Iceberg Essay: The Mysteries Below the Surface

My feet are grounded to the moss-covered rocky pathway. The cold air whips my face, and the white Arctic light reflects off the water below. In front of me, lie majestic icebergs, each one powerful, beautifully stark, and unique.  While some icebergs are wide and rounded, others have jagged edges and reach twenty stories high. And yet, we can only see what lies above the surface of these powerful icebergs. The mass of ice that remains below the surface of the cerulean Greenlandic waters remains a mystery. I have grown up hearing about the “iceberg metaphor”; how the top is clearly visible, yet the farther you move below the waterline, the less you know. And so, in the summer of 2013 I found myself in Ilulissat, on the rocky coast of western Greenland, gazing at icebergs and thinking about the part of me beneath the surface that no one could see.  

My shiny, glistening cover was what others saw of me, but I knew that beneath that white facade lay the depths of my iceberg. As my fingers and nose protested against the bitter August breeze racing down from the north, I heard a thundering gun-shot crack pierce the air. Right in front of me, I saw a massive block of ice fracture and flip over. It shuddered and settled back and forth, small waves rippling off the shaking piece of ice and into the inky sea, and then 100,000 tons heaved and flipped over. I was able to see what lay beneath; what it looked like on the other side. I experienced the flipping of an iceberg. This is not something I thought I would ever see. Then again I find myself surrounded by many situations and issues I would not expect myself, a 15-year-old girl, to be dealing with. The iceberg brought me to a cold and clear realization. I was able to see how different and unexpected the underside of this huge piece of ice was, something I would never be able to assume without seeing it with my own eyes. I trembled at the crack that was echoing within me.

I too have an underside to my iceberg. On the surface people see a confident and put together person, something I do find to be true, but nobody, not even my beloved parents, knew that as far back as eighth grade, I was struggling deeply with self-harm and thoughts of depression.  The underside of my iceberg began to surface; the first ripples began briefly and horribly in eighth grade, when I began cutting myself. My entry into this world was subtle and infrequent, but then my actions grew to be insistent and scary by my freshman year. In times of darkness, I would pick up a sharp edge and brutally cut my skin, leaving marks from these attacks. There appeared no connection to the person I was. I am a very positive person. I love the things life presents me:  the late- afternoon golden glowing light that is reflected off the buildings along Congress Street, bundling up for cold, beautiful ocean walks with my family, and connecting with Portland’s community of passionate artists and musicians. I try to leap into any new situation presented to me, because I feel I always benefit from the experience. In these darker times though, it felt like a gray veil had been placed over my eyes, like a lens shading the world into a darker and more negative place. It was frightening to not always see the good in life. I could feel the shifts under the surface of my iceberg.

I remember distinctly sitting in a doctor’s office with my arm exposed. I was filled with fear and anticipation that the nurse would question me, or discover the underside of my iceberg. In the 15 minutes I was in the doctor’s office, I had to roll up my sleeves, completely display my scarred arm, receive my shot, then roll my sleeves back down. I felt shock, and then a feeling of rage when the nurse simply gave me my TB shot without noticing the red slashes on my arm that I had just inflicted the night before. I left with not one word mentioned about where these red markings came from. A health care worker’s eyes physically were staring at a girl who so obviously was dealing with something so hard, and they didn’t even acknowledge it.

Although I told myself I didn’t want anyone to notice, I now know I wanted more than anything for someone to hold me and help me because I was scared for my life. This feeling of hopelessness filled me.  I felt like screaming “You have just stared at my scarred arms and yet you say nothing!! Am I that useless?” When people did notice my arms, I would say I had a mishap with a thorny bush. People so easily believed me and didn’t question my lies. It is amazing how people generally accept the simplest explanation.

Everyone fell for these cover stories except for one special individual: Iris, someone who was struggling equally with the depths of her own iceberg. After she figured me out, she was my constant support, she was my rock. We were always there for each other with every struggle we were dealing with. Looking back, I think we spent too much time caring for each other, and not enough time reflecting on ourselves.

Iris was the only person to whom I revealed what was under my iceberg. She still looked at me as a confident, well put together person, but she knew this other tormented side as well; the cracks and crevices on the underside of my iceberg. She never once faltered in being there for me. I can confidently say that our freshman year was not quite typical. People in our community never knew; they only saw what lay above the waterline. Just as I viewed the beautiful, powerful majestic icebergs that stood tall in the Arctic Sea, people viewed Iris and myself as confident well put together individuals, which were just the tip of our icebergs. Though we both went through a great deal of hardship, were able to give each other constant support. We reminded each other every day that we were loved and had purpose here.

Once at crew practice someone looked at my arm and said jokingly, “Julia, it looks like you cut.” This person found it necessary to say this in front of the entire crew team, and loud enough for just about everyone to hear her and look at me. She said it in a way that sounded like ‘obviously you aren’t cutting, but it looks like you do’. If people can just stop for one moment and think that ‘wow, maybe this person has another story behind that beautiful smile,’ just maybe they would realize how needed they really are in this big crazy world. To have one person be there for you, with genuine support, makes a huge difference. I feel very lucky to have had Iris as my best friend, my personal therapist and my life saver.  It would be amazing if we could all be happy all the time, but unfortunately this isn’t reality. Everyone has their own personal struggles that they go through, we all have undersides to our icebergs. Whether it’s struggling with a bad day, or a deeper depression, these are all things that can physically and emotionally upset us.  But as low as one might feel, no one should ever feel the need to take their own life.

I am so grateful to have had Iris dive deep under my iceberg and to have brought some of my issues to the surface. I know now that Iris’s iceberg was obviously deeper than I ever knew. I wish I could for one moment go back and expose what drove her to her death, and to help her abolish it before she was taken over by this monster. I would do anything to tell her one more time how beautiful, intelligent, strong and amazing she was, because this is what she told me every day. Iris helped me with how to view this crazy world; to find the simple beauties it presents to us, and to find humor in everyday events. I will forever cherish these memories. With Iris’s death, I have also learned the impact that suicide has had on our community. With her death has come the realization that I will never again cause physical harm to myself. There is beauty even below an iceberg. And when it flips we can even surprise ourselves and marvel at the dazzling potential and happiness of life.