Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Sandy Beach

I grew up in a sandy beach town and that dictated my way of life while growing up. For as long as I can remember the beach was my happy place. I used to build elaborate sandcastles in the beating sun with my brothers and I would plunge fearlessly into the strong, salty waves. As I grew older I would face personal obstacles and have to learn new skills and information in order to keep that calm feeling the beach had always given me and for the beach to stay my happy place.

The first time I faced these new and intimidating obstacles was when I was a freshman in high school. I struggled with what I wanted my identity to be since everyone was testing the rough waters of high school and nobody was brave enough to just dive in and be who they are,

I was not given any lessons or instruction beforehand at all. My brother just jumped in and told me to do whatever he did. I struggled to follow along, paddling behind him as the incoming storm made the waves choppy and seem to have no pattern. I had always relied on the pattern of the waves to stay safe in the ocean, counting the seconds between wave sets and swells, but now I couldn’t. I would get knocked off my board and held under by the forceful current, wanting to give up every time I got back to the surface and the saltwater was burning my nose. My brother called to me and told me to keep pushing through, to be courteous of other surfers and not to give up. I paddled out making sure I was not in any other surfer’s direct line and paddling away when they were catching a wave near me. I was exhausted by the time I figured out how to get past the breaking waves and more experienced surfers. I even struggled learning to keep my balance when sitting on the board waiting for waves and whenever my brother tried to instruct me I didn’t understand what he was talking about. To say the least my first time out on the water was not a successful

When I finally got back out on the waves and did not stress about the proper techniques and form I was supposed to use; I just trusted myself. I was able to just learn through hands-on experience and just getting out in the line of waves. I practiced relentlessly until my body was able to take control and give my worrying mind a break. Now I can just walk up to the water with nothing but excitement, the same way I was able to when I was a young child. I can glide into the waves and feel happy instead of anxious when the crest of a wave bears down and sprays salty water in my face. It is like I turn on autopilot and I am able to paddle out and find the right spot where the swell is forming just right. All of the stress from learning how to surf the “right way” is pummeled when I pop up onto my feet and glide through the waves like the ocean is my