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Rebecca Laufer

Claudia B. Manley

Writing 2214G 650

March 31, 2017

Snakes and Waterslides

It was on a blistering hot weekend in the summer of 2015, at the top of an abandoned, graffiti-

riddled waterslide in Grimsby, Ontario, that I began to unravel. I was with my two best friends,

whom I hadnt seen for multiple months prior to that weekend, staring out like rulers over our

kingdom at a shining, placid Lake Ontario. I remember an older couple in a bright red canoe

passing through our view at what seemed like miles below our waterslide perch; they were a

tiny, ripple-causing speck in the otherwise sheet-glass water. My friends laughed hysterically as

they waved and danced, carefree and glimmering in the golden rays, for the canoers

entertainment. I was completely and utterly miserable.

When Holly invited Nilu and I to Grimsby, her hometown, a few days prior, my

immediate reaction was to find some excuse for why I couldnt go. Mums birthday is around

that time. Maybe I can say were having a party? That one wouldnt work because my friends

know that we never have birthday parties in my family. I could say I have a job interview, and

that I have to take it because I have no other employment options. That was a dumb idea,

because what employer would possibly hold interviews on a weekend? Maybe Ill just say Im

sick. I had used that excuse the last time. With all my excuses exhausted, I reluctantly told Holly

I would be there.

At the time, I didnt allow myself to realize that the hesitance I felt about spending a

weekend with my friends was indicative of deep personal issues. If I had admitted that, it would
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mean that I would have to tackle the issues, and if I had to tackle the issues, it would mean that

there was something wrong with me that needed fixing. To avoid the truth and the pain it

entailed, I justified my desire for isolation as simply wanting to spend as much time as possible

at home before having to go back to school. It was a weak justification, but still it allowed me to

avoid the truth in peaceful ignoranceuntil it didnt, at least.

We spent the weekend hitting all of Hollys favourite restaurants and cafs, hiking the

best trails, touring Niagara-on-the-Lake, and enjoying homemade sangria while chatting all night

long. For all intents and purposes, it was a perfect weekend. However, I found myself playing a

character I wasnt fully committed to the entire time. I played the joyful best friend, happily

enjoying and appreciating all the events that Holly had planned for us, laughing when one should

laugh and smiling when one should smile. This role was just that though: a role, an act, a

disguise for how I was really feeling. I joked about not having enough money to buy an

expensive latte at each caf we went to, when really I was beating myself up for spending any

money at all because I didnt have a job (despite having gone to eight interviews). I lied about

not being able to drink the sangria wed made together, saying I couldnt drink with the pills I

was taking, when really I thought I didnt need or deserve the extra calories. Its hard to play

such a happy character when every fiber of your being is urging you to be the opposite.

Holly took a video of me that weekend, when the three of us and Hollys brother were

playing Snakes and Ladders after returning from our journey up the waterslide. I watch it back

sometimes; its a reminder that trying to hide who you are or what youre going through never

actually works, and can often make you feel worse. Anyone else watching it would see a tan, thin

girl getting annoyed, jokingly of course, about landing on a snake and having to move her piece

back to the start of the board, then laughing out loud with her friends when she couldnt keep up
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the straight-face act. I see a completely different scene. I see myself at 103 pounds, having lost

32, and remember how extremely self-conscious I still was about my body. I see my hand

constantly reaching up to my wet hair and remember how uneasy I was being seen by anyone

without being perfectly done up. I see myself check my phone three times and remember how I

watched the minutes pass that weekend, and how I wished desperately with each glance at the

time that I would soon be able to retreat back to solitude. I see irony in how, as I slid my piece

down the snake to the beginning of the board, I too was unknowingly sliding down a slippery

slope; from that day, it would take me well over a year to climb back up.

When I look back now, from a perch miles higher than I ever thought I would reach, its

easy to pinpoint that weekend as when I truly began to fall. When I was in it, though, when the

presence of my friends made me angry and upset and when I wanted nothing more than to be

alone with my self-hating thoughts, I felt as though that negative place was where I would

always be. I thought I would always be the girl who barely ate out of a fear of gaining weight

and who spent forty-five minutes in her friends parents shower trying to scrub off sweat, acne,

and ugliness.

Despite sliding far, far down, right back to square one, I am now the girl who just

yesterday made plans with her friends to go back to the abandoned, graffiti-riddled waterslide

where her downward spiral began. When we once again climb the waterslide this coming

summer, Ill find myself in the same place where my fall began. Emotionally, though, Ill be in a

completely different place altogether. This time I know Ill appreciate the view, because I sure as

Hell appreciate how high Ive been able to climb.