You can be happy and still feel pain
You can feel free and still hold weight
You can be light, and dark, and grey
You can be joy and simultaneously enraged or nothing at all.
I
You
We
Are not one dimension.
We are several million tiny fractals passing through time on a spinning formation.
Lost in the sky amidst infinite sparks aflame within a universe.
Holding it all.
Photography By @stuv_i_luv
I've been wondering for a long time if this is the life I want to lead. Being there for friends who can't give you what you give them or what you need. Being looked at by people and knowing even if they got to know me, they wouldn't know anything about me because they don't feel as deeply as I do. However, I have learned that every day you don't live the way you would like to, you learn. You learn new limits, you learn new things about yourself. I know that for all the good I give, eventually something will come back, and if not, I know that I was able to help other people. In sports, yoga and especially in the sea I feel like I can escape all the stress, all the worries and all the burdens I carry with me. For me nature is the balance I need, I go surfing and I am free, I lie down on the beach and look at the stars and I am free and I feel so many emotions that I don't talk because I am flooded with energy, free from short thoughts from my world.
Connection, it is something everyone needs. Whether it’s a connection to something, or somewhere, or someone, we thrive off needing it.
For me connection comes in a few different shapes. Being Aboriginal, I need my connection to my Country, to my Land, to my Sea’s and to my Family. Having these connections gives me a sense of purpose but it also gives me my Identity and makes me who I am. It gives me a sense of direction in life and a knowing of what needs to be done to stay whole.
Around 70-80% of people nowadays suffer from mental health issues and for a lot of people, they don’t know what their connection is, they struggle to find it and this leads them to being lost and suffering from mental health issues.
There has to be a way to change this issue surrounding these health issues.
Within Aboriginal communities, mental health issues come at a very high rate due to the ongoing impact of colonisation. Families who have suffered from generations to generations since British invasion have not been able to recover from the trauma, which leaves families unwilling and unknowing passing on these mental health problems to their children.
This cycle needs to be broken, but where and how can it be done when Governments don’t listen to what Aboriginal people and communities want? They are always dictating and imposing what they think we need. How can they know what we need when they haven’t experienced the trauma that we have had to face for over 250 years, when all the Government has done is hide the real truth on how this country was founded?
We need more people to speak up, we need more ally’s to help fight against the system, the system that is broken and set up to fail and diminish Aboriginal people from the moment of invasion.
Stand up
Speak out Loud
Offend your families
Offend your friends
Speak the Truth
And be heard
The more people, the better, it’s how we make a stand
Photo By @gossipgeels
“I don’t know” is said by many, something which I often previously said too. But after learning and understanding the power behind our words, my vocabulary started to shift. When my words and language started to shift, so did my reality. My actions and experiences, the people I attract, the opportunities which present and ultimately, the life I live, changed.
This is powerful. Let me explain, as a coach working with many different people, I am able to stand back and really witness the power of language and communication. Often the most powerfully hit by our words, is ourselves.
Our subconscious mind controls over 95% of what we do, believe, think, speak, our behaviours and actions, and when our language comes from a negative place, negativity seems to follow.
The words “I don’t know” speak to your unconscious mind with meaning and intent. The meaning and intent behind the words speak that you are not worthy of knowing, that the known is not inside you and that finding an answer isn’t in the present moment.
It is not to say that not knowing the answer is wrong, but declaring the words “I don’t know” declares I am not worthy of knowing, that I need to know something that I don’t currently.
Instead, I learnt to look and listen for the answers. Declare that I am worthy of knowing. That in this present moment, all I know and have right now, is exactly what I need.
Not knowing isn’t true for me anymore. I always have the answers within. For me, this moment when I realised the power in holding space and looking internally for answers, instead of externally, allowed me to feel content about the unknown.
The more we create space and learn to listen, the more we become content with the unknown.
I am a woman full of emotion. I let them run wildly through me. Sometimes in control, often out of control.
Upon reflection of what it means to have emotion, I think of one in particular that is important to me.
Happiness. Being happy is important to me. I have spent such a large amount of time in my life searching for this emotion of happiness. What things can I do to make me happy. What can I change about myself to bring upon this emotion. More often than not, I would be left sad. Like many people I fell victim to the phrase ‘I will be happy when’. I would base my happiness in external factors, things I could set out to achieve. But I noticed a reoccurring pattern, when I reached that goal, did I ever really feel happy? No. Maybe for a short amount of time. But I was never truly happy within myself. I had to learn to dig a little deeper. Why was I always searching for this emotion of being happy? Why couldn’t I simply just be happy.
I started to realise, maybe it is as simple as just feeling and embodying the emotion. Maybe you can’t search for happiness. Happiness can never really be found. Searching for happiness means living in the future. When I started to become more present and actually live in the moment, the emotion of happiness naturally begun to take over my entire being. For happiness is a state of mind. Happiness is a choice. Instead of basing my happiness on external factors, I took my happiness inwards. I don’t need to do things, change things or get validation from others to feel this emotion. I simply just have feel it it in the here and now.
