What if swimming in the sea isn’t the cure?

There are points in everybody’s life when they struggle with their mental health and wellbeing. Part of being human is to experience suffering and sadness. But for most, this low mood is temporary and can lessen with time and there will be a return to being socially, cognitively and emotionally healthy. For others, who have mental illness disorders, the suffering and sadness do not go away. These feelings are life long. And whilst swimming in the sea improves their mental health it does not ‘cure’ their mental illness.

So what is the difference between mental health and mental illness? Well we all have mental health, and it relates to wellness. Mental illness is when you have been diagnosed with a mental disorder, of which there are a wide range and you may be suffering with more than one. Think about it in physical terms. You eat well and exercise to manage your physical health and remain physically healthy. But, if you have a physical illness, like diabetes, managing your physical health will lessen the symptoms but it won’t cure it. Someone with a mental illness or disorder has poor mental health just as someone with a physically illness or disorder has poor physical health. But situations or experiences can cause anyone to have poor mental health like a change in personal circumstances. Much like falling off a bike will impact someone’s physical health.

The World Health Organisation defines mental health as as “a state of well-being in which every individual realises his or her own potential, can cope with the normal stresses of life, can work productively and fruitfully, and can contribute to her or his community”. A salutogenic approach to wellbeing is achievable in lots of ways, but for me, it’s being by the sea, swimming in the sea, walking by the sea etc. But mental illness or disorder is a diagnosed condition. Both affect how we think, feel and act so they are often grouped together as the same thing, but they are not. I view my mental health and mental disorder as two separate entities that are intrinsically linked but they are not the same.

So I have poor mental health, in the most part, because of my mental illness. I can improve it but I cannot ever have ‘good’ mental health, only mental health that is bearable and manageable. This, I realise, sounds stark and hopeless but I have come to accept it and as long as I keep myself in check, get enough rest, and take daily medication I can cope. Rest for me is time away from over stimulation and time spent in nature. I can actually feel my shoulders move away from my ears as I near the beach. Just the sight and sound instantly takes me away from my day to day depression. And whilst I cant permanently live on the beach – although that plan is in gestation – I can make regular swims in the sea when everything feels too much.

I started swimming outdoors a long time ago, as most people do, during my childhood. Summers spent on Sussex shores and term time spent in local ponds and rivers. Not quite all year round, but not far off. I also started suffering with a mental illness a long time ago. But it has only been in recent years that I have really become aware of the positive impact that swimming in the sea and being on the beach has had on my mental health. It has not bought an end to my mental illness but it has provided relief when I am in the water and I believe prevented a significant number of my inevitable dysthymia episodes or at least reduced the amount of time they hang around.

Over recent years, there has been a considerable amount of coverage in the media and across agencies highlighting the importance of looking after your mental health. There are lots of ways you can do this one of which is swimming in the outdoors. For many it has been something they have turned to at a particular time in their life. To release their grief at losing a loved one, to release their anger over a failed relationship, to release the stress of their job, to release the pain of a physical ailment. But there is no release for my storm clouds, they will always be there. I have never been so low that I am unable to see tomorrow, but tomorrow’s sky is still grey. There are breaks in the cloud, my life is not void of joy, there are chinks where the sun shines down. It’s just these moments are few and far between but they are most certainly always found by the sea. I will always return to my state du jour of lethargy, overwhelm and anger not long after I leave the beach. What my time in the sea gives me is respite rather than a progressive way to end my sadness.

One of the mental disorders I have been diagnosed with is Persistent Depressive Disorder (PDD) or Dysthemia. The key word here being persistent. It is both chronic and lifelong. It is exhausting living with it and the internal miserable and angry dialogue that accompanies it. It is also exhausting living with me, so we can add a tremendous amount of guilt into the mix too. I take medication every day which in the most part helps me get up, get dressed and function. My symptoms come and go, and their intensity can change over time which I have become much more aware of since swimming in the sea. But typically, for me, my symptoms don’t disappear for more than a couple of months at a time.

Like all humans I will experience changes and situations that cause me stress and loss. During these times I will feel hard and it can manifest as a depressive episode. This is exhibited and apparent differently for different people. For me I will be unable to to get dressed or leave the house. I will be angry with the whole world but particularly those closest to me. I see the world around me conspiring against me and I become resentful and judgmental of others. This is sometimes referred to as double depression and true to it’s name it feels doubly hard. I can prevent an episode if I have enough awareness to see it coming or at the very least I can reduce the time spent on a downward spiral. This I do by swimming in the sea which is available to me alongside a supportive community. Meeting someone to swim makes me accountable, it literally lifts me out of bed and lifts my mood.

I have tried various forms of therapy to alleviate the symptoms of my mental disorders. Some have worked to varying degrees, some haven’t. It’s all very individual and what I may advocate isn’t for all and vice versa. But I have remained open to trying and forever curious which has been my saving grace over the years. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) is a form of talking therapy that aims to break your present negative thoughts down into manageable parts. Mindfulness based CBT as an ongoing therapy, but I just see this as another thing on the long to do list that needs ticking off. Meditation which does not come easily to me unless it happens by chance which frequently occurs whilst I find my swimming flow in the sea but not in a studio or workshop environment. Journaling doesn’t appeal to me as I can become frustrated if I don’t do it every day or if I sit down to do it and I have just got nothing to say or most likely if the thought of writing overwhelms me. But in reality writing this blog is my journal – so clearly writing as a way of processing my thoughts and emotions is a good practice for me. Practising gratitude is really not something I have achieved as the things I am grateful for are surrounded by negative thoughts – for example why my long suffering husband has stuck it out for so long. And then there’s always the self sabotaging glass of wine or 6 in the evening.

