Be Your Own Brave

Being brave feels good. Achieving, accomplishing, striving for something when your are vulnerable, scared and full of fear. We are all capable of bravery. Be your own brave.

People often tell me that I am brave. Mainly because I swim in the sea year round but sometimes because I ‘manage my life’ in spite of my mental illness. And I used to be unable to accept the compliment because I felt a bit of a fraud. And that’s because, I assumed, if you were brave or courageous, it was because you were fearless. You had no fear. But I have so much fear. I am literally afraid of everything. But I am also able to face my fears.

I have recently discovered the joy of Jo Moseley’s instagram account and tuned into The Joy of SUP – The Paddle-boarding Sunshine Podcast. Jo took up paddle-boarding in 2016 after injuring her knee and since then had become the first woman to paddle coast to coast across Northern England at the young age of 54. Her adventure was captured as a film called Brave Enough- A Journey home to Joy. What I love about Jo is her absolute faith that we are all braver than we think and we have the ability to make a difference and find joy in that journey. And her story made me release that the thing I am most afraid of has already happened. I have always been terrified that people will see through the façade of me and be privy to the internal conversations of doubt and distress. But the disguise well and truly failed over a decade ago. It had already happened.

In a former life I was a successful Project Manager, working for a large corporation. I was well paid for the long hours and arduous targets I achieved. In the last couple of years of working there, I was responsible for finding and saving the company tens of millions of dollars. But, like everything in life, they still wanted more. I’d been managing all of this with a young family, a husband who worked away a lot, post natal depression and a head injury. One day I woke up and knew I couldn’t go to work. Not just that day. But never again. My body and mind responded to this drop in disguise by shutting down. For weeks I was unable to do anything but sleep and a short walk, if I managed to leave the house, would leave me wiped out. The full terror of my depression was obvious for all to see. So in my case, the thing that I fear the most, has already happened. The real me has been revealed. And although it is an extreme example, it is true for all of us. Our biggest fears are normally our own internal dialogue that has already taken place, a throw away comment from a friend from years ago that you carry with you, or years of conditioning created by your upbringing. Being brave is overcoming these fears and as Jo has reminded me in recent weeks, this brings joy.

After a while, I’m not sure how long, probably months, although the worst had happened I still had fear. And it was getting in the way of me living. So I took some small steps back into the world. I began to get involved in my children’s school and helped with the swimming lessons and reading in the classroom. My journey to wellness had begun by being brave. Every step of my journey gave me a sense of achievement. It was gradual and very personal to me. I built up slowly, nudging past my comfort zone each time.

Over the next ten years I continued to accomplish and achieve in my own arena. It didn’t look anything like my old life of long hours and arbitrary goals. Fear of failure remained but I accepted that I couldn’t be brave without fear. Elizabeth Gilbert wrote in her brilliant book; Big Magic “Trust me, your fear will always show up, especially when you’re trying to be inventive or innovative.” But she goes on to say; “It seems to me that the less I fight my fear, the less it fights back. If I can relax, fear relaxes, too.”.

I began to volunteer with the local Surf Lifesaving Club that my children joined. Initially doing all of the administration but eventually achieving lifesaving and trainer awards that allowed me to teach in the water. After a few years I began to run day long sessions for local schools in the summer term and actually get paid! My new office had the same view as my old one, the sea, but the job could not have been more different. After noticing some of the pupils really thrived during their day out of the classroom and being by the sea I set up the Brighton location for the Wave Project. A charity that aims to improve young people wellbeing and self esteem through surfing. There is nothing more brave than putting on a wetsuit with your fellow UK coordinators that are 25 years your junior. But I did it regularly travelling to the west country to participate in training and updates. And now I am a Seabird co-running my own Community Interest Company and gaining my Open Water Swimming Coaching award. I’ve even agreed to swim the bloody channel. The woman that walked (well pretty much was carried) out of her corporate job is almost unrecognisable as she slowly removed the layers of disguise. Plus my hair and skin have deteriorated from being in the sea in all of the elements and no longer being able to afford an expensive skin care regime.

