Here I am again in my favourite retreat-from-life location, by the sea. I love it! The sea never loses its appeal to me. From that first glimpse of the sea to the sound of the waves. I never tire of the sensory delight of these scenes. My soul savours and inhales them with the fervour of a starved animal with an insatiable appetite!
Fortunately, the night before travelling I was organised enough to pack the car, so there was no need to think or organise myself in the morning pre-caffeine. I can’t drink coffee before I set off as it sets off a series of seemingly never ending trips to the loo. My pre-travel organisation freed me to get up, throw the fridge and freezer contents into their bags and bugger straight off.
I love driving on clear roads ahead of the masses.
Shortly after reaching my favourite sea-facing, food-providing establishment, my very favourite table became available. Don’t mind if I do. It is closest to the sea and furthest from the noise creating crowds. Double bonus. Here I sat and devoured my cooked breakfast, large coffee and view of the sea, each with equal enjoyment. All round yum. I usually eat my food with my eyes as I love to look at a colourful display on my plate, as opposed to a beige one. But to have tasty, varied food and a seaview was extra delicious.
After a while a paddle boarder paddled into my vision. Not something I usually see here. The Saturday morning runners are a regular sight. One I try to get ahead of given I don’t have the patience to get stuck behind them while queuing for coffee. But this single paddle boarder was quickly joined by another, then another, then a whole smattering of them.
As the sun was still shining, which was not what the weather had forecast, I could not resist the call to go out to play in it. Once I stepped on to the beach, it became apparent that it is a new Saturday morning thing for paddle boarders to come out en masse alongside the usual swimmers. Quite a hive of water based activity. It looked fun but way too cold for me.
Instead, I absolutely love ambling along the beach, while the sea laps at the shore. Intermittently the sun came out and blasted me, before the cloud coverage chilled me. In, out, in, out, shake it all about. As if it’s not hard enough having a faulty thermostat in perimenopause without the external temperature changing more frequently than a chameleon.
While repeatedly removing my coat, hat and scarf only to replace them minutes later, I reflected on the parallels with a perimenopausal woman. At least those of us struggling to manage our ever changing basal temperatures. The English weather sometimes scorches me one minute before stinging me with hailstone the next. This is possibly the closest a non-peri person could get to sampling the speed with which a peri navigating body temperature can change. Except when this hot and cold malarkey is happening inside the body, we can’t merely walk into an indoor space where the temperature is regulated for us. The joys!
Anyway, while the sun was out to play, I laid down and kicked back on the pebbly part of the beach. I savoured the view of the waves coming in and out. It’s better than television and somehow the constant repeats don’t get boring. At least not to me. I don’t know what it is about the sea that enables me to sit still. I was reflecting last week with a fellow therapist as to whether the movement of the water allows me to be still while watching it. Who knows. I don’t. But I do know that I love water and it helps me to do the thing I’m so naturally shit at … resting.
The sight of the stones on the beach is another visual delight that I never tire of. The more I look at those stones, the more I see how unique and beautiful every single one is. And the more I want to take heaps of them home with me! It makes me feel both happy and sad to remember that my dad did this exact same thing with the beach and the stones. Once he bought me some stones back from one of his beach-visiting trips as he knows I use them in my practice work. Despite all our years of estrangement, our temporary reconciliation revealed that we both enjoyed solo trips to the sea and stealing stones from them! Something that makes me smile now even through my tears.
And now I feel a wave of grief coming through my system just as the waves in front of me are coming through on the sea. Except I don’t feel free to let my waves come through or crash into completion how they want to. Social conditioning means that while being sat in public, it feels unacceptable to start sobbing and snotting all over the place!
It was grief that made me book this break. I know that spontaneous, to-do-list free time is the best gift I can give myself in grief. A chance to not have to simply suck it up and carry on adulting, but to take time out to be still. To have space, stillness and silence so that whatever needs to come up and out, will.
In this case, grief, complicated grief. But it is still grief, of which I have a lot of experience. I know I need to create the space to go with it, rather than against it. To make space for it to arise without pushing it back down. There is a time to push it back down to prioritise the task at hand but if I constantly push it back down, it will constantly push harder to come back up. And I don’t have the energy to fight such a battle which is working on my behalf to release what is costly to keep in!
Anyway, the earlier beach based playtime that preceded my writing, was drawn to a close by my bladders need to be emptied.
Back to the favourite sea facing establishment. The biggest decision I had to make was whether to sit outside or inside. Eventually my love of being outside won out. I promised my love of indoor comforts that I’d return inside if it got too cold or uncomfortable. A fair compromise.
Today feels how weekend days used to feel as a child, like it’s lasting forever. Having got out of bed at 5.30am, it has lasted for seven hours so far with a further three in between me and accommodation check in. I’m starting to feel ready for my non-negotiable daily nap. Another coffee is buying me more time.
The menu in between me and entry to my accommodation, consists of a walk around the charity shop, possibly a run and maybe a read of the paper. Oh yes and a visit to the tatt filled souvenir shop, just because. Absolutely glorious!
How I love the bliss of the beach. Even with the presence of grief.