After a number of years trying new things, reading a lot, keeping curious and not giving up – not consistently and not without falling a lot – I think, I hope, I have found my flow. For me, nothing beats daily medication complimented by swimming in the sea with a supportive community. This is how I manage my mental illness AND my mental health. Salted Wellbeing with dash of SSRIs. It may not be the cure, there is not cure, but I have found a way to stay safe in the storm.

IMPROVE the Moment by Swimming in the Sea

Cold Water Therapy. Salted Wellbeing. Vitamin Sea. Whatever you want to call it many people are turning to sea swimming to improve their wellness and reduce stress. How it works for me is similar to Dialectical Behavioural Therapy I’ve had in the past. This blog explores the similarities between DBT and swimming in the sea as part of a community.

How do you deal with life’s daily stress?

I look to IMPROVE the moment which is a form of Dialectical Behavioural Therapy (DBT). The aim of DBT is for you to learn skills to manage difficult feelings and make positive changes in your life. I have tried various forms of therapy over the years to manage my PDD and Anxiety. I have been rather negative when asked about my experiences of them. When asked I say they are not for me (read they don’t work for me) but I don’t want put other people off from trying them as they may work for them. I have since come to realise, for me, it was the situation of a clinical room, a desperation to feel better fast, and a prescriptive session that created my resistance to any form of clinical therapy. I just needed to be in the sea with a community and there it was, my therapy.

5 years ago, I stumbled upon skin swimming year round with a mate. We were having a similar difficult time at work and both decided to resign from our jobs as they were having a significantly detrimental effect on our wellness. With the luxury time afforded us, we began to swim in the sea regularly, putting the world to rights in the waves. And we just didn’t stop. Before we knew it we had swum through winter. And we felt so much better. So we set up a Community Interest Company and a Community Swim Group to encourage others to swim in the sea too. I recently realised that I was actually drawing upon things I had learned in behaviour therapy and finally reaping the rewards simply because the setting had changed. In and around the sea I was able to IMPROVE my wellness.

Fun in the waves

IMPROVE STANDS FOR;

  • IMAGERY
  • MEANING
  • PRACTICE
  • ONE
  • VACATION
  • ENCOURAGE

IMAGERY

As part of the therapy, you are meant to imagine the outcome you want from your current situation. I always struggled with this. Until I got in the sea. The ‘in real life’ imagery surrounding me of blue space gave me head space. And my post swim chats with fellow swimmers added to the clarity of the outcome I wanted. Floating, breathing, relaxing in the water all created an environment where I could picture myself doing things differently. I’ve made my best decisions in the sea. The most obvious being, starting a Social Enterprise that aims to provide others with the opportunity to swim in the sea to manage their wellbeing and a Sea Swimming Community!

Relax and float

meaning

This is about reasoning and finding the reason in a past or present situation. Again framed in the sea or the backdrop of the beach, many of the things that create anxiety and worry for me pale into insignificance next to the magnitude of Mother Nature. In the sea I am constantly learning and adapting to the environment around me, something I am frequently able to take home with me when I leave the beach. What this can mean, for me, is the situation or relationship that was causing me so much angst is put into perspective. The weight of it’s meaning is lightened, whilst what is important to me remains intact. There is purpose in every painful experience, even if it’s that I survived it albeit scathed!

practice

This refers to the practice of acknowledging our connection to something bigger. For some this is prayer and religion. For others it’s mediation and a higher meaning. For me it’s getting into a vast expanse of salty water and feeling connected with the natural environment, my swimming community, my past, present and future happy place. There is an undeniable connection between my wellness and water. The societal and social media pressure to practice mindfulness sends my busy brain into overdrive and overwhelm. At the mere mention of Wim Hoff I come out in a cold sweat. Upon reflection I have come to realise my simple practice of sea swimming is the way I confirm my connection.

Community Swim

relax

Yogic breathing, baths, getting out in nature. All great ways of relaxing. And sea swimming has it all. In order to prevent Cold Water Shock and acclimatise when entering the sea, we need to relax our breathing which in turn relaxes our nervous system. Floating in the water and stilling the mind. The blue hues of the seascape and the sounds of waves on the shore are all tried and tested relaxation aids. I’ve tried yoga but I just think about all the things I should be doing instead. I love reading but when my mental health is poor I’m unable to focus on the text for any length of time. Walking is great but I often get my phone out and go down an internet rabbit hole when I should be looking to make sure I don’t step down an actual rabbit hole. But, I have found that sea swimming and being at the beach works for me. So much easier when you cannot take screens into the sea and it’s the only way I’ve really found I can relax.

ONE THING IN THE MOMENT

My mind is constantly caught up in thoughts about the future or more commonly the past. And not in a happy memory or excited about what’s to come way. Being present is something I really struggle with. I’m regularly awake at 4am replaying the previous days interactions. Swimming in the sea provides me with respite from these distorted thoughts. Swimming in the sea brings your attention back to ‘one thing in the moment’. I need to think about what the sea is doing, where will I get in, how will I get out, where are the waves coming from, how is my swim buddy doing, has the wind changed direction……. the list goes on and you get my point.

