This piece of writing was so visceral. You have such a way with words, I’m right there with you. I felt myself panicking at you trying to catch your breath (that word again).
You brought back memories of me as a child. I’ve always loved the seaside, and was a strong swimmer. In the summertime we’d have a vacation in my great aunties bungalow, 4 adults and 9 children and a dog. It was the happiest times and the worst of times. (So much cousin conflict!) Every day I’d swim in the sea. Every photo from that time a gappy grin, with goggles on and seaweed in the hair.
As I got older, probably 11/12, I became concerned and consumed with negative thoughts about my body. My widening hips, body hair and growing pains. I stopped going in the sea so much. I cared too much about what other people were thinking about me. Instead I stayed with the four adult women on the beach and heard more stories about family members and sharing a portion of chips because “a moment on the lips....”
Roughly 6 years ago, I went on a holiday to Croatia. I got back in the sea. I went to the beach with a non judgemental friend, nice and early, so no one would see my stretch marks and cellulite. As I descended into the water felt a sigh of relief. I floated onto my back and looked up at the sky and thought I’d there is a higher power, being held like this, looking up at the expanse, this is probably it.
After that holiday I resolved to swim more. But the exact words rolling about my head these past months have been how my passions and curiosities have all become theory.
I call myself a reader but I stare at a pile of unread books. I call myself a writer but don’t prioritise it. I tell everyone I love the sea and I used to be a swimmer but do nothing about it. And yet.....as well as the exhaustion from the pandemic, parenting young children, navigating a diagnosis of fibromyalgia, trying to heal past trauma....anything new feels, a lot. I know I’m rendered stationary with my pursuits because I’m fearful but also because it feels safe.
But your writing, it was a reminder that being in the sea, even being by the sea is also the seed on an idea that I must tend to. She represents all the versions of me I’ve been and she doesn’t care. She welcomes me as I am and never ever lets me down in all her unpredictability. She washes away who I think I need to be and demands authenticity. The sea for me is pure freedom.
Louise, this is beautiful. I love that this brought up such happy childhood memories. Also, I very well remember the phase of parenting young children. I'm well beyond that and have teenagers now and am just starting to add more new things to my life again. It's easy to forget how all-consuming parenting can be (especially of young kids, especially when navigating illness or processing trauma, or being broke, or working, or a host of other life stuff). There is just little room for anything else. It's not an excuse, it's reality. I love your last paragraph and the grace you extend to yourself.
This piece of writing was so visceral. You have such a way with words, I’m right there with you. I felt myself panicking at you trying to catch your breath (that word again).
You brought back memories of me as a child. I’ve always loved the seaside, and was a strong swimmer. In the summertime we’d have a vacation in my great aunties bungalow, 4 adults and 9 children and a dog. It was the happiest times and the worst of times. (So much cousin conflict!) Every day I’d swim in the sea. Every photo from that time a gappy grin, with goggles on and seaweed in the hair.
As I got older, probably 11/12, I became concerned and consumed with negative thoughts about my body. My widening hips, body hair and growing pains. I stopped going in the sea so much. I cared too much about what other people were thinking about me. Instead I stayed with the four adult women on the beach and heard more stories about family members and sharing a portion of chips because “a moment on the lips....”
Roughly 6 years ago, I went on a holiday to Croatia. I got back in the sea. I went to the beach with a non judgemental friend, nice and early, so no one would see my stretch marks and cellulite. As I descended into the water felt a sigh of relief. I floated onto my back and looked up at the sky and thought I’d there is a higher power, being held like this, looking up at the expanse, this is probably it.
After that holiday I resolved to swim more. But the exact words rolling about my head these past months have been how my passions and curiosities have all become theory.
I call myself a reader but I stare at a pile of unread books. I call myself a writer but don’t prioritise it. I tell everyone I love the sea and I used to be a swimmer but do nothing about it. And yet.....as well as the exhaustion from the pandemic, parenting young children, navigating a diagnosis of fibromyalgia, trying to heal past trauma....anything new feels, a lot. I know I’m rendered stationary with my pursuits because I’m fearful but also because it feels safe.
But your writing, it was a reminder that being in the sea, even being by the sea is also the seed on an idea that I must tend to. She represents all the versions of me I’ve been and she doesn’t care. She welcomes me as I am and never ever lets me down in all her unpredictability. She washes away who I think I need to be and demands authenticity. The sea for me is pure freedom.
Louise, this is beautiful. I love that this brought up such happy childhood memories. Also, I very well remember the phase of parenting young children. I'm well beyond that and have teenagers now and am just starting to add more new things to my life again. It's easy to forget how all-consuming parenting can be (especially of young kids, especially when navigating illness or processing trauma, or being broke, or working, or a host of other life stuff). There is just little room for anything else. It's not an excuse, it's reality. I love your last paragraph and the grace you extend to yourself.