I spent a few days at the beach recently. Normally, I need this place for both grounding & the calm it brings. The sound of the ocean fills me with so much peace & ease.
For all of my adult life, I’ve craved being here. And I’ve soaked up every second of those trips when they came. Every bit of being ocean-side nourishes my soul – the sound of waves crashing & seagulls cawing, the warm sand beneath my feet, the smell of salty sea air.
Mostly though, I delighted in the waves as they tossed me back & forth, knocked me over & pulled me under. I spent hours each day leaping over waves or diving beneath them, imagining myself to be a mermaid swimming through the wave.
If I was lucky enough on a calm ocean day, I’d spread out on my back & float right up over the gently forming waves. Up & down – the water cradling me, rocking me.
Truly, floating was my favorite, but I loved the battle to get out there too.
This trip was different though.
I spent the first few days looking out at the stormy sea & wanting none of it. I stood on the shore, tide washing over my feet, slowly sinking as the water rushed back out to sea.
I spent most of the first few days on the warm sand beneath an umbrella, even as the ocean grew calmer.
On the final day, I found myself venturing further & more often into the water. But I still wasn’t interested in the waves like I was in the past. A quick 5 minute dip – no leaping over or ducking under waves. I only went in up to my thighs this whole trip.
We are often told if we aren’t loving the things we once loved, look out for depression. As someone who has battled depression on & off for 30+ years, my mind leapt right to this worry.
But I wasn’t feeling tumultuous or low. I was feeling level-headed & clear, at ease.
And on this final day, as I thoroughly enjoyed napping & reading on the beach & staring out at the waves, standing on the shoreline as sand & seawater mixed tugging my feet deeper into the earth, the realization dawned that changing interests is one of the biggest parts of life.
Even with a history of depression, this can’t be the measuring stick of gloom.
I no longer wanted to be tossed around in the waves.
No more battling to stay on my feet. No more being knocked down. I wanted to stand surefooted on the shore & enjoy the view.
Enjoying peace & ease from my place on the sand felt delicious. It felt like a warm hug. And I wanted more of it.
I wish I hadn’t spent the first 3 days wondering what was wrong with me for not wanting to be out there in the waves.
We seek out the familiar in life.
Following trauma, we unconsciously are drawn to tumultuous circumstances because they are familiar. Not because we consciously choose them, but because subconsciously the familiarity draws us near.
The waves thrashing & tossing me about was my trauma pulling me under. And I kept going back for more. I literally craved it.
Years ago, I partook in an exercise during a personal growth workshop. A web of connections.
We were to list the core people in our lives & 5 likes & dislikes for each of them. My dislikes continually showed addiction – alcohol, hoarding, shopping, etc.
The surprise ending of this exercise was the mirror. A piece of everything we see in another exists within ourselves to differing degrees. Those around us are mirrors of our internal beings.
If you hate another, you hate that piece of yourself & that is where you need healing.
If you admire another, that quality also exists within you.
So what do I make of addiction existing within me? I don’t drink, I don’t care much for possessions. During my reading, I was told me that I’m addicted to pain. Now that made sense & caused me to shudder.
Chaos is nothing to chase & no way to live. The tumultuous ocean beckoned me to roll in the chaos.
No more.
We all have that place we go to for healing.
Sometimes, the healing comes in a different form than we have known before.
Sometimes, it shows us just how much we have grown & healed.
Sometimes, we no longer need that place because we’ve found our peace elsewhere.
Sometimes, our soul needs every ounce of that place every moment of our days. To support us. To love us.
Welcome it with open arms & hug tight.
I’m not saying I won’t ever relish in playing in the waves again. But when I do it’ll be for a different reason – embracing my inner child. And it’ll be amazing.
Love & light,
Unfurled Wings 
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