None of this happened over night. It took a decade. Not everything I tried worked out. I’ve had some set backs both professionally and once again mentally, the two being intrinsically linked. In fact I only feel settled now I am able to work at my own pace with a supportive co-founder by my side. Managing my mental health is a bigger challenge for me than swimming the channel so I said yes to doing it. I know I am physically capable of doing it. I know that what lies beneath cannot hurt me. Swimming at night in the darkness doesn’t daunt me as the darkest place on earth is normally inside my mind. My biggest fear is actually that my happy place, the place I go to for rest and respite, may become a place of anxiety and training obligation. But I’ll cross that bridge when, and if, I get to it. We can always find fear if we look hard enough for it, but it’s is there to be overcome, not stop your journey.

Being brave can look and be very different for everyone. As humans we are unique so our experiences, fears and therefore courageous steps will also be exclusive to us. There isn’t one size fits all, you just take the step that is appropriate for you. I can strip down to my cossie on a crowded beach without a second thought. I have faith in my swim ability so I am not afraid of the water. But making small talk with a stranger literally brings me out in a cold sweat. Yet I have found courage in the company of my fellow swimmers. Swimming in the sea year round taught me to be brave at a time when I needed it most. There is no braver person that the skin swimmer about to enter the vast sea on a cold foreboding winter’s morning armed with just a flask of tea. I have been able to take this bravery into my everyday and explore the possibility of my purpose.

The first step on my journey since leaving my corporate job, was opening myself up to possibility. And I have never stopped doing that. Where it led me was sometimes in the wrong direction and not quite right for me but it showed me EVERY time that stepping outside my comfort zone could be scary but what was the worst that could happen that hadn’t already happened? Being brave is not innate. Start small and keep going, practise really does make perfect – well maybe not perfect, but manageable. And if you are really not feeling brave, just pretend you are. This, in itself, is being brave and gradually the pretence will become your reality.

Swimming through 2020

Laura has been swimming with the Salty Seabirds for 3 years and is always up for an adventure. But when we asked our swimming community to share their best swim of 2020 to lift our collective spirits, she struggled to find one…..because there wasn’t just one……there were many and they all gave her something different….. in the moment. Her musings about her struggle to choose just one reduced us to tears, joyful, in the moment, belonging and connected tears. Thank you Laura.

There’s been an invitation to choose the best swim of 2020.
It’s been responded to by many, many beautiful posts & memories.
It’s such an honour to be able to read each personal journey.
But I’ve struggled to post myself.
And I couldn’t put my finger on why.

2020 has been described by many, and for good reason, a terrible year.
But I heard on women’s hour on Christmas day, whilst driving a 5hr round trip to the New forest to see my loved ones (Covid tests negative), a suggestion that we see beyond just thinking of it as terrible. Not in a way to be insensitivily, ignorant, bulldozing through the horrors of others; but to not see the space of time of the year as inately bad. This may then stop one from seeing the joy in any of it or the joy that might come tomorrow or anything within that “year”.
I’m not sure I’ve summarised it well but the theme was Joy, and the idea as I saw it, that no matter what, joy might come, even in the darkest times.
What then ensued was a conversation about the fact that the interviewee was a swimmer, infact many of the guests were, including Rev Kate Bottley (swam every day with her lowest swim minus 3) and writer Tonia Buxton who sits in her freezer for 3 mins every morning (she’s a food writer so I’m guessing she might have access to a walk in one because there’s sod all room in mine even if I chopped a hand off!)
And that’s it, there it is again in 2020 (and before*).
The swimming.

The immersion in the cold that has allowed us to feel joy in what has been a difficult year.

And it’s hard to pin it down, that Joy.
I have photos but which one was the most joyous?

