How to show up for your friends and why genuine support doesn’t require perfect expertise — just the courage to get in the water with them.
I can’t swim. Despite understanding the mechanics theoretically, the only direction I’ve ever gone is down.
My childhood swimming instructor, dumbfounded by my natural ability to sink, proclaimed I “wasn’t meant for the water.” For years, I wore this story like a badge of my limitations.
But something shifted when I realized that my relationship with water wasn't just about swimming—it was about presence.
Despite my own inability to swim, I found myself drawn to the poolside, understanding that sometimes what people need isn't an expert to teach them perfect form, but a companion willing to stay close as they navigate the deep end. Someone to remind them that touching bottom isn't failure; it's just part of learning to trust the water.
Now, when I see others struggling to stay afloat, I don't just stand at the edge—I join them in the water.
You see, in moments of crisis, there are two types of people: those who stand at the edge making suggestions, and those who jump in beside you.
The Edge-Dwellers and the Deep-Enders
The edge-dwellers have their reasons; they get caught in a thought-loop, worrying about what will be expected of them and fear that a moment of support might turn into an endless obligation.
They fear the risk of responsibility, imagining themselves as a lifeguard trying to save a panicking swimmer who could pull them both under.
Sometimes, they’re just not ready to face the water themselves — their own unresolved struggles, fear, and inadequacies keeping them safely on dry land.
I understand their hesitation.
I can easily recognize when someone is struggling in the deep end. After all, I know what it feels like to be the one frantically trying to stay afloat, hoping that someone will recognize my need.
When you’ve spent your entire life aware that you could drown, the idea of supporting someone else in deep water may seem absurd.
But I’ve learned that offering support isn’t about being the strongest swimmer or having perfect technique; it’s about being willing to get wet and getting in the water.
To add complexity to an already precarious situation for the person in the water, you need to know who’s willing to jump in with you.
I learned this the hard way while growing up. I expected everyone who said, “I’m here for you,” to actually show up when the waters got rough. Some did, but many didn’t. That’s when I started paying attention to patterns instead of promises.
Proximity Shelves
Years ago, I began organizing relationships on what I call my “proximity shelves,” my mental inventory of who is within reach when I need emotional support or someone to join me for a social event.
People are placed on shelves like precious books in a well-used library. Some shift to eye level, always within grasp when you need a lifeline. Others drift to the shelves just out of reach but still present. A few are boxed away in the attic, gathering dust.
The arrangement isn’t static; relationships require regular reorganizing, reassessing who shows up consistently, who’s there for late-night conversations, who appears during emergencies, who’s best kept at a distance.
Maintaining these shelves — this careful cataloging of connections — has taught me that calling someone a friend is more than identifying a noun. Friendship is a verb, one that requires effort, presence, and a level of ambition we typically reserve for work and family.
It’s about showing up for each other through joy and struggle, keeping people in mind despite changing priorities and constant distraction. It’s not just about where you place people, but how often you reach for them, how willing you are to climb to the higher shelves when needed.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can offer a friend who is struggling is the willingness to get in the water with them, to say “I may not know how to fix this, but you won’t face it alone.”
No Lifeguard on Duty
Real connection requires the courage to be present when it’s neither comfortable nor convenient. It requires us to move beyond surface-level concern to genuine curiosity about someone’s life, their struggles, and their fears.
What I’ve discovered is that being present in someone else’s struggles doesn’t require you to be a perfect swimmer yourself.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can offer is the willingness to get wet together, to say, “I may not know how to fix this, but you won’t face these waters alone.”
As a coach, my role isn’t to teach you perfect strokes or rescue you from drowning.
I’m here because I’ve learned to navigate these waters — not as an expert swimmer, but as someone who understands both the fear and the possibilities that lie beneath the surface.
I’m here to get in the water with you, to be present with your uncertainty and fear, and to witness your growth without attempting to fix or direct it.
A Non-Swimmer’s Guide to Getting in the Water
Here’s what I’ve learned about showing up for friends.
Start at the Shallow End: Don’t wait for a crisis to practice showing up. Begin with Small Moments: Initiate regular meetups, respond when they reach out, notice when they mention a tough day. Use your calendar to track important events in their lives. These small but consistent actions show who’s willing to get wet together — whether by wading in first or joining when invited.
Accept Your Limitations: Don’t let your own limitations prevent you from offering support. You don’t need to be a perfect swimmer (or friend) to help. That might not be what they’re needing. Sometimes showing up and saying “I don’t know what to do, but I’m here” is more valuable than trying to solve everything or avoiding them altogether.
Check the Temperature: Before diving into deep conversations, you’ll want to know what you’re jumping into. Diving in head first, thinking you know what to expect, might not work out for the better. Lead with curiosity and ask questions to gauge their comfort level. You can even ask them how they’d like you to show up or what would be helpful.
Bring Your Floaties: Set boundaries that keep both of you safe. You can be supportive without drowning in someone else’s struggles. You might be going through your own challenges and not able to show up in the ways they need. Be clear about what kind of support you can and cannot offer.
Regular Maintenance Matters: Relationships evolve and need to be assessed, just like reorganizing my proximity shelves. Sometimes, friends drift apart. You might need more than they are capable of offering, or they might not be able to tolerate your needs. When you recognize that the relationship has reached this inflection point, be intentional and decide whether to reach out to pull them closer or let them drift.
See You at the Deep End
The truth is, we’re all standing at the edge sometimes, and we’re all in deep water at others.
What matters isn’t our swimming ability, but our willingness to acknowledge both positions — to remember how it feels to hesitate at the edge, even as we learn to be the person who jumps in.
I may never be a strong swimmer, but I’ve learned that the most meaningful connections happen when we stop waiting for perfect conditions and simply get in the water together.
Because even the deepest waters feel less daunting when we’re willing to face them side by side.
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This piece was written with support from LEX AI, integrating core themes, concepts, and frameworks originally defined by the author.
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