Lifeguarding, Courage, and Rediscovery After Divorce

From heartbreak to hope: It’s never too late to chase our dreams — especially when life knocks us down.

“What are you thinking?”

The disapproval in his voice was unmistakable; it was judgment — not a question.

I wasn’t sure how to respond, and a long awkward silence followed.

He finally said, “That’s for people who are young — and you’re not.”

Gulp.

My husband had inadvertently found out about my plan to take the lifeguard certification course.

It wasn’t like being in my forties hadn’t crossed my mind a few hundred times. Of course I’m well aware of my age, societal expectations, and norms — who could forget?

I’ve been raising babies for more of my adult life than not. Our divorce hadn’t been in my plans. I never thought our twenty-two-year marriage would actually end. After all, with nine children, there was much to fight for.

I’d already endured the worst of his mid-life crisis. I thought we were in our marriage for the long haul. But then I learned of his infidelity and spending sprees. Realizations flooded me — one after the next.

I couldn’t believe how much I’d tolerated throughout the years.

So, I made a decision and promise to myself. He no longer deserved my unconditional loyalty and love.

It was time to also start living for myself.

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
— Mary Ann Evans

Over the next few days, his disapproving words replayed in my mind. And as much as I resisted, I started wavering and contemplated calling it quits.

But that’s what the old me would have done. And my new theme was transformation.

Obtaining lifeguard certification wasn’t a final destination. It’s a credential for the somewhat-crafted design I’m weaving toward bigger-picture goals.

I’ve never been a lifeguard. Or a swimmer, other than recreationally. And I know women in their forties aren’t lining up for this certification. Though seemingly small, it was one of the steps toward the future I envisioned.

So, I ended up taking the course. The three-day-long event included lectures, water immersion exercises, CPR, and testing. I had no idea how much went into becoming a lifeguard.

It’s not easy.

The prerequisite requires a nonstop 300-yard swim. And then treading water for 2 minutes without using your hands. Next, you have to dive nine feet (without goggles) for a ten-pound brick lying somewhere at the bottom of the pool. And finally, swim the length of the pool while holding that brick on your chest — in under one minute and forty seconds.

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I’d always wanted to be a swimmer, but the lap pool was intimidating. I had no idea how to swim and breathe with my face in the water.

And the swimsuits swimmers wear — they’re so unforgiving.

But I’d decided enough with my insecurities.

So, I finally worked up the courage and joined a Master’s swim team in the gym. It started at 5:30 am. It took everything I had to show up in my barely-there suit and cap.

There were a lot of competitive swimmers there — people that grew up doing swim team. And they were fast.

Either way, I showed the instructor my first lap — swimming with my head above water. I tried pretending I knew what was going on. He was gracious but said we had some work to do.

Indeed.

Thankfully two women swimmers took pity on me. They taught me how to swim with my head submerged while swimming. They were so welcoming; it made all the difference. We’re still friends to this day.

After a few months, I took it to the next level and signed up for coaching. I learned the correct forms and strokes. It’s now a much-loved part of my routine and life.

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That’s when I had the idea to become a swim instructor in my spare time. While going through the divorce. His affairs. And somehow trying to put my life back together.

I thought it might fit in nicely with my other goals. I love kids and swimming; it sounded perfect.

The only thing — I needed to become a lifeguard to qualify.

And so it began.

After passing that daunting prerequisite of the lifeguard course, I was overwhelmed with emotion. It was a long first day that went well into the late evening, but I’d made it through.

Driving home, the only thing on my mind was a hot shower and crawling under the blankets. Once home, I grabbed the mail from the entryway table and started upstairs.

That’s when I noticed the envelope from my husband’s new credit card company. Though still married, he no longer lived in our home, so I’d send him pictures of his mail. We still hadn’t untangled our lives.

Though I’d already filed divorce papers, it wasn’t moving forward. I wanted the divorce — I was done. But severing our tie wasn’t on his priority list. I had no idea how difficult and long divorce could be without cooperation.

So, there I stood, holding the envelope in my hand. Of course, the wise-minded part of me knew better than to open it. I didn’t want to know how he was spending money. But curiosity got the best of me.

