An average of 3,536 people are swept into the ocean and drown every year- that’s almost ten people per day. The summer of 2012, I was ten years old and I was at Gearhart Beach for my annual family reunion. Everyone kept marveling over how many sand dollars were at the opposite side of the beach. They spoke about how abundant and how beautiful they were. Obviously, my dad and I went to find them. We found out the dollars were farther into the ocean than we thought. I took off, I couldn’t wait to experience what everyone kept talking about. My dad chased after me and all was fine as we dug for sand dollars along the way, not knowing how deep we were getting. Being 4’6”, I was not prepared to be swept under by the current. I had never experienced that much fear- that much pain- from something so beautiful and fun. I had no idea I would be taken under. My dad who was much taller reached in and pulled me out by my (iconic) “I mustache you a question” t-shirt and, finally, I could breathe again. I tried to hold on to the treasures I found along the way but, ultimately, they were meant to remain in the deep. We went back up to the beach and agreed not to tell mom. I took one last look back to the treacherous waters. How could they have been so beautiful before?

Love acts in this exact same way, pulling you in with the utopian beauty it contains before taking you over completely. You’re lucky if someone older and wiser is there to pull you out. Without them, you have to find a way out yourself. Knowing you are no longer in control of your own feelings, knowing your heart lies in the hands of someone else, and knowing your fate depends on them is terrifying, to say the least. Love can rush in and change everything you’ve ever lived to know and understand, but it can also wash away in an instant. You wonder- was the love even there to start? Did it really wash away or was it never present?  It made you the happiest you’ve ever been only to hurt you in the end. Those ripped apart by heartbreak are left to wallow in pain and confusion. Love is impossible to understand because everyone experiences it differently and that’s okay. It’s okay to love and to be loved and it’s okay to hurt and cry and scream and learn to love again.

The next morning we walked back to the other side of the beach when the tide had gone down. We didn’t have to get near the water- the sand dollars were scattered along the sand- sparkling in the morning light- even more beautiful than they had been beneath the water. The ocean had left me angry and distrusting, but what I came to understand was that the most beautiful parts of people arise from the most painful situations. Just as we saw the sand dollars more beautiful than we could have ever believed, the most beautiful parts of people begin to surface after love is lost and pain is understood.

An average of 3,536 people are swept into the ocean and drown every year- that’s almost ten people per day. I could have been swept under the water that day and never came back, I could have felt the pain and grew in confusion over the fear I did not understand, and I could have lost to the great strength of the current pulling me away. In the same exact way, love could have taken me under and forced me into a pain I never knew existed and not let me go. The hurt experienced by both the ocean and by love lost felt the same. I couldn’t breathe, I shook in confusion, and I was overcome with both anger and devastation. After the hurt, they both resulted in the same hidden beauty one would not expect. One a beauty from deep within the ocean and one a beauty from deep within myself. I am thankful for both.