Be in the Moment

vacation

Excuse the Americanism, but the word holiday would ruin the acronym. What is meant here is taking a break. Just for an hour or two. Bunk off from work. Bin the home cooked dinner. Switch off your phone. Get into bed. Or, my preferred option, is to go for a swim in the sea or take a bracing walk on the beach. Yes it will still be there when I get back but I will return to it with renewed energy after a break. Being accountable by arranging to meet others for a swim is a really good way to ensure you take a break. Another benefit of swimming with a community. I have a couple of regular swim times a week with friends, that ensure I get my sea time.

encouragement

This can be provided by others. My swim community can be my biggest cheer leaders BUT it’s best when it comes from me. Again another one I struggle with as I am extremely self critical and far too worried about what other people think of me. However, with practice I have got better. The way I have approached this is to talk to myself as my swim community friends would speak to me. In really hard times, and sometimes during significant depressive episodes, people swimming beside me have shown me immense support and love. At times, without them there would be no self efficacy. And as with so many of my sea swimming experiences I have been able to take this away from the beach and change my internal dialogue to replicate their kind words. I can navigate choppy water, I can cope with the cold, I can deal with my daily life.

All of these IMPROVEMENTS have not been done consciously or with intent. They have been the happy outcome of swimming in the sea. This is my therapy.

Super Support

If you have read and shared this blog we invite you to donate the cost of a post swim hot drink or slice of cake to the Seabirds Community Swim Fund. All profits from our online wild swim shop are also donated to the Seabirds Community Swim fund. This way you can buy your wild swim kit to keep you warm and donate.

The Seabird’s Community Swim Fund raises money to pay for swim kit and lessons for non-swimmers with a focus on fulfilling Seabirds’ commitment to the Black Swimming Association’s DIPER charter – where Seabirds “stand with the BSA to create a swim buddy system in which we partner non-swimmers and swimmers for the purpose of exchanging aquatic information, support, education and resources to enable more ethnically diverse communities to get in the water.” So far donations have enabled us to fund swimming lessons, kit and transport for a number of Brighton and Hove adults and children who are under represented in the Outdoor Swimming Community. Many of whom have gone on to join us swimming in the sea to improve their wellbeing!

THANK YOU

The “Pass the Salt” Seabirds Blogs include; Stories from the Sea, Advice for safe swimming, Swim kit recommendations and Wellbeing and Water reflections. Use the category menu on the home page to search for many more ……. happy reading and happy swimming.

Community Swimmers Sharing the Swim Love

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
X

A Permission of Seabirds

Finding a flock where you belong, where you are accepted, where you are at ease is a thing to be treasured. It gives you permission to be you. And that was evident in abundance during a weekend away with the Seabirds in Suffolk.

Last weekend, a flock of Seabirds and I headed to Suffolk for a weekend of swimming. It is a beautiful part of the country and we became enamoured by her quiet beaches, meandering rivers and tidal creeks. We’d done something similar the year before when we spent a few days in a bunkhouse in Pembrokeshire. As soon as we had unpacked from that weekend in Wales we had booked this years Seabird tour to Suffolk. It’s hard to imagine that a group, like ours, where many of us suffer with mental illnesses, wellbeing issues and physical difficulties would want to spend a weekend away with a big noisy group doing physical activities. But it is what bought us together, these flaws of ours. We accept that everyone in this group has a back story. More importantly we accept ourselves. So whilst the scenic swims and adventures in new places is a big draw, giving ourselves permission and being granted permission, to just be, was an even bigger draw.

Right up until the day of departure our flock was dwindling. Covid has not been kind to anyone and many circumstances have changed that meant a few of the flock had to stay at home. But with an itinerary of swims, a YHA Hostel booked, a silent disco at the ready and enough food to feed an army we were Suffolk bound. Cath and I left early to spend the day ‘working’ offsite which included a visit to Dunwich beach. The rest of the flock were travelling after work so we were the first to arrive at the hostel. Gradually the birds began to arrive in dribs and drabs. Every car load a wondrous surprise of which birds had travelled with which. The success of this community evident in friendships that had formed in the sea, only a few months ago, but now away from the beach, arriving together.

Once we’d all arrived, dumped our belongings, had nana naps, been to the loo, we headed out to find a tidal creek to swim in. 18 women walking along a narrow footpath with tow floats and swim robes trying to find a suitable spot to get in was more than a local bird watcher could believe. With eyes like saucers she asked if she could stay and watch. After investigating a jetty and a floating pontoon it was deemed too muddy to get in and out without getting stuck. So we headed to the sea and the familiar feel of shingle under foot in Aldeburgh. A convoy of cars in the dark soon lost each other but we all made it to the beach and were content to swim in car loads scattered along the shore. Tow floats illuminated with bike lights or being buff on the beach. Swims in different stretches but all experiencing the magic of being in the sea after the sun had set and the light had left for the day. Almost brackish to the taste, silky to the touch and quiet apart from our cackling. It was a wonderful way to start the weekend

Saturday, and the plan was to swim 1.5 miles along the River Stour from Dedham Mill to Flatford Mill. This wonderful part of the world was captured in Constable’s The Hay Wain and it did not disappoint. Two of the flock needed rest rather than a swim and set off for a beach stroll and lunch instead so down to 16 we set off to walk between the two mills before swimming back. It was an incredible swim through chocolate box countryside. The water was clear and void of litter, wonderful underwater woodlands of aquatic plants grew in abundance, shallow gravel bends meant sighting fish was easy and there were Constable painting worthy lily pads in the shade. A few walked the first section and got in later. A few got out early. Some hopped in and out as the mood took them. We ended up back at the starting meadow in different groups to the ones we had set off in, at various different times. Once the swan and her cygnets at the exit bridge were negotiated, we picnicked on the grass by the river. Cake is the most suitable way to celebrate a swim safari. Then it was back to the hostel to dry our kit while we read books, snoozed or sunbathed on the beach.

