promised to stop, only to try my luck and tempt fate one last time, with nearly dire consequences.

I subsequently discovered that the 90 degree curve to the slide between the top of the slide before it overhung and exited into the pool was designed with a retaining lip on the sides of the slide, which was more than adequate for normal speeds and operation; I learned about conservation of motion as I cleared that lip and continued over it at speed, flying ass over teakettle over the lip.

I immediately realized too late my mistake as I launched off the slide in horror, as I was now flying dangerously fast laterally midair ~10' above the concrete poolside with just enough angular trajectory to watch myself fall in perceptive slow-motion onto the poolside, slamming my entire body onto the concrete, knocking the breath out of me while slamming my head on the immovable surface, rolling into the pool and stunning me. I remained conscious just long enough to realize I had made a terrible mistake, as I couldn't move as I sank under the surface, got tunnel vision, and blacked out as wondered about my life choices.

My last memories before blacking out were of everyone around me immediately flipping out and rushing toward me. Fade to black.

When I regained consciousness, I was laying on the bleachers on the opposite side of the pool. My camp counselor and the camp owner/administrator were there, and no one else. I have no memory of being saved, but clearly I was. I don't know if I ever stopped breathing, but it's entirely possible. I remember how pale they both were. The suddenness of entire sequence of events and the dreamless certainty of unconsciousness were quite unnerving, and I was shaken by the blow to the head and my inability to move afterward. I felt immense equanimity, strangely calm, incredibly embarrassed, and upset that I didn't feel more upset. I wanted to both stay there with them and ask them what happened and to run away and be alone. I wanted my mom and yet feared putting my mother out by calling her. We lived quite some drive away and I felt like I was wasting the money she had paid for me to go and cutting her time away from me short.

I ultimately couldn't bring myself to stay. I didn't feel safe, and I knew it was all my fault. I feared getting in trouble with my mom, and I didn't want my mom to get mad at the camp staff, since it wasn't their fault, and I was already embarrassed enough as it was. Most of all I just wanted to go home.

Years later I would get caught in a riptide off the coast of New England, and I could barely hear a different lifeguard yelling at me to come back. Without realizing it I was hundreds of feet out in the ocean. I was always a strong swimmer and competent floater, but I learned how to swim in rivers and streams; this was my first time in the ocean. I realized that I was in a rip when I was nearly spent, and had to float on my back and rest as the waves crashed over me, over and over, for what felt like minutes. It was a slog.

I finally reached the shore and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. It was the heat of the summer but I had lost a lot of body heat. Everywhere I had a scar was deep purple. I had nearly drowned a second time, and had inhaled enough water to likely be at risk of dry drowning. It was probably the most harrowing experience I've had on the water, as it happened so gradually, until I realized it was very nearly too late to return to shore.

I now have a healthy respect of all bodies of water, and a better understanding of my own limits, and a rational fear of how quickly things can all go south despite my best intentions.

Stay safe out there. Learn the signs of drowning. Watch out for each other, even strangers. The life you may save could even be your own.