Seeing the details of what your husband’s spending on other women may be helpful for court, but that’s about it.

The sting is raw and deep. I knew what he was doing but imagining and seeing are vastly different. I still couldn’t grasp the reality of his betrayal.

But I needed to let it go.

“We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.”

– Marianne Williamson

I set the alarm for 5:30 am and went to bed, though sleep was hard to find.

The next day, I attended day two of the course — red-eyed and puffy, though presenting an eager mind and smile. Pushing away unwanted images and ruminating thoughts wasn’t easy, but I gave it everything I had.

It was a full day and evening in the water. Our groups practiced every possible drowning scenario in deep and shallow water — we performed CPR on the pool deck. We needed to learn all the rescues as they could test on any of them.

I went to bed that evening questioning why I was putting myself through this. The average age of most of the people testing in our group was seventeen.

Did I even belong here? Was he right?

It was hard not to compare myself to the teens. My stroke and speed looked awkward compared to their effortless glides. Not to mention how they — and I, looked in my swimsuit.

But I reminded myself of my why and gripped onto that.

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The third day — a full day of more scenarios came fast. Our final testing would wrap up the evening.

My instructor had asked me more than once if I was okay. Which meant I wasn’t hiding my emotions as well as I’d thought. I was still rattled by the credit card statement, even though I kept pushing it aside.

Things were moving along well for the most part. I’d managed to pass and complete everything up to this point. I was nervous about a few of the deepwater rescue attempts. Remembering which direction to face, which hold, and which way to jump in. CPR seemed straightforward.

So, when it came time for our final testing, I felt nervous yet somewhat confident. We’d be tested on water rescues, CPR, and a take a written test.

The first was in the water — a deep dive and rescue. I passed. My confidence was building.

The CPR portion came next. The instructor set the scene and told me what was wrong with the victim. I remembered that specific scenario from our practice. I did all the required steps — it was easier than I thought.

The hardest part seemed behind me.

We were all lined up waiting, and my instructor pulled me aside to talk to me. The room went silent, all eyes watching. She informed me my hands were too high on the chest when I was doing compressions, so I wouldn’t be moving on.

Not even close to what I was expecting to hear.

I want to say I walked out of the building with my head high and pride intact, but that wouldn’t be truthful.

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I’d put everything I had into passing the course. The importance of this certification was far more than the credential. It meant moving forward — not giving in.

It felt like the failures kept compounding. My marriage. The affair. Our family. And now this. My husband’s words came back fast and hard — incapability settled in.

I learned the instructor was supposed to have given me another attempt to pass the CPR portion. It didn’t matter.

I didn’t want it.

In the days following, I binge-watched 911. I watched firefighters perform CPR and picked up on a mistake they’d made. The actor was rescuing a drowning victim and didn’t give two breaths before performing compressions on their chest. I saw the error immediately.

I should have passed.

I sulked and overindulged in comfort foods. I ate chocolate until I couldn’t. I tried justifying giving up this crazy pursuit.

My reality weighed me down. But, I’ve navigated tough situations before, and I knew deep down I could overcome this. And if I wanted change, I knew I needed to take action.

“There will be obstacles. There will be doubters. There will be mistakes. But with hard work, there are no limits.”

– Michael Phelps

I realized all was not lost. I knew my attitude played a significant role. I couldn’t quit — surrender was no longer an option. So, after battling my resistance and pride, I signed up to retake the lifeguard course.

I had to redo everything. And join a whole new group of seventeenish soon-to-be lifeguards.

But this time, I passed.

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It’s never too late to chase after dreams — especially when life knocks us down. When life throws the unexpected, the only control we have is our response. And that response is what differentiates success and failure.

Granted, most people in their forties aren’t taking lifeguard certifications, but I figure that’s okay. Stepping off ledges and deviating from the norm is often what creates the essential difference.

Lifeguard certification was an incredible lesson on many levels. Rediscovery is a beautiful thing. Once I found the courage and made the choice that his expectations would not define me, life began moving forward.

So, “What am I thinking?”

Exactly what I should be thinking.

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Have you faced similar life challenges? Share your story in the comments below. I'd love to hear from you.