Being happy means letting go of control. Living in the moment. I am happy when I focus solely on myself and allow life to flow around me. I can’t control what goes on, but one thing I can control is how I feel. We are super blessed in this world with the freedom of choice. When you can choose to be happy, why would you want to choose to be anything else. I choose happiness because being happy is important to me.
It was summer and I was swimming at sunset. Gliding my body across the water and looking up at the setting sun, I felt completely at ease. I love being surrounded by water as it creates this peaceful energy within me that is unexplainable.
As the sun fell over the horizon and the sky started to darken, I set myself up on a rock and watched the darkness appear all around me. I looked up at the stars and in that exact moment a sense of being truly alive swarmed me and I felt so emotional, tears started to glide down my face. For the first time in my life I felt like I was in control, flashbacks of my younger self started to appear in my mind and I became aware of this similar emotion I felt when I was a child. It was incredible.
I was so aware of how my life had unfolded and how it would unfold if I kept venturing on the same path. It was time to create my life, as if I hadn’t lived for the past twenty years.
I was happily crying, my soul felt like it was being lifted up to the universe. In alignment with the truth of how life now unfolds. This was my awakened moment. A sunset that changed my life.
A feeling of contentment can be as fleeting as any other emotion, yet there seems to be a certain amount of guilt attached to expressing it. I certainly don’t walk around all day, feeling content - neither do I constantly feel happy or sad or frustrated or angry. I have found, that moments of contentment can come from the simplest of things, and don’t cost much money, but they’ve stimulated my senses in such a way, that I have felt very conscience of this heightened emotion. This is probably why these moments often remain vivid in my memory for a very long time.
Swimming in lochs, rivers and the sea, then shivering myself warm with a hot drink, has always made me feel content, but these occasions have usually arisen through necessity, following a long hike or bike ride in the Highlands, when I’ve desperately needed to cool down. It’s often years later, when the memories of toiling up to a peak have faded, leaving only those of the cold water, that I’ve come to appreciate its power.
It can take a special writer and observer, like Nan Shepherd and Roger Deakin to articulate our emotions for us, and reading their books made me more aware of how and why water can have such a profound effect on us. Roger Deakin said of swimming in the wild, “you are in nature, part and parcel of it, in a far more complete and intense way than on dry land”. And Nan Shepherd wrote of Loch A’an in ‘The Living Mountain’, “Then I looked down; and at my feet there opened a gulf of brightness so profound that my mind stopped”.
I have swam on this exact spot in the Cairngorms, described by Nan Shepherd. In fact, I searched it out because of her book, and it had a similar effect on me. It was also the coldest water I’ve ever experienced. The sense of contentment I felt in the moment afterwards, drying myself in the sun, is etched on my memory. We didn’t hike up any peaks that day. The hiking was a means to an end. Exhausting ourselves completely would have only numbed our senses I think.
Moments of contentedness have become even more important over the last 12 months. I’m lucky that we live by the sea, and the daily ritual of ten minutes floating in the water, then warming up with a flask of coffee, is something to look forward to - something to focus on. When there’s no wind, when the sea is calm, when the shivering subsides and the coffee begins to warm me, from the inside out, I often feel utterly content…I have experimented with cold showers and baths, and although, the view is rather limited, they offer many of the same benefits.
I didn't feel like I was enough for a long time. Isn't that sad to write.
I spent my life waiting/ striving to get to this undetermined point in the future where I would be enough. Skinny enough. Pretty enough. Successful enough.
Aiming for a perfect version of myself was exhausting. It took me to a place where I felt discontent, unsettled, frustrated with myself.
I looked for external things to fix the problem. An amazing holiday. A new job. Volunteering. Looking for a new house. Another baby.
It wasn't until I started looking inwards that I began to slowly realise that a full vibrant life (for me) isn't about perfection or things looking a certain way. It's about feeling alive, a sense of freedom (physical & mental) and having a positive impact.
I live my life differently now. Things have changed but the biggest change is not something you can see. It's the realisation that I am enough just as I am.
That's my biggest hope for all children and adults that they are given the opportunity to step away from societal expectations/ pressure to work out who they really are and what they want.
I want to show my three boys what it means to really live. I believe that at the heart of that is knowing that you are enough just as you are.
Still in the “inbetween“ between wake and sleep, I hear raindrops trickling. I hear the cluttering of dishes from afar, speaking on the phone next door.
The images of last nights movie still in my head, lost in thoughts about the past and tomorrows endeavours, I focus myself by writing these words.
And meanwhile it dawns. Everything becomes. I see each moment. I hear each drop. I feel here.
Awake. Now.
We all experienced 2020 differently. Some, if not most of us, struggled in some way. We lost jobs, families, communities, churches, gyms, eating out, playing, and so much more. It felt like the year that so much was taken from us and a year that we all have to overcome something. This was also the year that I’ve felt the most overwhelmed I ever have.
