A May of Healing

It makes a difference when we’ve got the light. And it’s warm with it.

I’m in a three day streak of getting into the sea, straight after the school run. The tide has been in too. Which I love.

I love it when the bay is full to the brim with sea. I don’t have to walk far before I meet the water.

I give thanks when I greet the sea. Because she’s always there for me. Not judging me. Not rejecting me. Just welcoming me.

In the past, the sea has healed me again and again. The first time of any significance was when I miscarried our second child, back in 2009. We moved to the coast soon after as I needed to heal.

And to be healed is not a one time thing. Healing is a life long process. Sometimes I’m locked into my healing journey and sometimes I veer off course and need something or someone to remind me to get back into the practice. The practice of healing.

So with a new month comes a renewal. And this is the time of year to renew. Spring is well and truly with us now. And the blossom may be receding and just pink petals on the wind, or white even. But I’m catching hints of bluebells.

So my list of habits and actions to lean into for a May of Healing includes:

  1. A high protein breakfast.
  2. Making sure I get 8+ hours of sleep each night. Priority!
  3. Getting lost in a few good books.
  4. Walking each day. Getting outside into the light.
  5. Getting into the sea as often as possible, at home and away.
  6. Visual journaling daily.
  7. Getting back into painting for pleasure. To hell with the results.
  8. Increasing my fruit and veg intake.
  9. Increasing my water intake. At least 2litres a day.
  10. Continue on my strength training journey.
  11. Insight timer daily.
  12. Reconnecting with friends and family I haven’t talked to for a while.
  13. Solo dates like to the cinema or a museum. Or a delicious meal out for one!
  14. Acquire some new plant friends.
  15. Create a zine or two.
  16. Plan the summer holidays for Miss Ella and me. And also solo me!
  17. Keep traveling for pleasure and joy instead of work commitments and responsibilities.
  18. Write someone a letter.
  19. Dance party, music consumption daily.
  20. Rest. Rest. Rest.

The water is ice cold. It’s like being bitten. The natural instinct is to retreat. Drawback. Curl in on self – reducing the amount of surface skin touching the ice cold water.

I do not.

I keep inching forward so more and more skin is exposed to the cold. Now. My toes, the first part of my body to touch the water, are numb. They’ve taken on that false warm feeling as it they’ve warmed up and comfortable. But they are not.

Now. I’ve lost all sensation in them which is good. As if the pain had continued from toes all the way up to my thighs where the ice cold water has now reached, the bites, the incessant biting sensation of short sharp teeth would have taken over my system along with the piercing screams erupting from my lips.

Now. Instead, I continue to wade into the ice cold water. To my core. Now. I breath deeply, and bend at the waist, outstretched my arms, fingers hitting the water first to push back the ice cold water as I take my first breast stroke.

Now. My body is totally submerged and she is screaming out in protest. She is in pain but I do not listen to her. Instead I push further out, making wide sweeping stroke with arms whose elbows are howling in pain. Now. I keep my breathing steady and continue to glide through the water as if my body is not asking for mercy, asking to retreat, asking to exit ice cold water.

Now. It happens. The cold is no longer felt as acutely. No lingering ice cold. Just cold. And numb. Numb and cold. I continue to swim across the bay. And give thanks. Now.

Slammed by the Sea

King Edward’s Bay, Tynemouth

Sunday morning, I’m up at 6am to catch the sunrise in the sea.

The bay is quiet only a few people jumping waves and using the sauna tents.

I keep to my side of the bay where the waves are coming in smaller. I get in and feel good. The water is balmy compared to Loch Morlich last week.

I’m swimming just keep swimming. And before I know it I’m further out as well as further across into the centre left bay.

Before I release it, a big wave is coming in and I know it’s coming over my head. I stop swimming and try to make haste back to the shore knowing I’m wasting my energy.

The wave hits me hard, over my head, drenching my woollie bobbled hat and penetrates all breathing holes.

The main task is to keep standing and not to get pulled under. And to breathe of course.

I’m still trying to wade out of the sea and get to safety. But before I can make even a few more steps another wave slams me.

This time I’m down on my knees in the sea, gasping for breath. I pull off my hat, stand and I’m spluttering and stumbling to the shore.

Of course I have to turn back to the sea with a smile and say, okay you got me! I hear you. I feel you. I got a bit complacent there. Lesson learnt.

And this is a good reminder for me to always respect the sea and to not get too big for my boots. Taking it all leisurely basking in the temperature rise in comparison and forgetting where I am now.

