Love Birds

It isn’t just the love of swimming. We love each other. Birds of a feather flock together.

I love my Swimming Family. My Seabird Flock. My Salty Sisterhood. Swimming with the Salty Seabirds is a true love story.

 

Richard Curtis reminded us all that, ‘Love Actually’ is all around us. Love comes in many guises and sizes. On a regular basis, I #sharetheswimlove with an eclectic bunch of (mainly) women, in the sea, off Brighton and Hove’s beaches. It ain’t all hearts and roses all of the time and not everyone in the group is my post swim cup of tea. But there is a lot of love.

We are bonded together by our love of the sea. At times, it can be a romantic love, a passionate love, a familial love. It’s not the romantic love you share with a partner or the unconditional love that you have for your family but it is still the type of love that can feel like butterflies in your stomach. There is no physical attraction, instead a strong connection, but it can make your heart sing all the same.

I have experienced and witnessed the love of friendship as kindness, trust and companionship within our salty community. You may not know the name of the swimmer that held your hand and helped you into the sea. Or the name of the swimmer who gave you a pair of gloves when they could see your hands were turning blue. Or the name of the swimmer that shared their hot drink with you when you forgot yours. But in that moment they showed you the love of friendship. When someone wants the best for you, when you are comfortable and happy around them, they are your friends.

I sometimes refer to the Seabirds as my swimming family or the salty sisterhood. Like conventional families we have a strong bond and a mutual love for one another and swimming in the sea. As is the case with your closest loved ones, you wish to spend time with them and share a special connection. It is not the blood in our veins that bonds us, but the salt on our skin. Your family are people that are always there for you and have a positive influence on your life. This is acutely apparent in our group.

We recently swam under the starling mumurations during our Snow Moon swim. It was incredible. Watching nature’s mass ariel stunt show from the best seat in the house, in the sea, floating on your back, was quite possibly the best swim of my life. They move in unison creating patterns and shapes that change in an instant. No-one is really sure why they do it but there are theories.  One is that they come together as there is safety in numbers and their mumurations confuse potential predators. Another theory is that they gather together as dusk for warmth and to exchange information before roosting. A bunch of birds that don’t know each other coming together for the good of the group. Now where have I come across that before? Over the last 18 months I have watched in wonder at our group’s capacity to love. A fierce protective love of the group and a kind and supportive love of individuals. We are swimming starlings.

It isn’t just that we share a love for the sea, we share a love for each other. I see so often a seabird scooped up by the group when they have needed to be held and helped. Our group is only 18 months young so the friendships that have been forged are still in their infancy yet, cemented in the sea, they are strong. Single salties spending Christmas day together. Seabirds looking after each others dogs and children so they can work or have a restorative swim. Sharing experiences of bereavement and finding comfort in each others stories. Providing shoulders to cry on or a welcome distraction. Answering calls to arms to raise money or awareness for causes close to swimmers hearts. We accommodate, we adapt, we go the extra mile for swimmers we hardly know. Birds of a feather, flock together. What is that, if that is not love?

Author: Seabird Kath

Starling Photo Credit: Michael Knight

 

Self Love this Valentines Day

Guest Blog by Salty Seabird Claudine and embracing Self Love this Valentaines

Guest Blog by Seabird Claudine.

“Wow, she really loves herself.” It was a serious insult to others when I was growing up.  Conceited, cocky, arrogant.  Probably an offensive slur I had thrown at me at times, when the brash exterior self I showed to the world belied the insecure reality underneath.  “Self-love” was certainly not something I was striving to achieve.  I thought it was a bad thing.  It seemed better to be self-loathing, self-deprecating, self-conscious – all whilst being bubbly and confident, but not too confident, or else you loved yourself.  See the conundrum here?

That was back then.  Over the years, with all the personal development I’ve done, it slowly dawned on me that loving myself wasn’t an act of arrogance and it didn’t mean I thought I was better than everyone else. I realised that self-love was not only acceptable, but maybe even preferable for my mental and emotional wellbeing.
In 2017 I discovered the body image movement, when a friend suggested going to a screening of Embrace, that’s when it really struck me as more than “OK” to have self-acceptance. After a lifetime of dieting, striving for a smaller body, putting things on hold until I’d just reached that next size down, lost those last few pounds, hoping then I would feel more comfortable in my skin, I discovered it didn’t have to be that way.
The content of the documentary about positive body image hit me like a ton of bricks; a ton of bricks I didn’t have to diet-away.  I heard messages I’d never considered, and had a number of genuine light-bulb moments whilst watching the film, as well as some tears at the sadness of the time wasted on diet culture and self-criticism.  We can take for granted that we need to be slender to be attractive, have curves in the right places and not the wrong ones, and that the only way to be healthy is to be slim.  That our skin can’t show the signs of ageing, wrinkles or cellulite, and god forbid we have hair anywhere but on our heads!  We are told from a young age we must strive for the ideal of beauty that we see everywhere, but these days, that ideal is fake.  Big lips, bums and boobs, small waist, ankles and arms.  Photo-shopped, botoxed, filtered, surgeried, dieted, obsessively exercised, waxed, shaved, sat with a make-up artist and hair stylist for hours.  We can’t look like that and it’s not just young women thinking they can and should.