Not because they weren’t full or good enough. Or because it may be crass to spout about good when others may be struggling.
Infact it’s so important to share.
I shared the amazing story of Katie Wotton with a client recently. If you haven’t seen the story Katie has lipoedema and the psychological and physical pain of getting into a swimsuit and bring active has been such a struggle but she knew she loved it, and now she’s “got her smile back”.
It’s been so touching to see her journey on FB and to be able to personally encourage her I’ve seen so many other Seabirds give her the encouragement and love she deserved. (Here’s a little clip to watch)

And those of us in the know get it. That joy.
I am openly evangelical about it.

And now the joke has changed from: How do you know if someone’s a vegan to, How do you know someone cold water swims?
Because they’ll tell you, over and over again.

And it’s true.

I’m asked regularly why and it’s hard to sum up.

I’m a Dramatherapist and there’s a similar dilemma, I can tell you in theory what it is and how it works but the spark comes in doing it.

And so I tell people, just try it, it really isn’t that cold…
And many have this year.

And if I’m honest, it was a little bit of a shock to see so many people swim this year, and for a time I felt a little bit overwhelmed.

Suddenly Kingston beach in Shoreham, our* little respite from the storm, was now suddenly packed that you couldn’t get into the car park.

That took some getting use to. But then I quickly got over myself because of course they’re swimming, because its fucking fantastic.

And the Sea is big enough for us all, that’s the beauty.
It’s all of ours. It belongs only to itself.

And if people in one room studio flats in the city need to access it, move aside and let them through because it’s not mine just because I have the luxury of being able to walk down.

It’s life enhancing.
It’s saved us all.
It’s listened to our woes, it’s held our weaknesses. It’s given strength and courage.
It’s tickles our senses & enlivened our spirit and it’s washed away what we don’t need to hold.

And so now I’m obsessed.

If I’m not in it, I’m next to it, scouring it’s shores, cleaning it. Taking 3 for the sea and more.
Because we have a duty to look after it.

And if I can’t be near it I’m reading more about it.

For Christmas my work Secret Santa gave me the book Gift from the Sea.
I devoured it in one sitting and sat emotional, awestruck and understood.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote it in 1955 and it’s still so relevant in so many ways.
I could quote so much of it now but I’ll let you find the nuggets that might resonate. Or not. Because we’re all different (thank goodness).

But what it made me realise is I can’t find my most memorable swim because I needed each one in so many different ways this year.
The fierce ridiculously large storm waves on my first crawl swim lesson with the amazing Christine who was so calmly unflappable as we spluttered and inelegantly forth with our breathing, the waves and the jellyfish flying by us!
The times when we pilcharded on the shoreline, getting gravelly knickers, peb-jazzled nether regions, and exerting exhilarating Cackles.
The early morning quieter meets, that start with a few nods and end in dressing while singing je t’aime.
The swims to let go, to mark losses.
The swims where we curse and cackle and turn the air bluer than the sea and sky with our language.
The swims where the world is put to rights, and we remembered what we used to know but have forgotten.
The river swim where I swam furthest I ever have and practised my crawl, with pride and trepidation that I might be swallowing cow pee, but just loving the glorious beauty of it all.
The night swim with my youngest on a deserted beach.
The many many many Groans, Huff’s, Grunts, swearing, cursing, gutteral release of almost every one.
The letting go of the Rona, Boris, building work, relationships, work, hormones, perimenopausal angst, life
Just letting go.

And the moment in every swim where I float on my back, breathe, silent and look up into the sky.

And none of that could have happen without a Seabird by my side.
To quote Anne:

My Island selects for me people who are very different from me-the strangers who turns out to be, in the frame of sufficient time and space, invariably interesting and enriching…life chose them for us.

And that’s partly why I can’t choose one swim this year.

Because in every swim there has been a different beauty and often a different seabird.
I can’t choose and miss one.

And also I realise that I can’t choose the best because the sensation of Joy is in the “now” moment of every swim.
I find it hard to feel that exactness again.

It’s being completely alone yet being completely held at the exact same time .

It is in being in the present so completely.
That is what gives me exactly what I need, and that’s what I hope you’ll find if you try it.

Here’s to being in the moment.

Thank you Saltys
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