In January of 2020 I got in a major car accident that totaled my car and left me bruised and broken in more ways than one. Not only did I lose my car but I also lost my ability to exercise regularly. I had to go to the chiropractor and massage therapist 2-3 times per week. This being my second accident in two years (both not my fault might I add) I began to suffer from PTSD while driving. I was extra cautious and extra nervous. I have become a really poor passenger as almost everything makes me very paranoid when I am not in control of the vehicle. It has been very difficult to adjust to what driving looks like after the accident.
After that we entered into March, when the world shut down and we were basically told to stay home and do nothing. Covid cases were high and everyone was scared. I was teaching and that looked extremely weird for all of us. So many changes and expectations and for a while there we were told we weren’t even really allowed to go hiking either, my one saving grace when I was down. Most trails and such had been closed.
Then, July 6th came, the one year anniversary of my dad’s death. Grief definitely comes and goes in waves and always comes at the most interesting times. Not when you’re expecting it like on these big anniversaries, but randomly driving in your car while listening to a song. And that’s when it started happening for me. One day I was driving home and became overwhelmed with emotions of sadness from my dad’s passing. That, on top of being in a car and still having issues with driving sent me into a fit of sobbing and the inability to breathe. I quickly realized I needed to pull over as driving was no longer safe. I turned into the Safeway parking lot, reclined my seat, called my mother, and came to the conclusion that I was having a panic attack.
Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the last one and it wouldn’t be the last one while driving either. After a couple panic attacks, the weight of my dad’s death, the effects that Covid had on our lives, the multiple weekly treatments to try and improve my back and neck, the inability to spend as much time outside as I wanted to, all led to the decision to seek therapy. At this point I was truly overwhelmed. Things were getting too hard and I had never had panic attacks before. I wanted to dive deep into what was going on and figure out how I can be whole again. How can I feel safe driving and calm? How can I live with the death of my dad? How can I get through this injury that causes me extreme pain when doing the thing I loved most...hiking?
And so I started therapy and it helped a lot! Things started to get better. My outlook on life started to change. The panic attacks started to go away. Everything in my life didn’t necessarily change or disappear, but I started to accept that this was where I was at and I could be okay with that. Fast forward a few months and I lost my teaching job because of Covid. Just another overwhelming thing in my life. At the time, it was too much. It was terrible for my family and I knew how hard this would make my life. One that I had worked so hard to make sure would be good. I eventually found a temporary work assignment that would last until the students went back to school. A daycare/learning center facility for kids who were participating in distance learning. This landed in my lap at such a perfect time but it definitely was difficult. No structure and no one having any clue what we are doing, we built this learning center from nothing and provided families and kids a place to go and participate in online learning. Although losing my job was overwhelming, good came out of it, and I was able to lean into God and his plan for my life.
To say 2020 was overwhelming is an understatement. In December I finally finished treatment from my accident. I still deal with the grief of losing my dad, but the panic attacks have stopped and I’ve been able to drive most days without any issues. Through all of this the only other thing that kept me sane was being able to go hiking. Spending time in the sunshine and outdoors was what ignited the fire in my soul. It brought me to my knees in gratitude and awe. It allowed me to think and process and be free. Although it’s taken me a really long time to get to this point, and I still sometimes feel pain after a long hike due to my injuries, it was something I continued to do because it was the one constant thing that grounded me. The one thing that wasn’t overwhelming. The only thing I kept coming back to, time and time again. It’s where I see and hear God most clearly. Nature accepts me exactly as I am yet always leaves me better. Through all of these overwhelming things that truly made 2020 a crapshoot (like it had for a lot of people), it’s brought me to one final adventure. I’ll be hiking the PCT in 2021. I’ll take every overwhelming experience from the last year and leave it out on the trail. I hope that you know, whatever life has in store for you there is a reason and there are always lessons to be learned. Although things might seem too heavy to bear and too overwhelming to handle, you can always find your way back to who you are and who you were created to be.
In recent months, I have felt guilty because I - didn't feel very productive, felt more tired than usual, didn't engage with my children so they were back on the screens - again, snacked my way through the day mindlessly, and put on weight, didn't feel energetic, didn't feel like doing much, found it hard to stick to a routine, was grumpy for no reason, didn't wash my hair for a few days, felt lazy and uninspired......and the list goes on and on. Why did I feel guilty about all these things? Is this something we were taught when we were children? Is this something that social media, advertising, society tells us, that we should feel different?
How can we feel different at this time of year, when it's dark and cold, and - like this particular year - we are in lockdown? Why is there an expectation to be in top form and full of energy all the time? Especially in the middle of winter?
When I look at nature on my walks, and the barren fields, the gnarly trees, the lack of colour, I am reminded to let myself be guided by nature.
Because we can't always be blooming, there can't always be summer, warmth, high energy and high spirits.
Nature is resting right now, and so should we.
However, we tend to beat ourselves up when we take it easy, because of the guilt, the expectations, the "look how well everyone else is doing.".
We are all struggling throughout the darker seasons, but we are only struggling because we think we are not meant to rest, to winter, to take it easy. To not beat ourselves up.