The next swim was an early evening dip at Thorpeness. Again the birds opted in or out depending on their mood. Some stayed behind to cook. Others were already on the beach. I opted for the beach but went for a wander along the shoreline to look for treasure before jumping in the big blue. There is a lot of tidal erosion in this part of the world but also a wealth of wildlife and nature reserves. It is a beach combers paradise. As I returned to the fold some were getting out of the sea, some were getting dressed, some where still in the water. As I slipped into the cooling waters, doing my own thing, I realised so was everyone else.

That evening we were treated by the culinary skills of the group and had a feast of curries, followed by meringues and lemon curd. A firepit was built in the back garden and we danced to a Silent Disco. (Silent it wasn’t with lots of singing). Again the group came and went – some danced all night (well til 11pm), some opted for an early turn in, others went straight to bed after dinner. We didn’t care, we didn’t mind. If they were happy, we were happy.

The next morning and more food. Also, aching bodies and ailments taking their toll. So instead of the planned long river swim in Cambridge we opted for salt and the sea once more. Over breakfast some of the group made an early start home with work and family commitments to attend to. Simple shouts of goodbye and waves whilst the rest of us remained at the breakfast table were enough. With beds stripped and the kitchen empty the remainder birds headed for Covehithe beach with the contents of the fridge in a cool box. Covehithe is a beach at the end of a lane and was a stunning place to spend a sunny morning. Sat Navs took us various ways and when we arrived there were birds already bobbing and bathing. Clear blue skies and warm winds meant a morning of sunbathing, swimming and strolling. More left after a quick dip as they needed the rest and respite of home and again farewell shouts from the shore to the sea were sufficient. Lunch was eaten, sea glass was searched for and final wees were had in the sea before it was time to go home.

So the weekend was a success. Not because we managed to squeeze it in before ever changing Covid regulations. Not because the beaches and rivers were idyllic and far from the madding crowd, unlike our home town. Not because the food was lush and the company was salty. But because we are a group that accept each other. A group that doesn’t judge how many eggs you’ve laid or even if you’ve ever laid any. It is a group that enables you to give yourself permission to be imperfect, permission to chose, permission to try new things, permission to take chances. Permission to come and go as you chose. Words cannot express how freeing that is.

We speak the common language of permission to be happy. That is to say, we’ve all (to varying degrees) stopped looking for approval or seeking consent. We’ve realised it is pointless and we don’t need permission from others, we give ourselves permission, we chose to do things that make us happy. We’ve accepted our flaws and given ourselves permission to be imperfect. Perfection isn’t real and only serves to steal happiness. We permit ourselves time to step out of the day to day and try new things, visit new places, find new adventures. If we fail, we fail together but you’ll have a bunch of Seabirds cheering you on from the sidelines regardless. And in this safe environment we have permission to take a chance, take a risk, a leap of faith where the rewards make us happy. This is why the weekend was a success. We accept and are accepted.

When home at last, I was soaking in the bath reflecting on my gratitude for the flocks’ time, cooking,  enthusiasm, sense of adventure, sense of humour, quiet conversations, sea glass hunting and not forgetting swimming. My greatest love is seeking out new places by the sea,  but my biggest fear is the  loud and busy bustle of being around groups for extended periods of time. That weekend I was able to walk alone on the shoreline yet dance with friends. I was able to read on my own, yet join in the chatter in the kitchen. I was able to float in solitude yet be part of the flock as we headed downstream in idyllic settings. I was able to say loud rude sweary words where I wanted and whenever I needed. A place of permission and acceptance is a thing to be treasured.

Woman cannot live on Swims alone

I’m all come swim with me until the summer when I have no desire to swim. Or is it because I have no need to swim?

It’s that time of year again when the inevitable summer swim slump occurs. Life gets busy and the beach gets busy. I find myself muttering under my breath about fair weather swimmers as I approach our increasingly crowded favourite spot of shingle in front of Hove Lawns. Hardly aligned with my belief that swimming is for all and everyone should give it a go. The warmer waters remove the temperature barrier that prevents so many from swimming in the sea. This is a good thing. But still it keeps me away from my sacred sea.

It’s not that I like solitude when I am swimming. I have written many times about the sense of community and connection I gain from swimming with others. But I also do not like crowds. Too many people, too much noise, bodies invading my fiercely protected personal space overwhelms my over sensitive brain. I also fiercely protect my swimming space and when I see plastic all over the pebbles I want to weep. Hardly my happy place in the summer months.

My swim squad also disperses across Europe on their holidays. They share images of Italian Lakes, Yorkshire Tarns, French Rivers and Greeks Seas. They have all found secret swim spots, a Salty Seabird haven away from our busy beaches. There really is nothing better than finding a swim spot with family and friends and there is no one else there. You’ve hit the wild swimming jackpot. This is impossible in Brighton and Hove as the beaches are always busy in the summer and good old Sussex by the sea is a wild swimmers dry spot. There are rivers and lakes in abundance but they are not accessible to the public. I scroll through neighbouring Surrey’s wild swim group in envy at the access they have to the Thames and the River Wey. The Wild Swim guide books offer no real alternative to the sea in Sussex.

