Ocean Life

Best boogie boarder. Everyone knows how much I love good waves, and want to board.

 Life right now is like a beach with a swath of broken shells. I’m ok crossing the hot sand and then broken shells, because I want the chance at good waves.

 I get to the ocean, broken shells still underfoot, and the waves are all but non-existent. I try again later, and even feel the need to go to a different part of the beach. I’m excited, and go. Still rough shells, and no waves.

 I look down the beach a ways both directions, and there are good waves there. I move down to try and catch the wave, and they disappear. I meet up with people who talk about how strong the waves are, and how it’s tough going in the water—too tough at times. I look in front of me, and there are no waves that I desperately want.

 I come back everyday, changing the time and part of the beach; hoping for something other than broken shells instead of sand, and even half-way decent waves so I can boogie board. Everyday is a disappointment. No matter what I try, or where I go, the one thing I want seems impossible.

 Family.
A job that’s not like stepping on sharp, broken shells everyday.

 I talk to others on the beach that have good waves, and talk them through how to navigate the ocean’s tides, but it’s difficult to explain adequately—it’d be easier to demonstrate. I celebrate their little victories, and find myself critiquing let downs. Then realize, who am I to judge—I have gone so long out of the ocean, who’s to say I wouldn’t try, only to do it worse?

 It gets to the point that I doubt I’ll ever have a decent wave. I don’t even want to show up to the beach anymore. The constant disappointment hurts my heart, and my soul. Yet I know if I don’t show up, I’ll have no chance. I decide to forget everything, and just go in the ocean a little bit. Forget boogie boarding. Forget the satisfaction of cresting over waves, only to see a great one to ride behind it. I’m tired of sitting on broken shells. It hurts. I’m tired of watching everyone else in the water. It hurts.

 So I went in a little bit, even though nothing about it seemed tempting. In fact, it seemed like a riptide would probably be there. Lo and behold, I got caught in a riptide. I got out soon enough, but I didn’t escape completely unscathed.  I liked being in the water, but this water is so off. It’s not how it’s supposed to be. So I’m still frustrated. And hurt. Body (feet), soul.

I’m feeling utterly hopeless. I don’t know how to get what I want. People say wait for a change in tide. I’ve been waiting ages already, and nothing has changed. It has changed for so many others. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Hoped that when I switched beaches, things would’ve changed. I’ve tried being proactive/productive, but nothing works. Broken shells still crunch underfoot, and placid waves loom ahead.

Waiting for a perfect wave...or even a somewhat decent one...seems futile. I don’t know how to have faith that it’ll come for me.