I wish I knew how to quit you, surfing.
Some days I wish I could quit surfing. There are too many damaged relationships left in its wake. It’s just too consuming. There’s too much to think about, too many unlikely aspirations and unfulfilled goals, too many potential waves missed. It exhausts me just thinking about it.
One of the hard truths I have come to realize is that unless I go completely feral and abandon everything and everyone I know, I might never be truly satisfied by surfing. Is it reasonable to feel like this? Can your raison d’être simultaneously be your Achilles’ heel? Surfing should make me happy; not angry, frustrated, edgy, guilty… I could go on.
I’m not the most decisive person, and surfing makes this character flaw a whole lot worse. I get constant flack from friends and family for not being able to commit to things more than a few hours in advance. This indecision and commitment phobia has been accentuated by my love of surfing. How can you possibly say that you will do something during the last weekend in October when it is far too early to know what the waves will be doing? It’s selfish and it’s frustrating, but it’s a surfer’s reality.
I’m sure this is easier for people who live within easy distance of a surf spot, but where I live, surfing is not a quick dip for an hour or two. At the very least, it’s a whole day’s commitment. Not being tied to one spot definitely has its advantages. I have equidistant coastline to choose from in nearly every compass direction, as well as the islands just a ferry ride away. Admittedly, there are only a couple of months each year which permit surfing in anything less than a hooded full suit, booties and gloves, and the weather is often brutal, but within range there is pretty much every type of wave you can think of. I’m sure this sounds like a dream to some of you, but this much choice can be a curse.
You spend endless hours going back and forth over maps and forecasts, never quite sure that you’re making the right choice. When you do finally decide which direction to drive in, you waste a lot of time checking spots when you should be in the water, or end up surfing poor waves when you’ve optimistically bypassed better ones. Even worse–often you commit your whole weekend to waves which don’t show up at all. In which case you’re left sitting in your van in the middle of no-where, stewing over the obligations you’ve palmed off, and raised voices you’ve left hanging in the air at home.
I can’t help but question the time I commit to surfing. What exactly do I hope to achieve? What good does it do if I come home satisfied after getting one or two good waves? My guilt-ridden satisfaction and desire to “make it up” to whomever I have let down each time cripples me, every time.
Without being too morbid, I do sometimes wonder how I’ll feel when my time here is done. Will I be grateful for the fact I was self-serving, chased waves and got “one or two good ones”, or regretful of the fact that I didn’t do more for the people that needed me around?
I’m not in the habit of making New Year’s resolutions (entirely symptomatic of my commitment issues) but this year I wanted to. The only thing I could think of was to surf more–but I do wonder how long my conscience will allow me to commit to that.