The alternative would be getting up at sunrise before the beach gets busy. Not really a hard task for an early riser like me. What ever the season I will wake up between 5-5.30am every day. During the summer months it is light enough to head down to the beach for a swim. Seabird Christine runs the 6.15am club and most mornings partakes in a dawn dip so I would even have Salty company. But I just can’t seem to muster the enthusiasm during the hot months. I think I may be a cold water junkie. If the sea temperature is below double digits it seems to be more appealing. During the summer the sea is room temperature, which for me, is a bit bath like.

I am currently on holiday in France where they have a much more tolerant attitude towards swimming outdoors than we do in the England. There are Lakes and rivers in abundance close to where I am staying. But, in all honesty lakes just don’t do it for me, especially when they are 25 degrees. I class the Mediterranean as a Salty Lake – not a sea. The water level is low so the rivers near by are too shallow to swim in. With lots of research and driving around I could no doubt find a suitable deep bend in a river. But I came on holiday to relax and read not to swim. And I am just as happy to be dry for the duration.

So what happens to my mental health during these times of drought, when I am an advocate of outdoor swimming as a way of managing wellbeing. As I write this, with a glass on rosé sitting on a veranda in Provence in the cool outdoor air I am happy. I have in fact been happy all summer long, even with a reduction in regular swims. Life has been by no means smooth swimming, life isn’t for anyone, but I have experienced no significant episodes of anxiety or depression. Which has made me consider why. Don’t get me wrong I am glad not to be sad but I wonder why.

Cold water swimming is just one thing in my arsenal against my mental health demons. I have lots of other things that are working alongside regular sea swimming. They have been been doing their thing in the background consistently as the dips have dwindled. Supplements, talking, rest, new experiences, good books, digital downtime, exercise, dog walks; are just some of the things in the mental health ammunition box that allow people to continue to cope. I am fortunate to have access to them all.

I have a husband and a business partner that keep me in check and tell me to slow down when I am accelerating at a rate of knots that is not necessary. Down time away from digital distractions is a necessary part of my mental maintenance but difficult to balance when you run your own business. Being disciplined with my down time and clever with scheduling has had a positive impact on my wellbeing.

I am currently well rested. Lots of early nights and saying no to too many evenings out has enabled me to manage and recover from numerous Seabird evening sessions, lessons and events. Now I am on holiday and the pace has definitely slowed to a crawl. If we are lucky, the kids may rise before lunchtime, so our excursions are mainly low key and local. I have entire mornings to read, write, think.

I know these things, amongst others, are working on my wellbeing. They are the hidden cogs that aren’t as visible as my sea swimming. My shoulder was injured for months preventing me from doing any swimming of substance. Yes I was frustrated but I accepted it. The busy beaches have reduced my swim time to once a week but I don’t mind. I am on holiday and the main focus isn’t finding a swim spot and that’s OK.

Don’t get me wrong the desire to jump into any body of water I happen to stumble across is still there. And I cannot wait to get back to the pebble, waves and community of my favourite Hove beach. But for now I am just as happy out of the water

Author: Seabird Kath

Swimming with my Sister

My love of swimming in the sea was cultivated from a young age. I spent every school holiday, even the cold winter ones, in a converted railway carriage on Selsey’s East Beach. It was the stuff of Enid Blyton books. Sea swimming numerous times a day, camping out in haystacks, racing the Lifeboat maroon onto the beach and cycling on an array of Rand Hand Gang bikes for miles on the flat reclaimed land. All of this I shared with my brother, foster siblings, cousins, new friends (now firmly established as old friends) and my little sister. With only 2 years between us in age no matter how much I tried to shake her, there was always my younger sister! In her orange towelling bathing suit.

She was ever present in the sea with me. If there was a summer thunder storm at night we would be allowed to get out of bed to jump into the sea to watch the fork lightning display floating on our backs. (It was the 1970s there was no H&S). We perfected our jumping and diving at high tide off the breakwaters into the depths that the long shore drift had created. We created flotillas of rubber dinghies, washed up crabbing pots and floats and old rowing boats and set sail into low tide lagoons.

With exactly the same upbringing and childhood experiences it has always fascinated me how we grew into such different adults. She is always well turned out and I look like something the cat dragged in. She has incredible patience with people, probably due to working as a nurse for 25 years, and I, diplomatically put, do not. She is able to cope with blood and gore while I am firmly hidden behind the cushion. I get in the sea all year round and she, even on on a summers day does not. But she did. She just doesn’t anymore.

The family holidays of the 1970s and 80s on the Sussex coast have been replaced with annual family celebration holidays. If there is an 0 or a 5 at the end of your birthday year you are expected to find a big house, by the sea, and invite siblings, parents, children, aunts, cousins and dogs to join you. This year it was Dad’s 75th and we headed off to Bude at Easter. I packed my swim suit, my sister did not.

What is not outwardly apparent is that behind my sisters immaculate appearance and organised life she has more than most to deal with. Her youngest daughter Emily has been refusing to go to school for most of her time at senior school. She is now in year 10 and they have lived with school refusal for 3 years. My sister works for the NHS and is like a blood hound when it comes to getting answers but even with that on her side she is no closer to a resolution. I could go on and on about the lack of services available, scarce school funding, female autism going un-diagnosed, acute anxiety, daily melt downs but you get the picture. Life is incredibly hard for my sister and my niece. With that in mind I planned to get Emily in the sea. This I knew would be relatively easy as she loves the sea. It calms her and gives her overworked brain a rest. She swims with me at Grandma Seaside’s on the Isle of Wight and this time in Cornwall her cousin and uncle were going to teach her how to surf. We bought spare wet suits, gloves, boots, robes with us and Emily packed her swimsuit.