Winter is for hibernation - just look at the animals, who eat more, to get through the cold season, look at the trees, that draw back all the sap to the roots, to avoid freezing to death, look at the stillness of a frozen pond.
It's the one time we are allowed to stop fully.
To rest, to reflect on last year's busy summer, to learn from mistakes, to let go of what we no longer need, and to move forward lighter and rested.
Into Spring, when new energy will come, new ideas will flow easier, new light will show the way.
If only we allow ourselves to slow down with the season, and to live life fully with the approaching light.
Nature and it's rhythms, its seasons, it's tides, its flows, they give me comfort: guided by those I manage to let go of the guilt.
Because we are nature.
And it's ok not to feel energetic or productive all the time.
Trust the process, trust nature. Trust yourself.
We all know the impact social media can have on us. It shows a filtered, perfect, glossed over version of other people’s lives. And right now it’s worse. It’s worse because social media accounts for an even larger share of our interactions with other people.
Only seeing others succeed can be difficult, even if what I’m doing is going well. Why am I not doing what this person is doing? Why can’t I do what they are doing? It sends me into a downward spiral, makes me question why I’m doing what I’m doing and why I’m not doing it better than I am.
Why do I even compare myself to others, you may ask. The answer is that I don’t know. The feeling of inadequacy just overwhelms me. No matter how well my things are going, I will eventually find someone who is doing seemingly better than I am. But that also means that I can never escape the spiral. My mind will always find some way to make me think that I am doing less well than others. I cannot win.
The funny thing is that I am well aware that this makes no sense whatsoever. This feeling isn’t rational, which means that I cannot “argue” with it in a rational way. I could simply not expose myself to what other people are doing. Slightly impractical. Besides, I want to be happy for my friends and their achievements!
So what is there to do? I think that there is no cure-all solution but there certainly are strategies that help. For me, two in particular have been useful. It starts by accepting that a lot is out of our control, in particular the outcomes of our efforts. It ends by realising that comparing yourself to others is neither helpful nor justified.
For me, feeling inadequate means thinking that my achievements are inferior to those of others. But does it even make sense to compare yourself on outcomes? A famous golfer was once asked about the role of luck in sport. His answer was - “The more I practice the luckier I get”. For a long time, I understood this quote in the wrong way. What if I’m not lucky? What if I do not succeed? Surely this must mean that I have not practiced enough, that I haven’t worked hard enough. But that is a fundamental misunderstanding. What we can directly affect is practice, not the outcome. Practice is a necessary rather than a sufficient condition. What we must learn is to spend time thinking about practice rather than worrying about the outcome. Because no matter how hard we practice, an element of luck will always be left in determining results.
Once you realise that outcomes are to a certain extent out of our control, you also realise that comparing yourself based on outcomes does not make sense. Besides, it is also unfair on yourself and others. I cannot affect what others are doing and to a large part I also cannot affect how “successful” I am. What I can do is make sure that I enjoy what I do. To make sure I put in as much as I can. It may be that for whatever reason that doesn’t mean I’ll succeed at what I’m doing. That the outcome is not the best. That someone else is doing better in a certain way. But that does not mean that what I am doing is inadequate. It does not mean that I am inadequate.
Since having a child, my perspective on life has undoubtedly shifted. One thing stands out, and it all started with a conversation I had with a friend not very long ago. They asked:
“What did you want to be when you were growing up?”
I knew exactly what she meant: an author, a vet, a bar manager (really), a teacher. It never occurred to me until I was nearly 30 that the answer was blindingly obvious. Didn’t we all want to be happy?
As children, in Western society at least, we are brought up believing that our job defines us. From an early age we are pushed into choosing a profession; but shouldn’t we be focusing on wellbeing? If my little girl wants to be rich or ambitious or influential or clever that’s up to her, but right now all I want for her is to be happy, creative, fulfilled, loved, empowered. If she can achieve those things, I have no doubt that she’ll be successful in whatever way she chooses.
I’ll be back
When I got pregnant, I was always the person at work who would be coming back. I left my belongings in a box under my desk and worked up until five days before I gave birth. I had received some brilliant training and opportunities through my workplace, and I was genuinely inspired by my colleagues. My team was exciting, dynamic, creative, fun and driven. I couldn’t imagine not working with them for a whole year. I had boasted early on that I’d be back within months. I felt that I had found a role where I genuinely contributed to a wider cause, a cause that I believed in.
A few months into maternity leave, it became clear that changes were afoot. I knew from several colleagues that restructures were happening. My role was disappearing, and I was being encouraged into another department – all dressed up as an ‘exciting opportunity’. Within my current team, roles were being created and people earmarked. Everything was technically above-board HR-wise, but not-so-secret conversations had taken place and promises were being handed out like candy.
