Some days, the feelings of complete inadequacy combined with exhaustion from masking roll in like waves that are just a bit too tall for me to jump over...
It’s as if I were facing the shore posing for a photo when suddenly I’m pummeled out of nowhere from behind and slammed to the ground. My body slides along the ocean floor with rocks and sand scraping my legs as my feet scramble to gain footing whilst the remnants of the wave take their hold and pull me into deeper waters. I never see it coming...
Sure I’m taking a risk, but I love the challenge, don’t I? I have everything under control, right? I’m not that far away from shore, am I??
Of course I think this. Why else would I be standing there thigh deep in the water smiling at a camera with my sun-kissed cheeks and my dry, wavy hair blowing behind me in the wind?
Thing is, like life, the wave does not consult me before doing what waves do. Waves ebb and flow. Life ebbs and flows. Emotions ebb and flow.
I’m not ready for that wave. I don't have to be. I've been down this road before. I'm prepared this time. But the wave has other plans, yet somehow I'm surprised. And boy, do I ever struggle. Because once one wave comes, what do you think happens next? As I try desperately to get my footing back on the ground beneath me, the next wave comes and knocks me right back down. And the next wave and the next. They come so fast I barely have time to reach the surface to inhale before the next one hits.
I was only thigh deep!! How on earth did this happen? Again? I swore it would be different this time. I KNOW there will be waves. I’m in the damn ocean. Of course there are waves! I CHOSE to go to the beach. I CHOSE to get in the water.
Last time I got in deeper…to my chest…and ya, this happened, sure. But this time, I was prepared for it. I only went in thigh deep. How did I get here? How am I feeling the massive poundage of water above me churning me head over heels over head like a washing machine until I no longer know which way is up??
I wasn’t trying to tempt fate. I was at the water’s edge for God sakes. How did this happen? How do I climb out? How do I push myself up for a breath as I scramble and claw my way along the ocean floor back to the safety of shore?
But…
Somehow I do. Somehow I end up chest down on the shoreline with tangled hair, sand in my eyes, saltwater in my throat, bathing suit disheveled, gasping for air, pretending that what happened was just a little kerfuffle and not, in fact, a near drowning, grateful for escaping the depths of the ocean, and once again swearing I will never go back in the water.
And then I do. Go in the water. It calls to me with its beauty. Its mystery. Its promise of fun and renewal and adventure. And I swear THIS time it will be different. I will carry an even bigger smile on my face.
This time, I won’t have to pretend I know what I’m doing.
This time, I will know how far to go in to stay safe and protected.
This time, I will be able to stay in control…
(Waves rumbling………)
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