Now in the present moment, I’m in the North Sea which is notorious for taking lives.

Don’t take you own life so lightly Sheree and pay attention.

Lesson learnt. Message heard . And thanks given.

Leaving the Loch

I’ve taken quite a shine to Loch Morlich. It’s a place that keeps on giving. And a place I long to return. I leave it with a renewed commitment to my self-love journey. To devoting more time, care and attention to myself. Diverting the attentions I might have been giving out willy-nilly to other people, thoughtlessly, I redirect back to the source. Me.

7am, Loch Morlich

I entered the loch today as the sun was rising. I broke the surface of the loch, with its shards of ice and glided out. Slow expansive circles ripped upon the lochs surface as I took slow, cold strokes. It was freezing and it was painful, but I didn’t want to stop, to get out and leave the loch. But I did.

My finger tips were white for a long time after my swim. I used hot water to bring back some feeling into them. They were so painful. But this pain, along with my body submerged without the frozen loch, are all a reminder to feel again, to live my life to the fullest and give thanks in the process.

7am, Loch Morlich

One Day, Four Walks

8am, Loch Morlich

Yesterday, I clocked up 17 miles on my walk into Aviemore and back. So today was a talking it easy kind of day. But I still needed to move my body. To explore the camp site and be with the loch. So a morning walk it was.

Sun just up. Loch serene.

10am, River into Loch

Some days, to keep the creative juices flowing and the blood pumping, I take a walk out. Stretch the legs and clear the head. All those great thinkers from time have sworn by taking a walk and a problem is solved.

Sun up. River flowing.

2pm, Loch Morlich

As the afternoon wears on, I usually get a slump in energy levels. If I was home, I’d crawl under a blanket and ride out the low energy. Picking on myself for being so lazy and not doing something to shift my energy. Today I got back out to the loch and noticed a nip in the air. A rise in the wind speed and a reluctance to get into the water.

Sun descending. Loch rippled.

5.30pm, Loch Morlich

The aim was to enter the loch with the sun going down. But I couldn’t be arsed. There were too many people round. I was the only Black body around for miles as well as the only body I’d seen for my stay entering the loch. I was too tired to be singled out any further. So I walked the loch. Around to the point of the sun going down and the loch taking on the colours of dusk. I was glad I walked out again.

Sun down. Loch iridescent.

End of week Gratitude

Cullercoats’ Underpass

This week has been a blessing.

This week was back to school week but things could have been worse. A cold weather front has hit the UK. Yes it’s cold up North but it could have been worse. At least we’ve had the light. And it’s remained dry even if each morning the windscreen has been frozen.

I’m grateful because I’ve had the privilege of spending quality time with Miss Ella and supporting her on her journey to her GCSE mock examinations. She’s capable, she just needs to believe in herself more. And that’s where I can come in, for sure.

Cullercoats Bay

I’m grateful because I managed to get into the sea twice this week. And there’s still time for more. The sea produced some big waves which were beautiful and dangerous. There was a lot of jumping waves and giggling like the little girl I didn’t get to be when growing up.

I’m grateful to be able to control where I direct my time and energy. At the moment that is all towards myself, first thing, and then I’m ready for what the rest of the day throws at me.

I’m grateful to nature ( until I find a better way of referring to her/ me/ us) as I take my cues and guidance from her and continue to hibernate and rest and dream. LUSH.

Water – RIver Etive

The River Etive, a river running through Glencoe, Scotland which I had the pleasure of getting into on New Year’s Day. This was my first wild swim of the year, of course, but it was also my first wild swim since November, 2024.

At the end of November, I got two new tattoos. I’ll share them at some point here ( a clue you’ve already seen them somewhere on this site already!). So with tattoos, I’m not supposed to get into the sea for three weeks afterwards. Three weeks came and went, and I still hadn’t gotten in. I could make the excuses of time and other commitments, but really there was fear and again me not taking my medicine.

Anyway, I’ve made a commitment to myself and 2025, to make sure I prioritise myself, putting my needs and wants first. Leaning into the joy and making sure I feel LUSH, more times than not.
I got into the River Etive, as I shared here. Now I’m back home, I’m making the effort to get into the sea. It’s on my doorstep.I have no excuses, and yet, I know 2024, saw me less than ever getting into the sea. I lost my rhythm, my mojo of getting in. I forgot how much I gain from walking into the sea, all year around. I’m not planning on doing the same thing this year. This year, I’m making water, inside and outside my body, a priority, as the rewards are multiple and multiply as the day/ days go by. Whatever it takes, I’m getting in. Watch me!