How Lucky are we to have the Sea

On Word Mental Health Day 2021 we reflect on how the sea has been our sanctuary over the last year.

The wellness affect of being in the water produces an almost weekly article in The Guardian. Our shelves are full of books that focus on the mental heath benefits of taking a dip in cold water year round. Our Social Media feeds are full of swim smiles. So when our sanctuary was taken from us at a time when we needed it most……….

At the height of the pandemic we were instructed to leave the house for an hour a day, stay local to home and only meet one other person outside our family group. Fine for us. We are lucky enough to have the sea on our doorstep and each other. For others lidos and lakes closed. Those that travelled to their swim spots were unable to access them. Rural residents pleaded for people to stay away from their rivers and waterfalls, afraid of the impact to their limited medical services. A backlash began against outdoor swimmers, branding them as selfish, risking the lives of those tasked with saving them should they they get into difficulty.

And then the resentment and judgement started within the outdoor swimming community. People started meeting in groups when they weren’t meant to. Particularly on the beach and in the sea. We had to close down the Salty Seabird Community group as people’s different behaviours and outlooks caused a huge divide amongst swimmers. Our community of kindness, we’d spent so much time fostering, was suddenly gone, just like that.

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Cath’s Story

Lockdowns really made me realise that sea is my everything and I how thankful I am both to live near it and that I had discovered it in time to cling on to it through the pandemic and beyond. I don’t know what I would do without it – it’s the light and fun and the thing to look forward to in my day or week. Feeling the solidarity with the extended swimming community – and meeting with small groups or just one swim mate when possible, got me through lockdowns and is still keeping me going now.

Before I discovered that I loved sea swimming and hanging out on the beach in all weathers with likeminded salty souls there is nothing that can really equate to it – I have other interests (honest!) but nothing that is so sustaining and makes such a huge difference to my mental health on a daily basis and lifts me up so effectively. I felt so hugely grateful to have sea swimming in my life and have often wondered how the hell I would  managed without it (how?!).

It works so well for us we want others to discover it so it can be their ‘thing that gets them through stuff’ too. As it gets colder I am looking forward to the Sea, my Salties and some shows from the starlings getting me through the next winter. 

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Kath’s Story

When the world came to an end, at least it felt like it was coming to an end, I was convinced I would spiral down into an all familiar depressive episode. But I didn’t. In fact I embraced it. We weren’t allowed out of homes apart from an hour a day. It was like Armageddon was happing in right in in front of us, like something out of a Hollywood movie. Yet I seemed to thrive. I didn’t have to make excuses about not going out anymore, I could, in fact, stay in. And in my allocated hour a day I could go to the beach and swim in the sea.

But it didn’t last long. Because everybody else started to get the same idea. The Brighton and Hove residents with no gardens to speak of headed to the same spaces. Places that had long been my quiet places, my solitude spaces. Everybody headed for the beach, walking along the prom. There wasn’t even space in the sea.

But still no much expected breakdown. I just kept going and going and suddenly a year had gone by and still I kept going. And then I broke. The constant low level anxiety, of not knowing what was going to happen next, dealing with so many changing on such a regular basis finally got the better of me. Nothing major, nothing big, but consistent low level fear. It eroded every last bit of resilience I had left, slowly but surely, until I realise I wasn’t ok. I wasn’t sleeping. I was barely functioning. It was time to go to the doctor.

I think I had managed to keep going for so long because of sea swimming. Sea swimming has been the stable grounding that has been constantly part my life. Before, during and will be after the pandemic. Yes it was different, yes I couldn’t swim as part of a community but I could still go to the beach and get in the sea. The minute you finished your swim you were expected to get dressed and leave the beach before officials in hi vis jackets told you to move along.

But unlike so many others, I still had the sea. It was still there. And now it’s getting colder I’m full of excited anticipation of swims to come.

Salty Seabird’s Story

The hardest part for us both was closing the community group, albeit temporarily. But with such polarised approaches to government guidelines we were left without a choice. We had a duty of care to the wellbeing of all in our group, many of whom were shielding and/or were deeply affected by the pandemic, to not parade pictures of packed beaches. Swimmers found other ways to meet in large groups. We understood that everyone had their own path to follow during the pandemic but we had a responsibility to stay within the guidelines. The regular swim meets and our monthly moon swims were no more. And that was hard. Really hard. Particularly as others continued to swim at our swim spots under our name. And since we are allowed to meet again in numbers many of the flock have not returned.

We opened back up just as the sea began to warm up again before the summer. It’s not the same and it never will be again. But the constant cake and kindness can still be found on Brighton’s beaches and in the sea. New swimmers can still reach out and ask for company. We are looking forward to the camaraderie that is formed in cold water as the temperatures begin to drop.

