My Surfiversary: How Surfing Saved My Life
The role joy and purpose play in your burnout recovery journey
February 14th is Valentine’s Day for most people, but I like to call it my “surfiversary”- my surfing anniversary. On February 14, 2017, I re-entered the water with my surfboard after sustaining a traumatic brain injury that had left me on the sidelines of not just the ocean but life itself, for months. Here’s my story.
The Backstory
In the summer of 2016, I left my career in academia- I have a PhD in sociology- and moved from Providence back home, to the small seaside town of Wakefield, Rhode Island.
If I’m being honest, I still can’t quite discern if those choices were voluntary or not. I was swept up in a toxic relationship back then and the emotional effort of dealing with that had left me with little energy to figure out my next career move, or get clear on what I truly wanted to do with my life. I was 100% burnt out.
But that summer I began to find solace in surfing. Years later, I know that finding joy is often the best antidote to burnout- paired with a heavy dose of self-care in the form of diet, exercise, and mindfulness. And though at the time I had no understanding of the “recipe” for healing burnout, I knew enough to keep doing what made me feel happy.
And that was surfing.
I wasn’t a great surfer, since I’d only surfed maybe a handful of times over the past couple of years. But I was just competent enough to paddle out to a couple of the more popular breaks around town, catch a few small waves, and not crash into anyone.
Towards the end of the summer, the idea that I could become a better surfer and maybe do some cool things like walk to the nose of my longboard or one day or surf a shortboard, started to look like real, achievable goals.
Surfing gave me a new purpose in life, and I got out into the water as often as possible. Even if the ocean was flat, that summer I’d paddle up and down the beach, just to be in the water. I started to meet new people and feel like I wasn’t so alone in the world- a marked contrast to the loneliness I’d felt living in Providence. When graduate school ended (about 3 years prior), most of my friends had moved away and I was left with only my boyfriend to lean on. That’s never a recipe for success.
Hello, Traumatic Brain Injury
When things were just starting to look up for me, though, is when life took a real nosedive. October 15, 2016, was another memorable day: that’s when I was hit on the head by my surfboard while out in the water at my favorite surf break. I went to the ER and was diagnosed with a concussion, but at that moment I had no idea just how serious it would be.
The next few months were torture. I couldn’t surf. I couldn’t do any exercise at all- a short walk would leave me exhausted. I couldn’t watch tv or go see a movie. I couldn’t drive more than a few miles before getting nauseous. Going out to a restaurant was taxing because of the noise and bright lights. I couldn’t read a book because I could barely remember what I’d read only moments after reading it. I couldn’t look at a screen too long before getting a splitting headache, and had to use my small daily allotment of physical and mental energy to perform my part-time job as editor of a health policy journal.
I didn’t have too many friends around town and my boyfriend essentially abandoned me. I was too exhausted all the time to go out and socialize. I started seeing an acupuncturist to get some relief for my headaches, but I looked forward to those appointments- as well as the ones with my neurologist, brain psychologist, physical therapist, and regular therapist- because they were some of the only social interaction I’d get all week.
Before the injury, surfing had given me happiness and was helping me re-integrate into my hometown community, a place where, after so many years away, I now knew almost no one except my best friend and my family. More than that, it had provided me an escape from my problems- the fact that I was stuck in a relationship that was going nowhere, was working at a job that had no relation to the career I’d trained for, and was living in my hometown again, in part because I felt like I had no other option. Surfing had been helping me overcome those problems in my mind, showing me there was more to life than just work, and giving me a hint of the possibilities that lie ahead.
But with each passing day, it felt like my brain would never recover. The symptoms persisted: debilitating headaches, lack of energy, sleeplessness, mental confusion, and a growing sense of anxiety and sadness.
Once, I had a full-blown panic attack while shopping for a sofa, triggered when I was unable to articulate my thoughts clearly. Another day, after having to skip a social networking event, I remember crying to my brain trauma psychologist, “I feel like my life is falling apart. And there is nothing I can do to fix it.” The prospect of surfing again became dimmer and dimmer, and with that, the prospect of just being happy. With brain injuries, you never know when or if you’ll fully recover.
Finding Hope
February 14, 2017, is when hope returned to my life. With permission from one of my doctors, I had begun exercising again in January. At first it was just 20 minutes or less on the recumbent bike at the YMCA, then I began going to a very low-intensity resistance bands class.
