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The Week My Daughter Became a Mermaid
My daughter started swimming lessons this week. Not “splash around with dad in the shallow end” swimming - I mean real lessons, with a real teacher, and me banished from the pool deck like a Victorian father pacing the maternity ward.
We’ve been doing weekly pool time for months, but my daughter is fearless in a way only a toddler can be: zero chill, maximum chaos, pure joy. What began as gentle frolicking quickly turned into back-to-back cannonballs off the side like she was auditioning for Jackass: Baby Edition. At some point I had to admit to myself, she’s ready for proper lessons… and I’m clearly the distraction.
So earlier this week, I got ushered into the “viewing room,” which feels like the aquatic version of sitting behind the one-way mirror on Law & Order. She couldn’t see me, but I could see everything; her little arms paddling, her legs kicking, her face shifting between thrill and terror as the teacher guided her along.
And in those 30 minutes, I had two ah-ha moments that hit me harder than the humidity in our building’s indoor pool.
Ah-Ha #1: Were We Raised to Avoid Fear?
Watching her teacher gently push her away from the wall - giving just enough distance to force independence - I suddenly wondered: Did our parents ever give us this kind of space?
I don’t remember my parents being told to disappear during lessons. They hovered. They cheered from five feet away. They were the human version of a security blanket. And their intentions were loving, of course, maybe even corrective. Were they reacting to their own parents’ “sink or swim” style, the generational pendulum swinging as it always does.
But I can’t help asking: did being raised in protection mode accidentally set us up for adult-life organ rejection?
The anxiety.
The perfectionism.
The panic at the thought of making a mistake in public.
You see it in the workplace. You see it in the “refuel anxiety” Gen Z apparently now has about pumping gas; fear of choosing the wrong type, fear of looking foolish, fear of someone recording them for TikTok. Honestly? It tracks. I had a former employee whose anxiety was so omnipresent it felt like she was allergic to being perceived.
It all stems from the same place: a terror of messing up where someone might see.
And aren’t we all guilty of that?
Ah-Ha #2: The Lesson Behind the Lesson
When the session ended, the teacher came out to give me “homework.” Cute, I thought - blowing bubbles in the bathtub. Easy.
Then she showed me something else: how she had made my daughter practice lifting herself out of the pool without help.
“If she ever gets tired and can’t make it to the ladder,” she explained, “she needs to trust she can pull herself up.”
I swear a choir of emotionally intelligent angels started singing.
Because there it was: The metaphor. The lesson. The whole thing.
Am I learning to lift myself out of the pool right now? Was I ever taught this? Or have I (like so many of us) had to teach myself how to pull my own weight when life has shoved me into the deep end?
It’s wild how these tiny childhood skills are actually the whole blueprint for adulthood. Not the ABCs. Not long division. But the quiet knowledge that when you get tired, overwhelmed, or stuck far from the ladder, you can still pull yourself up.
The Deep End of Williamsburg
Fast-forward to last weekend, where I found myself very much in the adult version of the deep end: a gay wedding in Williamsburg.
And not just any gay wedding! I mean a gorgeous, meticulously curated, “Dress to Express” extravaganza with 125 guests, 90% of them gay, and at least half of those from LA.
Let’s be real: gay weddings operate on a simple formula: 50% love, 50% sheer aesthetic excellence.
And if you’re not familiar with LA gays, imagine: Stylish, serum-forward, sun-kissed, and knows their angles, their macros, their martinis, and their microdosed mushroom gummies.
I walked in both nights feeling like my internal engine had stalled at the door. Which is odd, because I’m usually pretty good at social situations. I can strike up a conversation with a rescue dog, a drag queen, an investment banker, or a Trader Joe’s cashier with equal enthusiasm.
But both nights, I froze. I felt judged. Small. Weirdly fragile. Like everyone else had gotten a handbook I didn’t.
It was my own little “refuel anxiety” moment, except instead of pumping gas, it was pumping confidence.
And maybe this is the moment where I should tell you: I don’t drink.
No trauma. No recovery story. I just don’t enjoy alcohol. But Saturday night, halfway through the reception, I caved and had drinks because I needed the social lubricant. I needed the courage. I needed something to pull me out of the pool because I clearly couldn’t find the ladder.