The beauty industry has told us we have flaws so they can sell us creams, exercise plans, diets, pills and even lollipops to fix them; and we fall for it, making them billions of pounds.  Restrictive eating is a slippery slope to eating disorders.  Living our lives striving to be smaller, fitter, smoother, creates a perfect breeding ground for anxiety and depression.  And putting our life on hold and waiting to feel happy when we’ve made that final change that definitely will be the last one, is a recipe for living an unfulfilled life.

I listened recently with sadness to a radio story about a mum whose daughter had stolen her credit card to get botox, fillers and even surgery to improve her looks at 16 years old, and her parents found out the night before she was booked in for a nose job.  The daughter begged her parents to let her go ahead with it, and they eventually agreed, as she was absolutely convinced that the surgery would sort her out, solve her problems, and make her feel good.  And it did: for a few days.  Her problems weren’t physical, they weren’t about the bump on her nose but she had been brainwashed to believe they were, and they’d be fixed by the surgeon’s knife.
What if we started to really believe beauty comes in all forms?  Because it truly does.
What if we saw getting old as something to be celebrated as not everyone gets to do so?  We should welcome each wrinkle as it shows another laugh we shared with loved ones.
What if we learned to value people for more than their looks?  We should realise that we are so much more than the shell that carries us around.
What if we stopped assuming we can tell how healthy someone is just by looking at them?  We should know that thin people get ill, so do fat people, and fat people get ill, and can be healthy.  Also, that people aren’t worth less even if they are unhealthy.
What if we weren’t glorifying obesity by being body positive, but recognising that the mental health crisis we have in society could be somewhat eased if we took this beauty burden off our shoulders.  We would still take care of ourselves, we would move our bodies for fun and to make them stronger.  What if we worked with girls from a young age to believe this, to value and take care of themselves and see beauty inside themselves and others regardless of the outer casing?


I have totally changed my attitude towards exercise.  I do the kind I like as there isn’t only one way of being fit and strong.  I don’t have to force myself to run when I hate it.  I don’t have a marathon in me, or a half, or even any more 10k’s, but I can swim 4km and can yoga like a yogi.  I don’t always do as much exercise as I’d like, but I don’t beat myself up when I don’t, then turn to the biscuit tin because, “well, what’s the point now?”
Since seeing the film, I have felt so much more comfortable in my skin.  The road to self-love, of which a positive body image is just one part, is a journey, and body neutrality is on the way.  For some, that’s where they will get off the train and where they’ll stay, and that’s good enough.  Feeling neutrally towards one’s body is far better than loathing it, and it will give you so much more freedom.
Since seeing the film I discovered outdoor swimming, now in my second winter, and this helped on my body image journey.  It’s pointless worrying about how I look when I’m trying to get dressed and it’s blowing a gale.  I’ve come to respect my body for what it can do, that not everyone’s can, such as walking into 4 degree water and having a swim.  I truly believe this body is worthy, I value my health and wellness, and at times even love it.  There, I’ve said it, some days I love myself, and whilst my 14 year old self still cringes a little inside, my 43 year old self knows that’s OK.  So this Valentine’s day, if you haven’t already tried saying it to yourself, go on, have a go.  You might even believe it.

I hope you can join us for our next screening of Embrace: 13th Feb, 7.30 at the Walrus pub in Brighton.  Tickets on Eventbrite, here:  https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/embrace-the-documentary-hove-tickets-90587253915

claudine8

Meet The Flockers; A Salty Seabird Introduction

Introducing a new series of blogs focusing on individual Salty Seabirds, providing an insight into their sea swimming story.

Welcome to Pass the Salt Seabird Blog’s newest addition. Meet the Flockers is a series of blogs that focuses on a different Salty Seabird each month.

One of the best things (and there are lots of best things) about being a Salty Seabird is, you never know who you are going to end up swimming with. We arrive at the beach in dribs and drabs and then faff, swim and chat to whoever happens to be there. The things we hardly share with each other are our names and occupations. In that moment the person faffing, swimming or chatting next to you is your companion, your confidant, your compeer. And we require no more than that.

What binds us together and keeps us coming back for more is a shared love of the sea and the beach and the positive impact it has on our individual and collective wellbeing. We don’t know why our fellow Salties swim in the sea and we don’t pry. That is until now. We are putting together a series of blogs to introduce you to some of our fellow swimmers and bring ‘Salted Wellbeing’ away from the beach and into our homes.

