I woke up this morning with a handful of excuses to justify skipping my weekly swim. I had pretty much accepted that I wasn’t going to go until I felt a fire in my stomach that made me walk upstairs to pack my bag. I put on some tracksuit bottoms, grabbed my bathing suit and my goggles, looked for my flip flops and swimming cap, and piled them into the biggest bag I have. I brushed my teeth while asking myself Are we going swimming? To which I didn’t reply.
I carried myself and my bag down the stairs and went into the barn to get my bike. I put my bag inside my bike basket, chose the Wild Geese podcast episode I was going to listen to and then off I went.
Before I’d even processed that I indeed would be swimming today, I was already on my way and the idea felt easier to carry. All of the anxious thoughts I had were kind of silenced because I’d already decided I was going to do it without asking them how they felt about it. This morning however, they had a lot to say. You’re too tired, your period is on its way, you need to rest, your legs are heavy from all the kilometres you’ve run, you already washed your hair, you didn’t charge your watch last night… But none of those reasons (excuses) were valid.
I got to the pool and auto-piloted my way into the water and began swimming. Whenever my head goes underwater I remember why I love it. All of the noise disappears and I can float. I don’t have to carry myself and I can hide from whatever is going on up in the world above. Underwater, everything is blue, clear, transparent and silent. It’s gentle and weightless. I watch other people do their laps and see how they twist their shoulders to breathe during freestyle. I become fascinated with the women training for triathlons covered in muscles with a beautiful technique. I watch the older ladies swim with colourful fins on their feet and snorkel tubes in their mouths and then I look at my own body, bobbing up and down in the deep end.
Swimming helps my thoughts disappear. It’s as if they were allergic to water and as soon as my first foot touches the water, I feel the flick of the autopilot switch. Lap after lap after lap. Kick after kick after kick. Breath after breath after breath. Pull after pull after pull. Before I know it, I’ve done fifty laps and my fingers are raisins that I avoid brushing against my body. My lungs feel open and full. My heart beats like a drum in my chest. All while I’ve forgotten that I had thoughts pestering me inside my mind.
While I’m in the pool, I feel like I’m in another world. The only people that exist are the people swimming in the water, each with our own goals. The lifeguards catch my eye every so often but I keep swimming with not much time to look at them. My head needs to be facing the pool floor while I’m doing breast stroke or else I’ll sink and drag. I connect with my body and I feel myself gliding through the water after each strong push. I feel my shoulders and my arms burn after all of the laps. I feel my toes point to help me drift a little bit further, and I feel my body move into a dance in which everything feels right.
After an hour I get out of the pool and walk over to the smaller one. It has warmer water than the olympic sized pool and has a bench you can sit and float on surrounded by hot tub style jets. My legs were aching from running and I remembered that a hot tub can help get the lymphatic system moving, so I decided to sit there for fifteen minutes. I wasn’t in autopilot mode anymore, as a matter of fact, my thoughts were racing again just like when I left the house on my bike.
A flood of anxious thoughts kept hitting me in my mind while the jets were hitting my legs and back. At first I let myself listen to these thoughts, jumping from one to another in a type of frozen state until I realised that I was completely alone in the swimming center and that I had the whole place to myself. I felt my body relax but then I felt it contract for a whole new reason. When the pool is full I feel self-conscious but when the pool is empty I feel even more self-conscious because I’m the only head floating in the body of water. There’s no one else to be distracted by. It’s just me in this big and empty open space being eaten alive by her thoughts.
I managed to redirect those voices and asked myself what are you so worried about? And instead of answers I got more questions. What are you scared of? What do you fear? Why are you scared of being told off? Why are you scared of being in trouble? Why are you scared of people laughing at you? Why are you scared of being misunderstood? Why are you scared of doing the wrong thing? Why are you scared of being seen? Why are you scared of taking up space?
I still have no concrete answers but one thing did come to mind after I’d ran out of questions to ask myself. This guy I follow on social media from New York came to mind. I’m always fascinated by his videos because he speaks his mind with utter confidence and speaks loud and clearly. He has that New Yorker energy to him. His voice and his body language indicate that he’s not thin-skinned or that he’s used to existing, taking up space and saying “Fu** you, get off the sidewalk!” while walking down the streets of NY. I’m obviously just basing these assumptions off of his body language and way of speaking from the videos he uploads, but that’s not even the most important part. What I really want to say is that that stereotype of New Yorker shouting in the street and not giving a damn is the energy I’d like to have a little bit more of.
When I’m comfortable around someone, I speak my mind, and a lot of the time I come across as too blunt or too direct, but it takes layers and layers of love and trust for me to ever reach that state of being around people. My usual self is more of a “please forgive me for existing, breathing and being here” type of vibe. Today at the pool, I felt guilty for being the last person to leave the swimming center, even though I was leaving before the closing time. I felt like I was keeping people waiting or bothering them, even though I’d paid to be there and nobody had told me I needed to leave.
This small little defenseless baby lamb energy needs to go. I’m fed up with waking up and not being excited about going swimming because I’m too worried about doing something wrong. I’m a great swimmer and I know what I’m doing in a pool and in a swimming center, so what could I possibly be doing wrong? There are most definitely faults to my swimming technique, but I’m not there to be the best swimmer in the pool, I’m there to show up, do something I love, keep my promise to myself and be fit. It’s not that deep.
What is deep is the pain I’m inflicting on myself with these newborn baby lamb thoughts. None of it is true and I have the power to talk to myself in a different way and I already know all of the theory and the tools needed to get myself out of these weird mental states, but sometimes it’s just easier to ignore it all for the time being, stuff your bag with your swimming gear and walk out of the door. You can analyse it and digest it once you’ve done it, but most of the time you won’t need to analyse it because doing the thing makes the noise disappear.
Emily!! honestly felt so seen by your words! I am also always too conscious about bothering anyone with my presence, but sometimes, as good as it is to put ourselves in others' shoes, we forget what it is like being in ours! I send you a massive hug, to more swims! 🫂🤍
this is so good!!! your writing just keeps
getting better and better, a testament to sticking it out! 💗💗💗