So during the holiday, Emily headed into the sea at Widemouth bay and had some foamie fun in the white water. My sister watched from the beach, every present, ever anxious. She doesn’t like the cold water and the waves fill her with dread. Yet here she was watching her daughter, entrusting her to her cousin, having fun. Knowing she had to sideline her own anxiety to allow Emily some respite. Later I went in for a skin swim with my sister-in-law, in the waves, to the amazement of neoprene clad on lookers and again my sister looked on. Same seventies upbringing in the sea but she couldn’t bring herself to get in. To be honest it didn’t even cross my mind to ask her if she wanted to join us as I assumed the answer would be a firm no. And she hadn’t packed her swimsuit.

The holiday house was full, all week, with wet-suits, towels, swimsuits drying on every available radiator and hook. Talk was invariably about swimming, surf spots and surf reports. Post sea highs where shared around the fire with steaming mugs of post sea tea. The highlight of the week was that my husband and niece were going to join me for a swim in the iconic Bude Tide Pool. The surprise of the week was when my sister announced she’d like to join us too! Now to find her a swimsuit.

I often wonder what made her decide to come for a cold water skin swim that day. I think it was because she could see how much it does for my mental health and for her daughters. Perhaps she was curious about the post swim happiness high and whether it too would be some respite for her. Maybe it was good old fashioned sibling rivalry. The Tide pool has sides and a way to get in safely with no crashing waves. It also has changing rooms so that you don’t have to struggle on the sand to get your knickers on. For her the perfect conditions. So she borrowed by daughters swimsuit, refused neoprene but donned various rash-vests, gloves and boots. She questioned why she was doing it over and over again on the way there but didn’t turn back.

We talked a lot about cold water shock and what she should expect when she got in the water. It was March when the sea is at it coldest. I got in first and showed her how I floated on my back and controlled by breathing. She attempted to get in a few times and needed a bit of coaxing but eventually she took the plunge. You could see by her face she was trying really hard to control her breath so we sang. We swam and and we sang and slowly she was able to talk and regulate her breathing and we took a gentle breast stroke turn around the pool. And we were transported back to the 1970s when we regularly swam in the sea together. She was able to forget about life’s daily challenges for a few precious minutes and was so chuffed with herself that she had done it her happiness was infectious. For those few precious minutes she was back in her orange towelling swimsuit with no inhibitions, self consciousness or anxieties.

As a regular outdoor swimmer I am asked all the time if I have a favourite swim. Well this was it. It was the best swim ever. I have swum in the beautiful Glens of Scotland, Tarns in the Lake District, Rivers in the Somerset levels but I never thought I’d see the day when I would share the sea with my sister again. There was no thunder storm, breakwater jumping or dinghies but I did share the sea with my sister again. And it was the best! And now when she holidays in the UK she packs her swimsuit. My sister is a Seabird.

Author: Kath Seabird

It’s all in the timing – making time for a swim.

When will you have your swim today? It’s a bank holiday so the usual routine is out the window with kids and husband at home. It’s unlikely they will come with me so I need to find the balance between a lie in ( my son has promised me breakfast in bed) and swimming before the beach fills up with day trippers. I have opted for 10am at Costa Del Brunswick so it doesn’t eat into the day but the beach is still quiet as this is a city that sleeps, and it sleeps until late morning.

But what is your usual swim time?

Do you have dawn dips to start your day salty? There are a few salties that have been in, showered and started work before most of our alarms go off. We like their swim smile social media posts from the warmth and comfort of our beds. Then there is the early bird 8am crew that fit a swim in before the school run. The land has yet to warm up so there is no sea breeze and a natural off shore wind make perfect swimming conditions in the morning. The crowds are also yet to descend providing swimming solitude for those that seek it. It’s a great way to start your day. But be mindful when you are being mindful, there are no lifeguards and less people at this time of day with winds that push you further out to sea………..

Do you have dusk dips to end your day salty? After a hard days graft a sea swim can wash away the cares of the day. It is also a really good way to avoid bedtime if you have small children! The madding crowd have returned up the M23 or jumped back on the train to London. Many people have bedtime routines that include switching off gadgets or reading a book but my favourite way to wind down before bed is a swim in the sea, Better than a hot lavender bath and a horlicks. I love falling asleep salty but only really seem to manage this on holiday. Which is a good thing really as my hair the next morning should only be shared with strangers.

Then there is the daytime dippers. We are the envy of the 9-5s. We post our swimming smile pictures whilst they are chained to their desks. We are the self employed, the flexible working arrangements, the stay at home parents. We swim in between appointments, meetings and errands at the strangest of times. 10.45am on a Monday anyone? Up to 25 swimmers take you up on the offer.

I am all of the above, I swim solo early in the mornings, in large groups in the daytime and in the evenings with my husband whenever we are away. I change my swim times to suit my mood and my needs. But I always swim. Whether it’s your wake up call to start the day or your wind down after a days labour just GET IN THE SEA

 

 

 

A Tale of Two Swims

My first swim of the day was in the morning at Lifeguard Post Romeo 8 on Brighton Beach. This is just in front of the beautifully restored bandstand. It’s the spot the Seabirds swim from when we do early morning swims as it’s sort of midway between us all and you can avoid the extortionate parking fees at that time in the morning. There were due to be 3 of us on this particular day. It was a 10.30am meet, the tide was going out and it was like a mill pond, as it has been for much of the summer. Perfect conditions for going round the buoys.

