I am an early bird. Silly and ridiculously early. Nothing really affects it. A late night, alcohol or jet lag do nothing to change the hour I wake. This is both a curse and a blessing. Alongside medication, I manage my mental health with a self-care package that includes enough sleep and swimming in the sea. Getting enough sleep when you always wake before first light is a challenge. However, it means I get some solitude in the still cool morning air to enjoy my first cuppa alone to collect my thoughts. And a swim, as the sun is rising, is the best way to start the day.
When I wake up, whatever time that is, there is just no going back to sleep. My busy brain engages and an incredibly messy amount of thoughts rush in to replace my dreams. I don’t fight it anymore. I’ve learned to go with it. I get up and allow the crazy chatter some room while the kettle boils and I unload the dishwasher. Like the waves in the sea, fierce and full of energy, left to their own devices they form into sets and swells. If left to organize themselves I gain quiet clarity.
Being alone with my thoughts is something I actively avoid throughout the day. But there is something about the stillness of the morning, particularly on the beach or in the sea, that makes them more manageable. I’m rested and ready to face the maelstrom of my mind. I know I’ll be done by midday, exhausted and ready to retreat so it’s now or never. It is the calm before the storm.
Before the sun takes control of the wind there is often a gentle off shore breeze on the beach in the mornings. Only the tops of the trees know that the wind is there. It is enough to muffle and mute the sounds of the land. And it allows the sea some space to sing to the shingle. Everything appears gentler, even the way I enter the sea and swim in the mornings is ethereal.
I leave home before the kids get up and the house stirs and I am never more alone in the mornings on the beach or in the sea. Conversely, this time of much treasured solitude, is when I feel most connected. Being alone, in the damp air, on a deserted beach, at dawn I am connected to myself. I am connected to the natural rhythm of the sea. My world is still spinning but my axis is still.
There is something fresh about the mornings, and not just the bite of the wind and the water before the sun has had the chance to warm them. Every day is a fresh start. Yesterday is in the past. Your possibilities for the day are endless. There is hope. “So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.” Virginia Woolf.
On wild windy mornings you feel alive. And it’s good to be alive! You feel every part of your body. The cold and the waves of the vast winter seas is mother nature as her best. Your worries float away on a calm sea, but in a choppy chill waters in January, he sea renders them insignificant.
Routine is a key component to managing my mental health. Throughout the day the decisions we make increase, causing fatigue, so having a morning routine that requires no decision making keeps the tiredness at bay. The brains resources and my resilience is limited, but my morning swims, cemented in my every day, keep it topped up. This healthy routine helps me maintain physical, emotional, and mental health during stressful times.
Morning swims are different to those later in the day. You are waking your mind and your body. Swimming is a great form of exercise that is low impact and really gives your body a great stretch and work out. Even if the sea is too rough to swim in I will head to the beach to walk on the shore or run on the promenade. Just being by the sea.
My solo morning swims differ from those I share with my swimming community. They are full of chatter, laughter and cake. Whereas my morning swims are meditative and mindful. I find a calm flow of repetitive strokes. Again this is a time when my thoughts come and go and requires little effort to practice. As the winter draws in the and the sea temperature drops and dawn distance swims are no longer possible, quick cold dips replace them. Instead the cold water resets by brain and shocks my body into morning mode.
Once I’ve had a swim, combed the beach or I have sat and watched the waves come and go and I have quite literally collected my thoughts, the tone is set for the day. Without this morning ritual, the day can take quite a dark turn. Up with the larks I am grateful that it provides me with a natural coping mechanism for my anxiety and depression. Left alone with my thoughts I am able to plan rather than procrastinate.
I couldn’t not live by the sea. I couldn’t live without my mornings in the sea.
Pass the Salt 