When I was younger, friends and family used to tell me that I could write a book about all the things that had happened in my life. I always thought that was a strange thing to say, because generally the things that had 'happened' to me involved me getting caught in the wake of other people's stories. 

Over the years I have pondered writing a book of some sort, usually in an area of professional interest or educational in nature; a series of educational children's books on the fragility of the Earth, research on Education for Sustainability in the Early Years (before it was cool), Yoga for Pain and Fatigue Management. Just thinking about it makes me exhausted and quite frankly, bored. I'm sure it would have all been very productive and may even have been of use to someone somewhere, but alas, like so many things in my life, due to chronic illness, it was never meant to be.

However, with the turning of another year, and as I rapidly barrel towards my 40th birthday, I feel drawn to the need for a creative outlet to help me a) let go of a lot from the last 40 years and b) start living a life that meets me in the here and now, not a version of myself I think I ‘should’ be but yet never seem to live up to. It feels like I've spent the younger years of my life weighed down, carrying other people's stories and their expectations of me, feeling guilty and that I am somehow living as a shadow in my own life. As I reach this milestone, entering another decade, I realise I am at a crossroads. I can continue as I am, a deeply sad people-pleaser with chronic guilt and shame for just existing, or I can start to live my life, finding happiness, just as I am.

There will be times when I write a lot and there will be long periods when I won’t write anything, but that is the nature of a fluctuating disability and chronic illness. I will talk about my own journey with chronic illness, diagnosis and my experiences of disability. I will share some educational snippets that have helped me on my journey, some based on my own academic and professional study and some based on that of others (always appropriately referenced). Sometimes I will simply talk about my love for the ocean and share my connection and experiences as I go, from beach walks, fossiling, shell and driftwood collecting or sea ‘dipping’ and swimming. Other days, when words are trickier, I will share my experiences visually through photographs and art. Mostly these will be from along my home shoreline in the South of England, but occasionally I may share travels and adventures beyond the wilds of the South Coast. Think of ‘The Salty Soul’ as a spiritual smorgasbord to dip in and out of, to pick and choose what interests you most.

My creative endeavours may have little interest to those of you that have found my little corner of the internet, but The Salty Soul is a space that has no expectation. It is simply one that wants to share life experience and the natural beauty that surrounds us. If that brings a glimmer of joy to someone’s day, then that’s a good day.

A thalassophile (pronounced thuh-LASS-uh-file) is defined as someone who feels a deep, spiritual connection to the ocean and the shoreline.  A thalassophile feels a magnetic pull towards the coast, finding calm and healing when they are near but conversely, feels incomplete when they are not. This profound sense of connection requires frequent exposure to the sights and sounds of the waves, the smell and taste of the salty air and the feeling of being close to Mother Ocean.

I wasn’t born by the sea, in fact I spent the first two years of my life in the urban home counties, of which I have no recollection. However, I did spend many of my formative years growing up 500 yards from the ocean in a well-known Dorset seaside town. As was symptomatic of my childhood and adolescence, we moved a lot and when I was a tween we moved further inland once again. I then spent a decade of my young adult life working my way back to the coast. Whilst I now only live 15 minutes drive from the sea with my own family, I’d much prefer a front row seat without a car drive, but as with much in life, practicality dictates.

So why do I identify as a thalassophile? Those few years spent living a few hundred yards from the shoreline are some of my fondest memories as a child. Not because my family ever really spent time together on the beach, but perhaps because they didn’t. It was my own place to be quiet, find solitude and oneness all at the same time. Even as a very young child, and an only child until my eighth year, I enjoyed my own company and what I now recognise as an adult, I found the company of others challenging and overwhelming. Being by the ocean drowned out all of the world outside of that moment. As a quiet, nervous child, something of an introvert (again with the lens of hindsight and years of therapy), I realise that when I was by the sea, it was the only time that I truly felt happy. A quiet away from the chaos of my environment. I was fascinated with the ocean and everything that lived in it, especially sharks and cetaceans. I’d spend hours poring over non-fiction books and disseminating the information into my own homemade wildlife fact sheets, lovingly illustrated. I loved collecting shells and pebbles, watching the waves, but ironically, due to a bad experience with an untrustworthy adult and a dinghy at a young age, I actually fear being in the water! Ridiculous I know, even as an almost 40-year-old, I have only just admitted this to those closest to me. I can swim, I’m a good swimmer and I will wade in shallow waters but only if I can see the bottom, which pretty much rules out getting in the Solent waters. I have enlisted the help of a sea swimming friend to help me conquer that fear and try sea dipping/swimming in the Spring. It is something I have always wanted to do – so watch this space!

But I digress…despite my current fear of deep and dark water, I love to be near it or on it (I do love boats) the sound, the smell, the taste of the air, the ever-changing landscape and the ability to find love in it all year round. Every season bringing something new and captivating. Just thinking about being near the ocean can bring me to tears. Just the other day I went for a walk, only for an hour, along one of the many stretches of coastline near us, and spent my time collecting driftwood. I wanted to cry with happiness, it was literally bubbling out of me, the simple pleasure and oneness in that moment. I love it. It’s not that I just love it, I feel incomplete when I am too far away from the shore or away for too long… Like a magnetic pull is acting upon me every second and every mile away from the sea.

Life is busy and chronic illness and disability mean that I can’t practically go to the beach everyday but I struggle without a visit to the beach at least once a week. It might be idealistic but I’d like to think if I could live a few minutes’ walk from the shoreline, that I could visit every day and perhaps have a moment of happiness and completeness at least once every day. What would that feel like and what impact would that have on my overall wellbeing?

For now, I am grateful for the time I do get to spend there and as a keen amateur photographer, collector of fossils, shells and driftwood, I get to take little pieces of it home to lessen the yearning.