“Ungrateful”
Sparing you the details, in short, thanks to some strong and loyal friendships, I became aware of excruciating unfairness in the way I was being treated. My existing job had been re-styled under a different title with a higher salary, and provisionally offered to someone else. My boss was leaving, too; they were replaced within a week with an internal appointment. Whilst I was told that I could apply for these roles if I ‘really wanted’, the timeframes made it untenable and I knew I’d be knocked back. Bluntly, I was being side-lined because I was unable and unwilling to come back to work immediately. And these were women, some of them mothers, who were doing this.
I remember this as a dark patch in my life. All I wanted was to pour my love into my family, and instead I was forced to confront the painful truth that many women do: children or work? Career or family? I made one last attempt to plead my case and, very politely, stand up for myself. The whole meeting was combative. I was meant to be meeting with one director, but two showed up. My own boss was on annual leave and forbidden from attending or contributing. I was outflanked, outnumbered, told to “prove it”. And then, to my face, they called me “ungrateful”.
Ungrateful. That cut me to the core, broke me. I had received little more than statutory maternity pay, although it was dressed up as if they were doing me a favour. I had worked over my hours every
week since I started. I had never taken a day off sick, as if that was something to be proud of. I felt I had done well. But there it was: ungrateful.
I’m better than this
I returned home sobbing and exhausted. As I hugged my little girl so tightly, I vowed that no one would ever make me feel like this again. I was better than this. She was better than this.
Sending my email resignation was the most empowering moment of my life. I remember laughing, radiating joy, my heart pounding at this act of selflove and defiance. I had put everything in place to go freelance, including two clients already lined up with big projects about to start. It was a risk, but I would still be doing a job I loved and I was willing to put the time and effort in to make it work.
Self-employment has not been without hiccups. I was one of the ‘Excluded’ three million who didn’t get any government support or furlough in 2020 or 2021 when my workload dipped dramatically. Through good fortune, creativity and the support of some amazing organisations I have been able to rebuild this. I now work about fifteen hours a week less than I used to. My life isn’t dominated by irrelevant emails or meetings or box ticking. I earn more. I made up my own job title. I don’t get holidays, sick pay or a pension, but because I am empowered, I never feel resentful.
Who, when, how much?
I love motherhood. No one tells you how fun it is to have a child. I hope that I can be the role model my baby girl needs, not an exhausted mother clawing her way up just to prove she is good enough.
I now look back on my time working for that employer fondly. I have made some lifelong friends and I received some incredible opportunities. I was part of something. I made things happen. They supported me in writing a book. I can only talk more openly now because most of the people involved have moved on and thus, I hope, things have changed for the better.
I don’t believe the trials I faced were personal or vindictive, more clumsy and a product of a toxic workplace culture that many of us recognise. We are too often judged by our timesheets, not the quality of our work or our ability to make decisions. Gameplaying rewards the extroverts, the charmers; the introverted pragmatists struggle, labelled as troublemakers for asking legitimate questions. I know now that I couldn’t have progressed whilst being happy as a mother.
Many people forget that a job is just that: a job. It isn’t you. You can aspire to be more successful, to make a difference, to earn more money, but it shouldn’t define you. You can do a job you hate and still be happy if it pays you enough to do the things you love. You can do a job you love and be miserable. Jobs are transactional. An employer needs something doing and they pay you to do it. When you venture into the world of gratitude, we reward those who are willing to be unhappy, who want to be defined by their title or who have the flexibility to meet unrealistic expectations. When you reward overtime and not outputs, you get dangerously close to discrimination.
My mantra now is taken directly from Pretty Woman: “I say who, I say when, I say how much.” When I feel tired and overwhelmed, I remember that every job I undertake and every decision I make is a choice. I can choose to say no, although I never have to. Understanding that you have a choice is the most empowering thing of all.
And I choose to be happy.
Lucy McRobert is a wildlife storyteller. Her first book, 365 Days Wild (2019) offers ways to make nature part of your life every day. She is a columnist for Birdwatch magazine and has written for BBC Wildlife, Bird Watching, The I News, and the acclaimed Seasons (Elliott & Thompson, 2016). In 2015, she was 38th on BBC Wildlife’s first wildlife power list and was the researcher on Tony Juniper’s What Nature does for Britain (2015). She co-founded the youth nature network, A Focus On Nature. Lucy freelances as an editor, writer, communications consultant and campaigner, and is a qualified BDMLR marine mammal medic.
Clutch in, change gears, change feet and step on accelerate. One breath. Check blind spot 17 times, turn indicator on. One breath. Fail to change lanes out of fear. One breath. My hands start to shake and sweat from gripping onto the steering wheel so tight that my pinky finger starts to spasm. Changing gears becomes an uncoordinated dance resulting in everyone around me hearing the awful sounds as I accidentally rev my car in utter panic. My mouth is dry and my breathing is short and shallow. I turn the music down to help me concentrate but that only turns up the sound of my thumping heart in my ears to a point where the ringing is unbearable.
What if I crash? What if I just let go of the steering wheel? What if I stop breathing and pass out while on this highway? What if someone dies in an accident I caused? How long have I not been paying attention to the road? I’ve always been a confident, responsible & competent driver, so why can’t I manage to drive this road that I’ve been down a hundred times before without feeling like the world is going to end if I make one wrong move?
