Swallowing Water, But Still Moving

Imagine wading out to the open sea. Not for a paddle — towards a new beginning. Destination invisible. Knowing the currents could sweep you away.

Aiming for the tropical island dream. Be you, doing what you want. A simple life close to nature, loved ones, and all mod cons nearby.

That was eight months ago.

Out of your depth in April. Still able to swim back in June.

Now far out, drift-swimming. Ignoring the deep blue below.

That’s where I am today.

Eight months into a coaching and writing life. Therapist training progressing. Passion for all things African reignited. Collecting snippets for a book. Working from home.

Always with an eye on the olive trees.

Filling the hole that shedding a corporate identity left. Finding yourself. Remembering who you are.

Emotional goodbyes giving way to silent, hard work. Ignoring the doubt whispering behind your right ear.

Front crawl. One stroke after another. Maintaining course, knowing you’re at the whim of the gods. Trusting that wherever you end up, you’ll be fine.

Buffeted through waves of optimism and worry.

Monday morning. At your desk. Picking yourself up, pushing forward.

More clients, more readers.

Prove your worth. Someone will pay.

Little voice saying “It won’t work anyway”.

One hour on a Substack comment, not that invoice. You time-waster.

Deep breaths. Stillness. Clicking join.

Camera off, scrambling to remember what was said, asking yourself how you did?

No further news from the client. Not as many readers as you hoped.

Chopping through the ebb and flow.

Jolt after jolt. Losing healthy routines. A coffee chat turning into what the hell are you doing with your life?

Early morning meditation, yoga, brain quieted, calmed.

Talking it through. “Is it OK to trust yourself?” “What is holding you back?”

Currents drag you off course.

Reconnecting with your identity after many years away. Malawi in July. Immense, beautiful. Mesmerised by the landscapes.

Haunted by the school kids, with those big white eyes, not sure their school will ever reopen.

Women sitting on the dirt floor, peeling cassava. Still to be soaked, then boiled. Something to eat when everything else runs out.

Not sure what to do, now those Africa dreams you gave up at some point during your corporate life are back.

Letting go, drifting. 

Grasping those who tell you, "Don't turn back, keep going."

Giving up being an Olympic athlete, believing you can become an astronaut.

Occasionally, stopping to look for land. Or switching strokes. Sometimes, swallowing salt water.

The sun’s out. And the sky is blue.

The original of this piece is on Substack: @saltynsweetpopcorn