When I was 5 years old my family travelled from the inland town we lived in to holiday with relatives living in Durban; a coastal city. Every evening my dad would excitedly tell us kids that we were going swimming in the sea early the next morning. 

My dad would wake us three kids in the dark. My older sister would choose to remain in bed and my older brother and I would accompany my dad to the beach. The routine became that once we got there my brother would decide to remain on the shore.

The beach was deserted. No holidaymakers and their umbrellas and cooler boxes. No frenzied sporting activities, no smell of coconut tanning lotion and melting ice cream. 

The navy blue sea and inky sky seeping into one, making the horizon an imaginary line. The cold grey, blue ocean tones only ruptured by the whipped white foam that indicated where the arching, rolling, crashing waves were breaking. 

Plunging In

At the water’s edge, my dad told me that we were going to swim beyond the breakers.  I had to do exactly what he told me to do when he told me. I only had one request, “Don’t let go of my hand, daddy.”

We ran in, my little hand engulfed in his, our warm bodies swallowed by the icy watery beast. Quickly my body was buoyed and, as my dad strode forward, I followed, tethered to his hand, kicking and swimming to keep abreast of him. 

As we entered the choppy, bubbling aftermath of the bigger waves my dad would pull me up to keep my head above the water. We forged deeper into the blue. Quickly he too was lifted, feet far from the sand, as we faced the sliding walls of water now towering over us.

Facing the Breakers

As the closest mountain of water started to rise, seemingly to engulf us, my dad would tell me to take a big breath. Then we plummeted, blind, into the dark depths beneath the swirl. Eventually emerging on the other side, spluttering and wiping our eyes to see the next challenge ahead of us. 

Again and again, the whale of water rose imposingly over us. We plunged, kicking with four legs and swimming with two hands, locked into his promise to not let go of our connection, as the sea breached behind us.

As we navigated through the breakers we could not see beyond them, all our energy and senses focused on surviving the onslaught of water barrelling towards us - diving deep to avoid, as much as possible, the churning powering each wave.

Breaking Through to the Other Side

Ultimately our saline baptisms paid off and we’d emerge through the last breaker, bursting, exhausted, gasping, often gulping mouthfuls of salty liquid to discover we had made it through to the other side. The drama behind us and calm before us. An almost endless stretch of blue from us to the curved outline of the horizon.

The crashing thunder of water now replaced by the gentle swell and fall - the meditative breaths of the sea. Swimming towards the horizon, to put some distance between us and the breakers, it was now time to rest, lie back and float while being lulled by the quiet and calm. Spreadeagle, relaxed, head back, ears below the waterline, our ragged breathing slowed as we floated in silence, secured like otters.

And then it was time for the main event. The sun started to escape the horizon. Bathing us in its glow, warming us, painting the sky and reflecting its artwork on the surface around us. We were lying in a living kaleidoscope. 

Submerged in Neptune’s womb we witnessed the birthing of a new day. The best day - a holiday.

Twenty-five Years Later

Twenty-five years later, far from the sea, on a dark, dramatic, highveld stormy night I found myself sitting in my therapist’s office as she told me the story of The Skeleton Woman to the soundtrack of pelting rain and explosive lightning.

The Skeleton Woman is a story from “Women Who Run With the Wolves” written by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. It is also a story about the sea, the sea of life and relationships. 

A metaphorical story about expectation, disillusionment, skeletons, vulnerability, magic and what we do when we encounter them. Do we dive deep? Do we return to the shore? Do we stay and battle the breakers? Do we break the connection?

Stuck in the Breakers

For me, there have been many times in my life where I have remained in the breakers, unable to swim beyond. Bashed, dishevelled, disorientated, cycling in the push and pull of drama. At times I’ve confused dramatic and passionate.

Although the oceans are vast, and the breakers are just a small part of that, they often pull focus. When you’re caught in the up and down it’s difficult to see beyond them.

In relationships, if the connection is broken, the trust destroyed, you can easily lose sight of each other. If you can’t both dive deep, the force of the wave may break your bond and spit you out onto the shore.

Breakers are part of life but remaining in that turmoil is exhausting. 

Beyond the breakers, you are buoyed, held, soothed, elevated. There’s time for rest, recuperation. Time to be mesmerised.

In the midst of the breakers, there is much happening but not much progress being made, nothing is achieved beyond survival. Breakers can break us down.

Breakers Are Representative of Many Things

There are many situations that keep us in the breakers, a toxic work environment, relationships where the person is afraid to dive deep, move forward, people who create drama, us creating drama. It may even be that we were born into a family whose relationships stay in the breakers and that makes us think that’s how relationships should be.

Remember “Finding Nemo”? In that Pixar classic, Marvin reminds Nemo to brush up against the sea anemone so that he’ll become immune to the toxins. 

If we remain in toxic environments, whether it’s our workplace, friendships or romantic relationships - spaces that break us down - we are not immune like clownfish, we become poisoned. 

It’s difficult to see if we’re surrounded by people living in the breakers because we tell ourselves this is normal, everyone is going through the same thing. But should you be?

Spinning Through Toxic Cycles

A cycle I found myself going through when I felt exhausted from toxic environs was to take a break. When I was feeling stronger, better, I’d plunge back in only for the cycle to start churning again, leaving me exhausted. I’d tell myself I just needed to work harder, get through the next breaker and it would be better. But struggle doesn’t calm chaotic waters. Striving doesn’t dilute toxicity.

Sometimes we make the mistake of thinking that being stuck means there’s no movement but being stuck can also be a loop, a cycle, spooling in and out of the same dramatic wave over and over again. Sometimes stuck is frenetic energy, lots of activity but no progression.

At times what’s required is grabbing someone’s hand and diving deep with them. Deeper into relationship, into intimacy, into vulnerability, into exposing the skeletons in our emotional closets, into exploring the unknown.

Other times it’s exploring our internal depths, our own poisonous natures, the inner spaces where we harbour anemones, enemies, our internal critic and discovering the mesmerising magic within. Learning to swim beyond the breakers churning inside us, finding the quiet calm inside where our breath swells, expels, where knowing dwells so that we can feel our connection to beyond the breakers in us, to beyond the breakers outside of us.

Laughter and Tears

When I arrived that evening, years ago, at my psychologist’s door, wind, rain and leaves swept in with me. In greeting I said something funny, I can’t remember what. The force of laughter threw her head back and laughter rang out. 

Later, as we settled in, bathed in the golden glow of a lamp, she shared the story of The Skeleton Woman with me. Her mellow voice contrasted with the whips of lightning and booming thunder outside. As she spoke, salty tears gently ran down my face. When the story concluded she said, “do you know that you always make me laugh before you allow yourself to cry?”

So, true to my nature, let me share another element of my childhood memory with you.

One morning, when we were thoroughly settled into our swimming beyond the breakers routine, between waves, my dad said to me, “darling, daddy’s going to let go of your hand for a moment because that last wave tried to steal daddy’s swimming trunks!” 

I’m not going to lie to you, in getting beyond the breakers you may lose a thing or two - including your swimming trunks. 

Sometimes we have to let go of what we don’t want to get what we do want. If you want to be in a relationship you’ll need to let go of being single, if you want nourishing relationships you’ll give up toxic ones, if you crave depth you’ll have to say goodbye to the surface for a while.

But remember that letting go also leaves us lighter, both hands-free to swim further and grab what we do want with both hands.

As Nemo’s friend Dory tells us, “just keep swimming.”

Thank you for reading. Have you experienced the tumultuous energy of living in the breakers? Have you broken through beyond the breakers? I’d love to hear about your experiences. Please share them in the comments below.