My panic attacks have always come at the most inopportune moments. Like when I need to drive to a appointment I might be late for, going shopping for 1 item in a shopping mall, swallowing the bite of food I just took at a restaurant with friends, answering phone calls even though I can see the caller ID, collecting a package I specifically ordered, the list goes on... Out of all my panic attacks, the ones I get while driving are the scariest, and rightfully so. There is a fear that something could go wrong and have life threatening consequences. It’s a mundane task most people don’t think about twice but for me, it feels like I’m dressed in red about to go into the ring with a very angry bull.
I’ve developed coping mechanisms & techniques to manage my panic attacks, but they do still get out of control even after countless hours of exposure therapy. I’ve learnt how to outrun the bull most days, but I know that I’ll have to go into that ring every day for the rest of my life. It is exhausting but getting to know the bulls in the ring is half the battle won.
It's a dull cold morning on the North coast of Scotland. I’m packing up the van with boards and wetsuits. My hands are numb while a harsh, icy wind blows through me. I spent the evening before, examining the forecasts and charts but the conditions weren’t looking promising. However I was determined to go surfing so I picked a spot that could have potential and started driving.
Its often hard to stay inspired and connected with yourself and your surroundings- especially in the cold, dark winters- but ever since I caught the surfing bug, it gave me this endless drive and passion to make the most of everyday no matter what.
As I made my way along the coast, my surroundings slowly started getting covered with a beautiful blanket of snow. The roads were quiet as everyone was hibernating in their warm houses. I caught glimpses of the sea which appeared to be choppy with very little signs of any swell, and i started to accept that a surf was probably not on the cards.
I turned off onto an icy dirt track and eventually reached my destination. My friend Sheila had already arrived and we made our way up and over the sand dunes to finally check the conditions. We paused and watched the waves for 5 minutes. It didn’t look great…But gathering all the motivation I had within me I stripped my warm layers off and battled into my wetsuit. With hot water we defrosted our boots and gloves, slid them on and ran down to the water with our biggest surfboards.
Without hesitating I paddled out into the river which started floating me out to sea- along with big chunks of ice!. This little corner of the coast was totally sheltered from the wind and perfect wee waves were rolling in, while bigger lines of swell were appearing on the horizon. Suddenly it felt like everything was coming together. As soon as I got in position, a lovely wall of water picked me up and I flew all the way back to the shore. This instantly lit an energy inside me and I paddled back out and caught wave after wave after wave. Sheila was just over from me also in sync with the rhythm of the waves- Theres’ no better feeling than being connected with the uncontrollable elements around you. Every now and again we’d exchange smiles and chat about how lucky we are!
No one else was around, just us and the wonderful river, waves and hills. Everything felt so still. Then thick white flakes started falling from the sky! We continued surfing through the snow storm, occasionally pausing to take it all in.
I often find my best surfs- and moments in general- happen when I don’t expect it. I caught my final wave in, savouring every sweet moment and then walked back up through the dunes. Any doubts and worries were left behind, floating out to sea.
My time is now. I’m being punished for the decisions I’ve made. The world is against me and against my connection to the country I love and have dreamed of living in since I was a first grader. The world doesn’t want me to explore its beautiful hidden gems and taste its many different cultured foods and meet people from every corner of life.
Everything was in my way; School, work, relationships, money, time, sickness but mostly excuses.
I worked for 7 years in an industry that cares mainly about profit rather than its people. I was unheard, working long hours, choosing work over time with family and friends, I was invisible until the days I turned up late in the mornings because I had worked late into the evenings. Tired, bullied, too young, please believe me I tried so hard. I wanted to implement changes for the better, I wanted to show that we had best interests at heart and that we cared. I truly loved the elderly I worked for. Three companies in the same industry later, working my way up so I can be the decision maker, a failed 7 year relationship with my partner at the time, severely underweight, marginally unhappy, the backstabbing and the bullying is enough. I quit. I was offered a demotion and told I would keep my same pay, honestly I’ve never wanted so much less money in my life. All my body breaking work and they still think it’s about money? No thank you.
I went to work for another company in the same industry, but at a lower position where my name would hardly come up. I mostly kept to myself, but did meet some wonderful people and learnt a lot. They helped me towards my goal. Get out of home and travel the world, move to Ireland. They encouraged me and they supported my dreams. It’s now two years later, I’m across the other side of the world, so close, but further than ever.
The decisions I’ve made, the choices I am living with, have lead me to where I am now. Not Ireland. I am sad, I am hurting, lockdown is turning me into a pessimist, this isn’t me. I feel guilty for thinking I’ve made all the wrong decisions, taken the wrong roads and options available to me at times. Was I supposed to stay in the industry and work harder? Until I was the decision maker and I could change lives for the better? I could implement more to make people believe everything was going to be ok? Did I give up on them too soon? Was I supposed to continue on my own path to Ireland and not follow the one that took me to Scotland? Every time, I’ve pushed my wants and needs aside for others, because I always want to do right by others. Does the universe think that was my way of saying I don’t need my dreams too? Is that the signal I’ve sent?