But there was a class called “surfset”, taught by a local surfer, that really caught my eye. I wanted to try it- if only to feel like I was moving towards being able to surf again- but I was afraid it would be too much for my brain to take. I talked to the instructor, Peter Pan, about my injury and how badly I wanted to surf again one day. He convinced me to come to class, even if I had to sit out some parts.
I will never forget the moment soon after, chatting in the hallway at the YMCA, that Pete invited me to go surf with him. Until then, getting back in the water had seemed impossible because on top of everything I had already been battling, now I was fearful of hitting my head again, and my confidence was at an all-time low. Oh yeah, and it was cold. Freezing. I had bought a winter wetsuit but didn't even know how to put it on. That in itself was embarrassing enough to keep me on the shore.
Pete gave me a time and place to meet him to surf. I won’t reveal the spot but it was the same place where I’d had my fateful accident. It’s one of the less popular breaks in the area, which was good. I was certain I wouldn’t be able to actually catch a wave that day, and assured Pete that I’d just paddle around and enjoy being in the water.
I arrived at our spot with all my gear. The waves were small, which I was glad for, and despite the cold water and air, the sun was shining, helping to further lift my spirits on this holiday I loved to hate.
“You should’ve put on your wetsuit before you left the house,” Pete instructed. This would be the first of many pearls of surfing wisdom he would share with me. Standing in the cold, Pete taught me how to get the 5 mil wetsuit on and, crucially, the trick to putting on my thick 7 mil mittens without help.
Resting my longboard carefully on the crown of my head, I hiked down through the boulders to the pebbly shore, and paddled out behind Pete to where the waves were breaking. Moving through the water was no easy task: it was cold, the wetsuit rendered me less than agile, and after a forced 4-month hiatus from exercise, I wasn’t in the greatest shape. I felt like I was paddling through mud, and fully planned to just sit on my board and enjoy the scenery while Pete caught the waves.
That’s why it was a surprise when a wave appeared on the horizon and I began paddling for it. I did not think, I acted. I was determined to catch this wave.
As I felt my board begin to move in tandem with the water, I instinctively popped up and turned to the right to ride down the face of the wave. I fell off in only a few seconds. It sounds like a small thing today but for me in that moment, it meant everything. When I got home, I wrote in my journal:
“As I felt my board begin to move in tandem with the water, I instinctively popped up and turned to the right to ride down the face of the wave. I fell off in only a few seconds. It sounds like a small thing today but for me in that moment, it meant everything. When I got home, I wrote in my journal: “I think this might be the best Valentine’s Day ever! I am excited about the future.””
Every surfer has at least one wave that is forever etched in memory in the finest detail. This is mine.
Catching that first wave after my injury, it was like something sparked inside of me. In that fleeting moment, I rediscovered a self that had long been buried, out of my sight. I remembered who I am. Maybe it seems silly but through the brain injury, the breakup, the career transition… it’s like I had completely lost touch with myself, my likes and dislikes, my goals, and my values. All hallmarks of burnout.
Getting back on my surfboard reminded me that I am worthy. I am smart and capable. I’m a valuable person on this earth, and there is happiness to be had.
Surfing Saved Me
Surfing injured my brain, but in the end it actually saved my life. I’ll be forever grateful to my friend Pete for inviting me into the water that day, because it was the first step towards pulling myself out of a deep hole, moving more quickly on the path to recovery from my brain injury, and redefining my future.
I don’t know that I would’ve ever tried to surf again without his help. Since then, Pete’s become my number one surf buddy, looking out to make sure I don’t hit my head again, coaching me here and there, and making me paddle out even when the waves aren’t so great.
But also through surfing, I’ve made many new friends, conquered new goals in the water and out, and I even met the love of my life. And getting in the water on a regular basis has helped calm my mind so I can focus on things I really want to do in life- like cooking for others and writing this blog.
If there’s one takeaway I can share from my experience, it’s that you really need to find that thing that gives you joy in life. Even if it means experimenting a little, rediscovering an old hobby, or taking up a sport or activity you always wanted to learn as a kid. You need to do this, especially if you find you’re working your life away, or you’ve reached that point of emotional exhaustion and burnout.
It’ll save your life.
Do you have something special that helps ground you and give you purpose in life? I’d love to know about it! Please share in the comments.