The swim area buoys are the signal that it is summer in Brighton. They appear in-front of the 11 Lifeguard posts from Saltdean to Hove Lagoon in May and stay there until September. Unless there is a particularly strong storm where they can end up all over the place. They are placed 100m apart, going out and across 200m. With the growth in outdoor swimming and triathlon popularity they are used by locals to roughly measure the distance of their swims. A couple of the swim areas can resemble the M25 when clubs and groups meet there to clock up some kilometres.

On this particular day we had the swim area almost to ourselves as myself and Seabird Ruth headed out to the first buoy. Between the first and second buoy I was into the usual hypnotic rhythm when I began to hear something from under the water. It was different from the usual close to shore shingle song or the sound of the wake you create. It was a low level hum that just got louder and louder to the point of distraction. At that point I stopped swimming and looked up. I was a couple of metres from the furthest buoy and immediately saw the source of the noise. A speedboat going at a ridiculous speed practically in the swim area, no more than 5 metres from my swim capped head. As you can imagine the driver received the type of verbal assault that would make a salty sea dog blush. He proceeded further into Hove and dropped his anchor right in the middle of the quiet family beaches.

By this time seabird Ruth had caught up and was also using swear words we save for serious safety situations. And then another female swimmer. We proceeded to stop at the buoy to discuss, the proximity of losing my head, machismo, jet skis, idiots but most importantly swim safety. The swim community never ceases to amaze me. 3 women who have just met, sharing stories 200 metres out to sea. We concluded that even though we were within the swim area it would be sensible to wear a swim tow floatas well as our brightly coloured hats. Particularly as some seabird swims are parallel to the beach and leave the swim area although remain in close proximity to the shore.

It spooked me enough to head back in. I’d lost my swim mojo. We joined our third Seabird in the shallows for a frolic instead. We were met on the shoreline by a lovely lifeguard who advised us that she was keeping a careful eye on us and was also outraged at the idiot (insert other word here) driving the boat. She had reported it to the Seafront office and it was registered at the Marina. Unfortunately the Seafront boat hadn’t launched yet to intercept but they would be having a conversation later with the offender to hammer home that inappropriate speed, metres from the swim area was not only stupid and unnecessary but dangerous.

The good news was it was a double dip day and I was due to meet Ian, one of the beach lifeguards for a swim at Romeo 10 in front of the King Alfred swimming pool during his lunch break. Boy was it busy with swimmers. As we entered the water Ian proceeded to tell me that one of the Seafront Coordinators had seen a shark the day before. I laughed it off as a dog fish. We bumped into one of the Swim Trek directors finishing his lunchtime swim in the shallows as we were warming up. It was slack tide so we could swim either way around the buoys and chose to go west to east. At the first buoy Ian decided I needed to do swim drills. So we headed to the furthest buoy with me tapping my head with my hand, next buoy finger drags, next buoy arm pit tapping and so on until we’d completed a circuit.

From a fright to frollicking to swim drills all in one day.

I made the school girl error of enquiring more about the shark spotting. Turns out it was more than a bottom feeding dogfish. 5-6ft and definitely not a cetacean………

AnyBODY can swim

The thing about swimming is anybody can do it. No matter how big or small or able bodied, anybody can get in the water

I love open water swimming. I love the cold. I love the friends I have made. I love the sense of community. I love the tea and cake afterwards. I love the stillness of floating. I love the joy of jumping over waves. I love the calm of being submerged. I love the way I feel post swim. But most of all I love the total and utter rejection of the idea that only certain body types can swim.

The thing about swimming is anybody can do it. No matter how big or small or able bodied. Anybody can get in the water and experience the texture, movement, temperature on their skin. You may need a hoist, or a wheelchair. You may need a flotation device or some one to physically support you. You may not be able to propel yourself through the water but you may be able to float. You may not be able to see it, hear it, smell it or taste it, but you will be able to feel it. Feel the weightlessness, feel the cold, feel the energy of it. However you experience it, anybody can swim.

The Salty Seabirds really are all shapes and sizes. One of the many things I love about our flock is the contagious body confidence that has spread as we strip on the beach in full view of passing tourists, dog walkers and other swimmers. You don’t have time to worry about who can see your bits as you race against the tide and swim shakes to dress your numb stinging body. And contrary to what the name Seabirds suggests, we have some, albeit few, male sea swimmers in our numbers. They have seen ours and we have seen theirs.

Along with body confidence there is a huge amount of body positivity which again is infectious. You would assumed the two go hand in hand but they don’t. I have masses of body confidence, brought up with a practically naturist mother, there were naked bodies constantly on display in my youth. However, I had 2 caesarians which left me loathing a body that had failed at the 11th hour and has left me with a permanent physical reminder. I was unable to see it’s strength at carrying two babies. I had the confidence to be naked but I didn’t have a positive relationship with my body as I focused on the aesthetics and the final few minutes of my pregnancies.

This has changed since sharing swims with the Salty Seabirds. The people I share my swims with have had a profound impact on my relationship with my body. No longer do I measure my body’s strength and success by how many marathons I have run, or how fast but by the everyday things I rely on it to do. How it can get me to the beach to meet my friends. How it adapts to cold water and keeps me afloat. How all of my senses process the sights, sounds and smells of my wild swimming experiences. This is it’s strength and success. It didn’t and doesn’t let me down. People often ask me how I do it? How do I get in water that cold? My response is a kind of shrug. Hopefully not an arrogant or nonchalant one, but definitely a shrug. I have come to take my body’s ability to adapt to the cold sea temperature for granted – it is only when I take a step back and consider what an accomplishment that is, that I can see it’s strength and success. But it isn’t just my body that can do it. Anybody’s can!