You can laugh and say it’s silly, it’s just another country dear girl, you’ll get there eventually. But I should have been there already. Have you wanted something for 22 years and finally gotten off your butt to make it happen, made it so close to having it in your hands only for it to be ripped away right in front of your eyes? This is my dream we’re talking about, this is the intense connection I feel to that land we call Ireland. This isn’t something you laugh at.
I lay awake most nights wondering if I’m being punished for something I’ve done, said, or something I didn’t do. If there’s something else I’m supposed to be doing. It’s getting harder everyday, with lockdown and restrictions confining me to this one place. I am a traveller. This isn’t right. My feet should not be rooted like a tree, they should be wandering.
My partner, bless him, gets me out of the house as often as possible. Has helped me through so much and still does everyday. Has taught me that yoga is a release and a time of meditation that really does help clear the mind for a short time. All it comes down to at this stage is that I just have to hold on to a sliver of faith that I’ll get where I need to be.
Deep down I know I’m not being punished. Not that these actions make me a good person but I recycle and I beach clean and never litter, I talk people through their problems, I cook sensibly and never waste. I use vegan products and I care deeply for the environment. Sometimes it just feels that way, it takes small gestures and reminders to let me know I’m not a bad person that has made terrible mistakes and am now paying the consequences. I’m just a person who tries her best and will one day have her, my, dream put first, that’s all there is.
It’s been like this for a little while, lonely. Although I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing. You can still be lonely when surrounded by people or the loneliness that comes from being alone. I’ve recently found it’s a bit of both and although I am now at a place where I am embracing these feelings, there are days I’m unsure in these uncertain times but luckily can speak to my family.
I take myself for walks, I sit at night, I show myself music, films, books, I laugh at my daft quirks and I’m quite particular about how my bed is made so at least it’s just me making it. I talk to my dog, she is the best listener and I’ve really fallen in love with baking. I treat myself to coffee and I give myself a hug in the form of a warm pastry on a Saturday morning.
At the moment, I’m trying to figure out my new purpose and creative direction. Life is both an exciting and unknown journey but these are challenging times. I try reminding myself of the different challenges others face and tell myself that everyone’s days are full of ups and downs, it’s all part of the ride and it’s important for your wellbeing that you don’t forget that. It’s easy to criticise yourself but don’t be too hard on yourself, just do the best you can one day at a time. Sometimes, I really do need to try and take my own advice, I am my worst critic even in the best of times and when you have had a list of ambitions and goals as high as the roof tops set for yourself, all changed by recent events it can lead you to overthink, to worry, to doubt yourself and the future which can be incredibly hard to pull yourself back from doing...but you can do it.
The past few months have been about healing, tackling my worries head on and facing the reality of ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ to actually accepting and coping when those things do happen. It’s been a time of really digging deep and becoming the best version of myself, being kinder to myself and kinder to those around me. Realising that if I can handle the loneliest of times then really I can handle pretty much anything going forward and you can too, these times are not forever. On the days you’re feeling anxious or a little bit lost then try to wrap up and take yourself to the beach, a walk, even pull on those running shoes and pound the pavement or just take it easy and treat yourself to a pastry, it gets easier.
The time on my car’s dash-board read 5:30am. The sky outside was still dressed in its evening colours. The summer’s day heat was simmering on the horizon; bubbling and boiling like the early morning sun on its ascent into the sky. A lingering taste of black coffee brewed on my lips and, rubbing my hands together (anticipating the cold water to come), I reminisced over the warm clutch I had held around my reusable cup.
The only sound to break the stillness of nature were the waves which lapped at the shoreline… and, stepping out from my car, slipping into my swimsuit, I sunk my feet in the soft-shelled beach. A sweet, almost tangy smell of salt and kelp hung heavy and thick in the stillness of the early-dawn… I stood small, feet buried deep in the ground, staring out at the far-stretched ocean; surrounded by no-one else, alone, yet, in the company of nature.
I closed my eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled… And then, ran full-speed into the water. The hairs on my skin set off like a wild-fire; the water burnt momentarily, but after adjusting to the cold I lay on my back, floating, bobbing, staring out at the sky above. I inhaled. I exhaled. Inhaled… and exhaled.
I felt alive, I was alive.
Being present is being in a moment of calm and focus and in which you are immersed in your surroundings and fully attentive on that which is immediately before you. Easier said than done I find.
We are constantly encouraged to be present and mindful, to live in the moment and to not let the “now” pass you by in anticipation of the future. However, the stresses of everyday life, commitments, obligations and tasks we have to complete make this a challenging task. Even when things are a bit less manic and we have more time than usual, an experience many of us have had during the recent pandemic, the apparent mundanity and beardom of the present moment often leave us thinking about better things to come rather than focussing wholly on what we are experiencing now.
