Surfing is a journey of healing for me.
When I was married, I never went to the ocean. I spent nearly a decade never going to the water, not even knowing it was something I desperately needed. Something I longed for. But when you have a narcissistic husband taking up all your energy, the ocean goes by the wayside.
So I got to be single again and began taking myself to the beach every Sunday. It was my thing. Mine alone. No friends. No dates. Just me. I just wanted to be around the beach and the ocean. I grew up in Florida. I’m an island girl by descent. I needed to be by the shoreline just to feel ‘normal.’
I would walk through the shore and let the water gather around my ankles. The push of the current around my feet and the glimmer of the water’s surface of so many care free summers in Florida before. After years of having pieces of myself torn off to make someone else happy, I would take back my relationship to the beach for myself. All this came with trips to Topanga Canyon on Sundays. The ride to Topanga is just as exhilirating as the beach itself, driving through the switchbacks in the canyon, whipping my ride to and fro until I could smell the salty breeze.
Freedom. Bliss. Home.
The nature of Topanga Canyon is bright and cheery, with the soaring flowers of century agaves towering 30 feet in the air lining the road. Brilliant subtropical flowers. Dramatic cliffs. And a scintillating blush of green that coats the mountains. All of this drew me back week after week, but what really kept me coming was the surfers.
At the time I didn’t know why I wanted to be a surfer. I just knew that I needed to be in that on that board doing the thing. Why am I on this side and not that side of the line-up? With questions came compulsion. With compulsion came the urge. And with the urge, the words I would tell people to back up those urges and force me into accountability. I’m not sure if I became a surfer or surfing became me.
What I do know is that surfing gets me out of my head. I don’t have time to think about all the ways people have hurt me. The way they do hurt me. I only have time to look at the water. Paddle, paddle, paddle. Paddle for my life and pop for the glory. Try not to get punched by a wave. Don’t step on a stingray. And catch as many rides as I can. Freedom on a board. That’s all that matters.
I come back from the waves with cool stories, but the most important story is the one where I put myself back together from all the abuse with the power of surfing.