Without intention we are pigeon-holed by others and ourselves as a ‘type’ of person from a very early age. Seabird Cath refers to herself as ‘not your typical sporty type’ because she didn’t fall into that category at school. However, she has forged a new relationship with her body since cold water swimming. She is able to see past her previous label and see herself as a resilient sea swimmer which her strong body enables her to be.

How we see ourselves and our bodies has a profound affect on our confidence in its abilities. We are quite literally bombarded with the opinions of others on our bodies from a very early age. From people we know – think elderly relative squeezing our cheeks and calling us chubby, to people we don’t know – think glossy magazines telling us what every celebrity weighs and it is less than us. (This is a particularly pet hate. Unless you are stood in said celebrity’s bedroom looking at the number of the scales they are standing on, how on earth do you know how much they f@?king weigh?)

Two Salty Seabirds Christine and Claudine have come together to create a workshop called ‘Think, Eat, Move’. The ‘Think’ part encourages participants to question how we see ourselves and challenge the media messages of what a body should look like. Once you’ve come to terms with the ‘Think’ you then move onto the ‘Eat’ and ‘Move’ parts. The focus being no good or bad foods but rather fuel for our bodies and no arbitrary goal driven forms of exercise but movement being enjoyable and as a way to look after our bodies so it will look after us later in life.

We weren’t born feeling a certain way about our bodies or focusing on how our limbs, skin and hair look to ourselves and the outside world. Tanya Shadrick spent a season as the writer in residence at Pells Pool. She wrote in long hand on scrolls for her project ‘Wild Patience: Laps in Longhand”, a mile of written word. I had the pleasure of listening to Tanya read an extract one summers evening at Swim Talks hosted by Sea Lanes and it has stayed with me every since. Not only did the smooth velvety tones of her spoken word captivate me but so did her written words as she recalled a time when she was 9 years old, free from being labelled a type she loved herself which she only learnt to do again in her 40s. We all need to be that 9 year old girl again.

I, along with many Salty Seabirds have managed to find our 9 year old selves – she hides herself well and can be really hard to find but if you look for long enough she will appear. At every moon gazey swim, jump through a wave, dive off a jetty – she is right there smiling and screeching happy to be found again. She is able, she is confident, she is positive and she is inside every one of us. Come swim with us and you will find her because anybody can swim!

Author: Seabird Kath

P.S. Read the Tania Shadrick extract – it is incredible – click on this link

Marine Life

Ten years ago Charlotte swam in the sea. Ten years later she has returned to her salty roots. So what has changed?

Guest Article by Salty Seabird Charlotte

Ten years ago I belonged to a different outdoor swimming group. It was a group (of mostly men) who prized distance and speed and endurance above all else. How many times you could swim round the Palace Pier. How rough the waves were. How much you had to battle the current to stay on course. I went through the winter with them (just). I didn’t enjoy it one bit. Once I had to climb up onto the barnacled struts of the Pier to find my breath again, overcome with cold, fatigue and my own overarching ambition. The last time I swam with them I actually had to be dragged out of the sea by another swimmer after I lost my goggles and a contact lens being tumbled in massive unswimmable waves. Nothing like shame to stop you suddenly in your tracks.

And now ten years later, post spinal surgery and at least two stone heavier I have found my love of the sea again thanks to the Salty Seabirds. The last ten years of my life have been about finding boundaries to protect my highly sensitive nervous system. I have realized that I do not like swimming out of my depth. I do not like big waves. I like calm seas. I like splashing about and feeling the sun on my face. I no longer feel the need to push myself to near death experiences in order to feel alive. I do however like connecting with the natural environment and I like the cold. Anything that makes me concentrate on my breath whether it be yoga or sub zero waters brings me into presence. The elusive present. And what a gift for an overactive brain that is. The cold sea brings me resolutely and immediately into my body. I have spent so much of my life not liking my body. My miraculous body that walks and eats and sleeps (most of the time) and dances and has given birth and is infinitely stronger than I think it is. Here again is a way in which the Salty Seabirds has been liberating for me. For our Seabirds come in all shapes and sizes, as diverse and beautiful as gulls and gannets and petrels and shags. And how glorious and released are their bodies in their natural habitat. I never thought I would rejoice in the thought that I am increasing my body’s brown fat (whatever that is). But I do. It is a kind and accepting group. It is community functioning at its best- everyone joined purposefully in a sole pursuit. Our tangential lives intersect for brief moments of escape.  The same faces. New faces. No questions asked. But always the same shared euphoria afterwards. For me I love the sweetness of the post swim walk up the beach. As the cold sinks through my heavy amphibian limbs, as analgesic as that first Friday night gin and tonic. I like sitting among the flotsam of our belongings. Feeling the earth beneath me, looking out to sea, thinking “I was in that”.

Note from Seabirds: We receive such wonderful positive feedback from the Salty Seabirds that affirms the need for a Swimming community group that is fluid and free from constitutions and committees. The Seabirds swim free and cannot be governed by rules and regulations. The Seabird Community are kind, compassionate and inclusive –  the sum of our parts is what makes it work. Charlotte’s experience is all too common but when the time was right we all found each other – our flock.