We remain as constant as the sea, we change with the seasons, tides and currents but we are still there. How lucky are we. Now go get in it!

Stormy Waters

There are lots of things I do to manage my mental heath. Medication. Rest. Swimming in the sea. I also never give up on searching for the feeling of happiness. But I can’t do this on my own. Whilst depression steals my happiness anxiety robs me of the ability to do new things, meet new people and visit new places. Despite my anxiety, I love finding new swim spots and experiencing new adventures. They bring me so much joy. Fortunately, for the last 33 years I’ve had Ferg, my husband, who makes all of this possible.

When lockdown happened everybody was affected. Not being able to move freely, explore and travel impacted the whole world. My husband, who normally travels for work, was now in the house 24/7. Initially this was a blessing. Unable to leave the house due to the sheer number of people walking in my once out-of-the-way footpaths and swimming on my once quiet secluded beaches, he walked the dog, went to the supermarket and ran the errands. Sounds great right? And it was initially. But here’s the thing about anxiety and depression, to function you have to face them. Not without help and never alone but you have to push through the anxiety and go outside to remind your battered brain that you will come to no harm. Once outside, you will experience the happiness and joy that only the natural world can bring. The problem was, we were now in a pattern. And not a healthy one. One that caused resentment, frustration and a lot of anger. We were navigating stormy waters.

Like any couple, we’ve weathered a lot of storms over the past 3 decades. Life’s monumental moments, marriage, having kids and buying a home, bring a lot of joy, but also a lot of stress. I don’t deal with stress very well and Ferg takes the brunt of my mental health moods. We’ve had times in the past when we have co-existed and tolerated each other rather than supported one another and said sorry. But in more recent years he has tried to understand my mind more, created a safe space for me to just be and been the entire support crew for every decision, idea, and plan I come up with. He is unable to sit and be still, he needs to be doing and so is happy to go where my plans take him. He enables me to find happiness and that makes him happy. That was until my decisions, ideas and plans were all put in jeopardy by a bloody pandemic. Lock down was challenging my marriage.

During the last 6 months the even keel that he and I have worked so hard to achieve was listing. There are too many to mention reasons for this, some are circumstantial, some are my fault, some are his. But suffice to say my mental health was taking a battering and therefore so was he. Our usual time away trips provide an opportunity for us to really check in with each other but these were cancelled. The only trip on the horizon was the Swim Wild UK Highland Gathering weekend in Scotland. He was only coming to keep me company and provide me with the confidence to join in with a swimming weekend. At home he doesn’t swim with me, but when we are away he indulges me. But this was altogether the next level. A whole weekend with cold water swimmers. He was coming to make me happy. And then, that too, was cancelled.

As my mental health deteriorated and my mood continued to spiral downward I didn’t go to the Doctors. Far be it for a trained professional to tell me that I probably needed to up my medication. I was self-medicating with wine instead because of course that’s a real mood lifter! My marriage and me were in the doldrums.

It’s hard to pinpoint when the tide turned. A sequence of events, a conscious effort, small adaptations. I think it was all of these. We stopped drinking and began to go outside again together. To the beach and the sea. On Saturdays we’d go for long walks with picnic lunches. As lock down lessened we moved further afield. There isn’t a beach in Sussex we haven’t visited over the summer months. We, like most couples, are at our best when we leave our responsibilities behind and really spend time together. So, we still went to Scotland. The event was cancelled but we still had our accommodation booked.

We spent three blissful days out of range and undisturbed in a Shepherd’s Hut in the Cairngorms. The River Spey’s fast flow could be heard from our cosy raised bed and we spent time easily together in a breathtaking part of the world. We have been north of the border many times but this trip was more than much needed. It was the piece of the puzzle we didn’t know was missing.

It’s an easier task for him to find my happy when we are away from the world and I am near water. He spends a lot of time watching me in the sea or searching beaches for treasure. In Scotland, we walked around deep dark lochs, found lochans of lily pads and clambered over rocks on the edge of fast flowing gorges and waterfalls. We spent our evenings in the river. I’ve never known cold like it and this was summer! Although this is my natural habitat, being submerged in cold water, it is not his. But he does it to find my happy. (We found his happy on a big beach break in the North Sea. As long as there is a warm wave, there is a smile on his face.)

We left Scotland with heavy hearts but a lightened load. Spending time together is something we’d stopped doing whilst we were forced under one roof. Unable to escape each others sighs. Unable to hear what the other was saying. Unable to see past our our situations. But being at our worst as a couple makes you appreciate each other when you are at your best. We are at our best when it’s just the two of us, wide open space and of course water. And Ferg makes this possible.