If you would like to feature as a ‘flocker’ do get in touch. It will involve no more than an hour of your time, some honest dialogue over a hot brew (preferably post swim) and a donation of a couple of your favourite swim smile images to accompany your story. As our flock continues to grow we have found that other swimmers benefit from hearing (read reading) the stories behind the swim smiles. So much can resonate and adds to the feeling of belonging. It is a way to #sharetheswimlove

In the past, we have been lucky enough to be gifted with some wonderful guest blogs written buy our swimming flock. Here are the links to them all. So this weekend click on the links and get to know some of your fellow sea swimmers and consider becoming a flocker!

Kim – A Cold Water Love Affair

Amy – Finding My Inner Mermaid

Sally – How to Surf the Urge

Didi – For the Love of Swimming

Charlotte – Marine Life

Rowena – The Cure for Anything is Salt Water

Anne – A Birds Eye View

Lorraine – A Seabird Song

Claudine – January doesn’t have to be Blue

Eloise – Mama and the Sea

Mama and the Sea!

Guest Blog by Salty Seabird Eloise.

Why I swim in the sea in winter? Several people have asked me to write more but I never have because it feels a little vulnerable. I write Facebook posts sharing windows into my life and I get such a warm response so I thought, fuck it. Here we are.

I would take my daughter, Odetta, down to the sea every evening just to kill that awful hour at 4pm when it’s too early to feed the beast and too late to take her anywhere in public without her having an exhaustion meltdown. Just as the sun would be setting I’d put so many layers on her that she would resemble a burst couch, tufts of wild blonde hair sprouting from her thick wool hat. The hat itself was way too big and would end up resting on those big pink cheeks she inherited from me. I would stop at Costa and get us hot chocolates to warm our hands as we made our way down to that beautiful blue. Sometimes when I walk with her hand in mine I have to pause to take in the fact I created this little wildling and those hands still seem so tiny in mine.

I started this ritual of going to the beach every evening when she was about 6 months old. Why? because being a single mum sucks sometimes. Winter nights start so early and once that baby is down I was sat in a small basement flat in Hove on my own. Those moments down the beach were a haven to me. Other families would be catching the last of the sun too and there was so much laughter and joy. Sometimes my heart would ache a little as my family didn’t work out how I wanted it too and I didn’t have that person to share the joy of my girl with, but I did my best to stay present in that moment and not get lost in the “What ifs”. That was relatively easy to do as more often then not I would be wrestling stones out of Odetta’s mouth or convincing her that licking old seaweed isn’t the best idea.

One day on our way back from the beach when the little rat bag was lying on the floor refusing to move, I saw two women about to get into that freezing cold sea, dressed just in swimming costumes and bright swim caps. In that moment, when I was so engrossed in my motherhood journey, bribing my child with every snack I could find at the bottom of my bag, exhausted, close to tears, I imagined myself stepping into that water and it gave me a moment of freedom. I felt an energy burst inside of me and I made a promise to find someone who would be mad enough to swim with me.

Turns out that I didn’t have any friends crazy enough. Then someone told me of a swim group called the Salty Seabirds. I joined the Facebook group and saw posts from women all over Brighton and Hove organising different times to meet. Informal, you just show up in whatever state you are in and swim. So on the 10th of Feb I took my pale arse down to the sea, flask in my bag, wrapped in a big jumper and scarf.

The weekends are my weakness, as I hear they are for a lot of single mothers. I would message all of my friends to see who we could tag along with but they would be having family time with their partners who worked during the week (selfish bitches) Which is understandable (it’s not) so often those two days felt the loneliest. Sometimes I’d just wait and see who got sick of their partners first or wait for one of them to have a row (kind of a joke. kind of) but mostly I’d have to just get on with it. Then swimming entered my life and I could bribe a grandparent to have Odie or sometimes she would tag a long with me and moan the entire time about how much she hates everything that’s nice in the world, hence her nickname Edgar Allan O. As soon as I entered that freezing cold water, and yelped and screamed and swore at the top of my lungs, jumping over the waves, I finally felt freedom. Motherhood is beautiful, achingly so, but it’s also the hardest and loneliest journey a woman can take. The sea made me feel ok again, like I could do it, I could be a good mum and a happy woman and those two things could coexist again.

When you take that first gasp as you step into cold water, you remember why you are here. For moments like this. Swimming towards the sun or in rain or sometimes even snow. Your body adjusts and a creeping pink blushes your skin as an addictive sting starts at your toes and works its way up. I’ve laughed so hard I have filled my mouth with sea water, and I’ve washed away tears in the sea too. Children are always watching, and I feel proud my girl is watching her mama do something nourishing and wild. Without those women I swim with, without that sea, I would be a different woman and mother.

Author: Eloise

Note from Seabirds – Eloise has very strong opinions on the type of toppings that are acceptable in polite society to accompany a baked potato.