How to Get Back Up After Falling Down
Last spring I went on a week-long surfing trip to Mexico, and…
Wait. I wanna let that half-sentence steep for a second.
Did I just say... I went on a week long surfing trip to Mexico?
Me? Stasia? The 44 year old mama who’s NEVER surfed a day in her life? The gal who’s been CONVINCED since she was a teenager that she wasn't strong enough or flexible enough or brave enough to ever learn to surf? That Stasia?
Yea, THAT Stasia. Because THAT Stasia changed her pants a few years ago, and it changed her whole damn life.
#changeyourpantschangeyourlife
When I changed my pants, I realized that I could do hard things. “Impossible” things. I realized that I was strong and brave and bold. I realized that my thoughts were just that, thoughts, not the gospel truth. I realized that though stretching wayyyy outside my comfort zone wasn't always fun, it WAS wicked empowering, and yielded some pretty great (often unexpected!) results.
If you've been around these parts for a while, then you know that "change your pants" is code for "change your mindset"... but I'll get into that AFTER I tell you about how I went from feeling absolutely terrified of the water, to feeling like a pro-surfer in just 5 days.
When I signed up for Las Olas surf camp, I did so with very low expectations of ever standing up on a surf board. I didn't think I had the physical strength or flexibility to pop myself up onto a surf board, but I decided I'd do my best and give it a try. You never know! If nothing else, I'd have some fun splashing around in the waves, and enjoy the sisterhood of women I'd be surfing with.
On Day 1, I headed into my first surf lesson with an A+ attitude. I was ready to learn and to try. The very first wave I encountered knocked me on my ass, thrashed me inside-out and sideways, and left me visibly shaken. I got out of the water and I could hardly breathe. I couldn't talk. (That NEVER happens.) I could only shake.
I went to lunch and struggled to put food into my mouth. (Something else that NEVER happens.) I told my roommate that my surfing days were over. That I was retiring. That I was terrified.
My response surprised me. I'm not afraid of the water. Sure, the 9 foot surf board I was carrying felt more like a water-torpedo in the waves than a play-toy, but terror? Really?
And then I remembered. In 2006, I was body surfing in Costa Rica and got scooped up by a rip-tide that came out of nowhere. It swept me off my feet, and washing-machined 150 yards down the beach. I tried to fight it, but couldn't. I let my body go limp and I prepared to die.
When the ocean spit me out, I opened my eyes and saw a crowd of people standing over me, wondering if I was dead or alive.
Terror. There it was. I’d forgotten all about it.
My body was physically responding to a 12-year-old experience, not a today-experience.
I wasn't in a riptide. My life was not in immediate danger. I was safe.
I KNEW I needed to get back out there. I knew I needed to create new neural pathways. New memories. New stories about powerful waves.
After lunch I picked up my board, and I went into the whitewash to practice with my surf-sisters. I was away from the big waves, so I could breathe, but I was still shaking.
Baby steps.
I got up on my surfboard a few times, and I started creating NEW wave-memories.
I didn't sleep a wink that night. My body was still tense. I could hear the surf-break from my bedroom window, and it scared me. I spent the night practicing my deep breathing and doing my best to rest.
On Day 2, I got back out there. I stuck close to the surf coaches because they knew when to "hug" me, and when to "push" me. I spent most of the day doing this...
Even though I was flailing and falling all over the damn place, I started to feel at ease in the water. The terror started melting away, and I started having FUN.
My hips were clunky and stiff. I struggled with my pop-ups. My arms were shaking. My ribs were bruised. But hell if I didn't get up on that surf board over and over again. Sometimes for only 1 second, sometimes for 30 seconds, but dang, I GOT UP. And I was so psyched.
On Day 3, during the afternoon lesson, I knew I needed to take it to the next level. The coaches were great at supporting me and helping me catch my wave, but I knew I needed to step.away.from.the.coaches and catch my own wave. I needed to do it all by myself.
And I did. I stepped away and I caught my own wave. I was so fist-pumping proud.
I surfed more on Day 4, and then on the very last day when we went out for our dawn surf patrol (surfing as the sun rises), something magical happened. I popped up on my board like there were strings shooting out of my butt cheeks, propelling me upward, marionette style. I wasn't clunky or stiff or weak or awkward. I felt like a real surfer. I rode that mini-wave into the shore like a pro. I threw my arms into the air in celebration... and then fell flat on my ass because all that celebrating threw me off balance. But I didn't care. I did something that up until that very moment, I thought was absolutely impossible for me to do.
So yea, last spring I was in Mexico, learning to surf. And now I'm here in Vermont, reflecting on all the similarities between learning drop into my own wave... and learning how to step into my own power as a woman.
I'm realizing that the daily practice of asking myself, "who am I, and how do I want to show up in the world" AND the daily practice of redefining beauty, and learning to BE in my today-body, prepared me for my week of surfing.
I know who I am, and I believe that my today-body is a good body... so though I faced a bucket load of "limiting beliefs", I was experienced enough to know that a belief is nothing more than a trusted thought. And no matter how many times you think a trusted thought, it doesn't make it true. Especially if it's not. Especially if it's designed to keep you playing small.
I can't wear red lipstick. I'm not pretty enough, bold enough, courageous enough.
I can't wear sequins on a Tuesday. What will people think? Who do I think I am? I can't "get away with that."
I can't wear a short dress. I'm too old. My knees are too knobby. My legs are too cellulite-y.
These are cheap-seat thoughts that are not based in any kind of healthy reality... and for just about my whole life I believed them with my whole heart. I thought they were gospel truth, and I was terrified to challenge them. But I did, one day at a time.
I wore red lipstick, I wore sequins on a Tuesday, I wore a short dress. I just... did it. Each time I did a new thing, I shook with fear, afraid of what might happen when I broke the "rules". But every single time, nothing tragic happened. So I did it again and again and again, and like magic, new stories started to emerge... and new neural pathways were created.
I am pretty enough, bold enough, courageous enough.
What other people think of me and my sequins is none of my damn business.
I am bold, brave, beautiful - that's who I am.
OF COURSE I can get away with it - what does that even mean, anyway?
I'm not too old. My knees are not too knobby. My legs are not too cellulite-y. Who made up those rules, anyway?
Style isn't about the clothes. It's about tapping into your strength, your beauty, your grit, your power, your groundedness, your truth... and unapologetically (with so much love) saying THIS IS ME.
The path there can be a turbulent one. At first, you get thrashed by every wave that you drop into. Sometimes you crash so hard, it takes a team of women to pick your ass up, give you a hug, and then push you back out into your next wave. But over time, you begin to realize that the wave and the board are there to support you, and with practice, you can step away from the coaches and catch that wave all by yourself. You realize that falling is part of the journey, and you learn to pick your own self up. And then, like magic, you realize you can tame the wave and your board, and ride them both in more gracefully than you ever imagined.
This is THE WORK. It's hard, it's messy, it's scary, it's encouraging, it's empowering... and it'll change your damn life. The spring session of Style School is open for registration right now, and there’ll be a whole community of women stepping into this work together. Come catch the wave with us!
xo Stasia