When I think of times that I have been most present, I think of times in which my attentions is demanded rather than consciously sought out. For example, the crucial moments of clipping into a piece of gear whilst rock climbing or the focus of paddling over a wave whilst surfing or the attention and precision required when playing an instrument. In these moments I find my mind is wholly focused on the present moment and I am fully present. This, however, is largely out of necessity. If you let the mind drift off at these moments you are almost certain to fail, whether that be taking a big fall, taking a wave on the head or making a mistake in the music. I’ll call these moments of ‘necessary presence.’ These moments are indeed highly rewarding, they allow the completion of challenging tasks and give you the benefits of forgetting the outside world even if it is just for a moment. However, I only find myself appreciating these moments of presence fully after they have happened. Perhaps that is what being present means? Perhaps we can never be fully present if we are consciously trying to be?
There are those who advocate meditation and mindfulness as a means of becoming present and of living in the now. These are tasks undertaken for the purpose of becoming present and thus can be called moments of ‘conscious presence.’ Personally, I find these moments much harder to achieve but when you are able to consciously become focused on the present moment, it is immensely calming.
In the grand scheme of things, it is easy to be present when it is immediately required of us, when it is necessary. However, it is a whole different thing being present when it is far easier not to be. For example, right now. I think everyone is finding it hard to be present at the moment. For the fortunate majority of us not working on intensive care wards or seeing the immediate impact of the pandemic, this period of time has largely been one of loneliness and beardom. There is often very little that requires us to be present and to be honest most of us don’t want to be living in the now because the now isn’t that great at the moment.
There does seem to be a certain pressure that requires us to be present all the time and I don’t think that is necessarily healthy. Whilst being present is highly rewarding and makes us appreciate every moment as it passes, there is something valuable too in letting the mind wander, letting our imaginations go and thinking of happier times when the present moment isn’t too great. I suppose what I am trying to say is don’t feel like you have to present all the time, it is hard work. Where I find moments of presence becomes useful is when I start to feel stressed and overcome with external pressures, obligations and deadlines. These are the times when I feel I need to just pause and ground myself and seek out a moment of presence. Most of the time though, I think letting the mind wander is no bad thing.
Solace. I like this word. Comfort or consolation in a time of sadness or distress. Don’t get me wrong I’m very fortunate to not experience great distress or sadness very often, this isn’t a story about that. It’s about making your life just a little bit better. Solace for me came to me in many forms over the course of the pandemic, however the strongest came from my discovery of wild swimming. A journey I have been unconsciously on my entire life. My love for being submerged into another world I’ve always been chasing.
Solace for me is realising what makes me happy and then actively adding those things into daily life, to form an escape or sanctuary for myself. This became real when I set myself the challenge to wild swim everyday of October 2020. It had been a long year, where I had rediscovered the importance of nature, when in lockdown in the countryside. I knew I needed something that would reignite my passion for the world, and as a photographer, create some inspiration in nature. I was inspired by Nick Pumphrey and Mike Guest’s ‘Dawn Days of May’ project and felt that making a routine and persevering with this would make me understand the real effects of wild swimming.
Only recently have I discovered the community that surrounds wild swimming. Over the course of the month I met some beautiful friends, two of whom became my Scottish wild swimming tour guides, taking me to so many different locations all within half an hour from Edinburgh. It was amazing to discover all that my local part of Scotland has to offer, in the form of lochs, rivers, forests, without forgetting the ocean, only a 20-minute cycle from my house. I’m definitely a nature soul, so the few hours I spent in these secluded Eden’s would really recharge me. I find it interesting comparing swimming when with people, to solitary swims; both needed in the journey of wild swimming, however, the sense of community around swimming is delightful. The bravery, peacefulness and respect for nature, shared by wild swimmers makes them a unique breed.
Wild swimming to me was a solace in a bad year, however now it is also a form of escapism. A time to be 100% present in the moment and actively make each day that goes by mean something. I’ve swam in rain, hail, wind and ice but I’ve always felt a million times better afterwards. I like putting myself out of my comfort zone, being uncomfortable is where I grow and feel good. I love immersing myself in nature. In grounding myself, yet feeling as free as a bird, or more appropriately as free as a fish.
Recently however my cold-water dips have been limited due to the recent lockdown. So, I’ve been having to find solace in reading waterlog by Roger Deakin. The way he writes about water and wild swimming if next to none, so thought I would end with some of his quotes, to hopefully explain the beauty of swimming from a someone who really knows how to.
“When you enter the water, something, like a metamorphosis happens. Leaving behind the land, you go through the looking glass surface and enter a new world in which survival, not ambition or desire, is the dominant aim.”
“When you swim, you feel your body for what it mostly is – water – and it begins to move with the water around it. No wonder we feel such sympathy for beached whales; we are beached at birth ourselves. To swim is to experience how it was before you were born.”
An ode to the fellow thalassophile’s out there.
(I just discovered that word, meaning “a lover of the sea” from the Greek word “thalassa” meaning “sea”)