And here’s what happened: the second I loosened up and actually talked to people, I realized every single person I met was lovely. Interesting. Warm. Human. No one was judging me.
Which made me wonder: Had I spent the entire first night drowning in a pool of my own creation?
We’re All Just Pulling Ourselves Out of Something
At one point during a toast, I leaned back in my chair, looked around the room, and thought:
How many people here feel exactly the same way I do and just hide it better?
Because aren’t we all wrestling with something? A fear. A doubt. A moment that makes us feel unsteady.
We’re all learning to pull ourselves out of the pool, whether it’s social anxiety at a Brooklyn wedding, the first weeks of a new job, navigating parenthood, or finding our footing after a life shakeup.
Some of us learned early.
Some of us learned the hard way.
Some of us are learning now, mid-stroke, arms burning, praying the edge is close.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe we’re meant to be both the student and the teacher - for ourselves, for our kids, for each other - passing along the skills we didn’t always get in time.
And maybe the only way out is the same as it’s always been:
Kick. Breathe. Pull yourself up.
And trust you’re stronger than you remember.
Fraction & Fiction
The weekly section where I will call out a fraction: something that felt like progress this week (like a fraction forward) and a fiction: something that turned out to be a distraction or illusion.
🎯 Fraction: Wicked: For Good. This week, our neighborhood quietly transformed into Oz - all emerald greens and bubblegum pinks - as Lincoln Center prepped for the Wicked premiere. Watching it happen felt like my own little fraction forward.
There’s something comforting about a Thanksgiving blockbuster you can show up to in sweats, armed with popcorn and zero expectations except to be emotionally rearranged by a witch with flawless eyeliner. Maybe it’s the season, or maybe it’s this chapter of life, but I’m starting to appreciate anything that invites us to sit still, breathe, and let ourselves be carried — the opposite of those moments where we’re clawing our way out of the metaphorical pool.
Honestly… A good movie before an avalanche of turkey, casseroles, and pie feels like a tiny act of self-preservation. A reminder that joy counts as progress, too.
🎭 Fiction: Word on the street is that MTV is circling the drain — losing money, drowning in B-list reality TV (RuPaul remains the lone life raft), and long past the era of actual music videos. People are acting like we should be preparing final words for an old friend. But I’m not convinced. If this week taught me anything, it’s that things - and people - have a sneaky way of pulling themselves up when you least expect it. Even when they look like they’re sinking.
Call me delusional, but I think MTV survives 2026. And who knows… it might even find its way back to music videos. Stranger things have resurfaced.
File Under: Is This It?
A quick round-up of clips, headlines or stories, and cultural crumbs that made me pause and ask… is this it?
🧀 Hollywood’s Cheesiest New Talent
Parmigiano Reggiano has officially signed with UTA for film and TV placements. At this point, even cheese has better representation than half of us… and honestly, good for her..
🏹 Target Still Searching for Its Footing
Target reported another rough quarter, and investors are getting antsy. Proof that even the biggest, most beloved players hit seasons where nothing feels stable… and you just hope the next aisle has answers.
🖼️ A Klimt That Broke the Bank
Gustav Klimt’s Lady with a Fan sold for a staggering $236.4 million, making it the most expensive modern artwork ever. Even in chaotic times, beauty has a way of holding its value - sometimes more than we do.
🎄 A Family Stone Sequel No One Asked For
A follow-up to the 2005 holiday classic is coming… obviously without Diane Keaton. As much as I adore SJP, this has the same energy as season three of And Just Like That: some things are sacred, and maybe we don’t need to revisit every piece of nostalgia just because we can.
🤝 Sports Partnerships Keep Winning
Bank of America tapped David Beckham for a global partnership, and the Warriors teamed up with Sephora. A reminder that in uncertain times, the smartest move is often finding someone (or some brand) strong enough to link arms with.
Pass It On
If this week’s Is This It? made a splash with you (or even just a ripple), send it to three friends who might be navigating their own choppy waters. And if you want to show some love, drop a like ❤️, leave a comment 💬, or use the social share links at the top. Because the only thing better than staying afloat is realizing you’re not the only one kicking.
Until Next Friday,
Chris
P.S. If only social situations came with a little backup the way Lindy shows up for your workflow. Consider this your invitation to let something else do the heavy lifting for once.
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