Changing My Identity

There's a narrator in the story of my life. Her name is My Identity. She has been studying the script and learning her lines for longer than I can remember. I used to believe her without question but now I often question her in disbelief! It's not her fault. She believed certain things about me when she heard people say them and she just kept repeating them to me to make sure I didn't forget. Sometimes I don't even know where she heard the things she tells me. Other times, if I stop to think I can figure it out. This story is about one of those times.

I was born seeing out of one eye at a time. This was not a major disability but one that came with a lack of depth perception. I often bumped into things as I tried to navigate my world. I did not have parents who were particularly invested in throwing a ball with me or really doing any kind of athletic activities so I never developed a love for sports. I was told that I was clumsy at a very young age.

My dad and I moved to Los Angeles from Detroit when I was 9. I looked like a boy to the other kids because I had really short hair and they thought I dressed weird because it was LA in the 70s which was a world away from where I came from. Needless to say I took a bit of ridicule from my classmates.

When P.E. time came the teachers chose the best athletes as team captains and I was always picked last. I often heard the captain who got me tell the other captain that he could have me even if it made him have less players on his team. My Identity quickly decided that I didn't like sports which was okay with me because She and I had already determined that I couldn't improve in them anyway. I was afraid of the ball in most games. Especially after a baseball hit me hard on the head when I was trying to catch it in the outfield at around 10 years old.

I married someone who supported the belief that My Identity had about my physical abilities. Why wouldn't he? I was sold so why would he think otherwise. My kids were raised often hearing laughter at me bumping into something or stumbling. I joined in on the laughter. After all, it could be quite funny at times and self depreciating humor feels better than being laughed at. Sometimes people just have little accidents but my narrator didn't allow for that kind of concession. My Identity knew I was clumsy so any bump or stumble reinforced that belief.

So now I find myself in Sri Lanka at one of the best beaches in the world for learning to surf. I have a daughter and son-in-law who wanted to learn here. I remember that one time at Myrtle Beach I tried a surf lesson with Chelsea and Stevie. I was in my early 40s and I couldn't get up on the board. I wasn't upset. I knew I was bad at sports. No big deal. I was just out there to have fun with my kids.

Okay, back to Sri Lanka. Chalsea encourages me to take a beginner lesson with them and I (half reluctantly) agree. I spend the hour almost getting up most of the time but always falling and never finding my balance. It's fun but I know that I can't improve. We try it again a few days later with almost the same results although I stay up twice to ride the baby waves with very wobbly legs. The next time Chelsea takes a lesson while I'm working and comes back so excited. She tells me that I need to go to this other instructor. The first one wasn't giving me much feedback and she's sure I will love this other guy's approach. A few days later we go back and take a lesson and I get up right away, ride for a little and fall off very happy! Throughout the hour I get up and fall a lot but I keep getting up and my rides are getting longer and longer! The teacher was amazingly encouraging and boosted my confidence incredibly.

I was excited about taking another lesson in a few days when Chelsea and Andrés rented boards without taking a lesson while I was working. They had a blast but I figured I was done. I didn't love it enough to take private lessons but I was surely not ready to go on my own and I was okay with that. After a couple of times out Chelsea insisted that I could do baby waves without an instructor. She had figured out herself how to just jump onto the whitewash and small waves and was confident that she could teach me how. If you have ever seen my daughter teach dance you know why I trusted her to get my body to do what it had to! She started by telling me when to go, then getting me to say when I thought I should go. I kept getting up on those little waves and finding my balance! Towards the end of the hour she went out to film me, confident that I could do it myself and I did! I chose 7 waves and rode them without falling and I can't wait to do it again!

I'm 56 now and have been teaching my narrator new lines for several years now. It turns out, with persistance, She can be taught to read a script I like or be completely silent for long periods of time. Everyone needs a vacation sometimes and she's worked hard for a long time now. I give her as much time off as I can! When She's quiet anything is possible.

Make sure your volume is on to hear the most supportive daughter ever.

I am forever grateful for the amazing gift this life is.