Riding the Wave
Shortly after moving to California I met up with a dear friend of mine for my first surf lesson. Call it beginners luck, but I caught two waves within the first 15 minutes! The following week I practiced maneuvering my surf board in the swimming pool until I felt comfortable on it. Like a fool, I decided that these two experiences were all I needed before heading into the waters by myself.
I chose a location that was only waist deep and directly in front of a life-guard station. I knew the beach well as it is my favorite boogie boarding spot. With several other surfers around, I figured if something happened I had plenty of eyes on me to come to the rescue. I was eager to practice all of the skills that I had learned. As I walked out into the water, I could see dolphins jumping in the distance with a gorgeous sunset behind them. It was pure magic.
Until the waves started crashing over my head, that is. And then reality immediately kicked in.
Wave after wave forced me off of my board, leaving me scrambling to get back on before the next one had it's way with me. At one point as I was twisting and turning under the waves, a surfer dropped in and slammed right into the side of my head. He apologized profusely, explaining that he didn't see me and owned the incident. I told him I was honored to have my first surfing injury, as a bump formed on my head. He paddled back out and I was left trying to unwrap my leash from around my legs before the next wave hit. But I couldn't, and found myself pummeled beneath the waves once again.
As I came up out of the water, my own board was slammed straight into my front tooth, leaving me with a bloody mouth and in excruciating pain. I just knew that I had lost or chipped my front tooth but was too scared to check, and too numbed by pain to feel. Thankfully, I am writing this blog with all of my front teeth intact. In case you were worried.
Finally, after what felt like a WWF smackdown, I made it past the break and began positioning myself for a wave. Attempt after attempt left me immediately falling off my board or getting wrapped in my leash. I was so exhausted, tired of swallowing buckets of salty ocean water, and was starting to get a headache from the previous collisions. I had to make a decision: would I continue getting pummeled, or would I know my limits and move myself to safety? I decided I would ride the next wave in on my stomach and call it a night.
But as the wave was pushing me in, everything felt just right. My positioning. My speed. My balance. The basics were there. So, I pushed myself up, jumped into stance, and road the wave all the way to shore with the biggest smile on my face. The beating I'd endured from the ocean suddenly felt worth it when compared to the magic I felt in that moment.
Fast forward to my journey out here to California in July of 2023. While my brother and niece drove me cross-country, I sat in the back seat feeling so excited for the possibilities that were ahead of me. The trip itself felt magical and therapeutic. But just a few weeks into the move, reality began to set in and one thing after another kept crashing overhead, leaving me pummeled beneath the weight. I found myself locked into a job that wreaked financial havoc and put me at risk of being evicted from my apartment. The job also placed me in dangerous situations in patient homes, consumed all of my time and energy, and took a major toll on my mental health. Things became so intense that I began suffering from full blown panic attacks. I had a decision to make.
My mental, physical, emotional, and financial health were all at stake. I had to make a decision: Continue in my work contract at the risk of my well-being, or prioritize my health at the risk of losing $5,000 and face possible penalties? I chose to prioritize my mental health and well-being, at all costs. I turned to friends and family for support financially, emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. And all of a sudden, everything started aligning just right. I received a call about a job at a top postpartum unit and days later, accepted the job. The new position would secure me financially, allow for work-life balance, place me in a safer work environment, and allow for 25 days of free counseling every year.
The beating that I'd endured leading up to that moment paled in comparison to the opportunity before me. And as the relief and joy set in, I was able to look back at the seven months of struggle through a new perspective. Through those months, I gained invaluable lessons, top nursing skills, confidence in my abilities, endurance, a deeper faith, and a tighter knit community. All of the working pieces finally came together for this moment.
Was the process brutal? Overwhelmingly so. But was it worth it? Overwhelmingly so.
I'm reminded of these words in the bible, "We are experiencing all kinds of trouble, but we aren't crushed. We are confused, but we aren't depressed. We are harassed, but we aren't abandoned. We are knocked down, but we aren't knocked out...So we aren't depressed. But even if our bodies are breaking down on the outside, the person that we are on the inside is being renewed every day. ." (2 Corinthians 4: 8-9, 16)
The last seven months have taught me many lessons. But here are the most valuable:
1- How I prepare myself when life is good, will determine how I respond when life is hard.
For exactly seven months leading up to my move, I spent countless weeks fasting, praying, memorizing scripture, and seeking wise counsel in preparation for the cross-country move. Oddly enough, the transition took exactly seven month of hardship before finally experiencing break through. Had I not prepared for the inevitable hardship ahead, I don't know if I would have endured.
Ephesians 6:10-18 beautifully discusses this.
2- I am not a failure for pre-maturely leaving a job that put my entire well-being in jeopardy.
For months, I felt "trapped" by contracts, expectations, and financial incentives. Leaving didn't feel like an option. After all, in my twelve years as a nurse, I have never quit or left a job within my first year of employment. It took my sweet friend reminding me that choosing a safer job wasn't failing, it was demonstrating courage and strength by standing up for what was best for me. Choosing to leave an unhealthy environment was choosing to protect myself mentally, emotionally, physically, financially, and relationally. That's not failing. That's thriving.
3- Everything has an important purpose, but especially hardship. Had I not endured the last seven months of hardship, I would have missed out on incredible opportunities to connect with my new community, build important trust with new friends, experience the gift of receiving help from others, acquire new skills as a nurse, and experience a deeper reliance on God through faith than ever before.
James 1: 2-4
perfectly captures the invaluable growth that takes place when we endure hardship.
If you find yourself pummeled beneath the crashing waves of life, remember that "God is faithful; He will not allow you to be tested beyond what you are able" (1 Corinthians 10:13). Lean into faith and community. Rely on tools that you've gained through previous experiences. And most importantly, don't be afraid to make changes, even changes that come with risk.
Before you know it, you'll be riding the very waves of life that before crashed down over you. And all the struggle will be worth that moment.
