The Art of Showing Up For Yourself
Surfing vs. The Perfectionist
I’ve always wanted to try surfing. You know, that dreamy, effortless cool, slow-motion fantasy where the waves are perfect, the sun is setting just right, and the world suddenly makes sense. I blame Blue Crush for planting the idea that in a different life, maybe I could’ve been a surfer. You know, the girl who’s one with the ocean, catching waves like it’s second nature. But then reality kicks in, and I remember I’m the person who can barely balance on a yoga mat. Surfing seemed like the kind of thing other people do—the athletic, outdoorsy types. Me? I’d watch from the shore, while working on my much-needed tan.
But still, there was this pull. The itch to try was there, lingering in the back of my mind, waiting for the right moment. Then, for reasons I still don’t entirely understand, I signed up for a surfing retreat—Marnie Rays in Cornwall. A week of surfing and, apparently, confronting all the things I’ve avoided my entire life.
I signed up, somewhat-excited and mostly-terrified, but there was still one small problem: I hadn’t been in a large body of water in... well, longer than I care to admit. I actually had to check if I still owned a swimsuit. I did, but the fact that I had to check says it all. The idea of getting into the water, let alone surfing, was a big one for me. But me being, well, me, I couldn’t be the one person at the retreat who didn’t go in. So there I was, wrestling into a wetsuit for the first time in my life, mentally preparing myself for what was about to come.
There I was, standing on the beach, board in hand, pretending I wasn’t panicking. This was it. Me versus the waves. Well, technically, me versus myself.
Perfectionism, my loyal companion.
I’ve spent most of my life believing that if I can’t be great at something, why bother? It’s not a conscious thought; it’s more of an underlying current that has shaped my decisions for years. If I’m not going to excel, why even start? I think a lot of people can relate to that—whether it’s a job, a hobby, or something simple like learning to cook. Perfectionism sneaks in and whispers, “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all.” It’s the kind of mindset that keeps you stuck.
That voice chimed in even before I touched the water: “This is a mistake. You’re not built for this, remember?” It was almost comforting, like an old friend warning me to stay safe in my bubble of mediocrity. But deep down, I knew that bubble was suffocating me. It had kept me safe, sure, but also kept me from taking risks, from experiencing the kind of growth that only comes when you're willing to risk getting it wrong.
Standing on the edge of the ocean, about to confront something I’d been avoiding for years—the possibility of being terrible at something—I tried desperately to ignore the voice in my head telling me that this was a mistake. I hadn’t even gotten into the water yet, and already, the perfectionist in me was prepared to call it a failure. That’s the thing about perfectionism—it convinces you that falling means failure. But surfing, as I quickly learned, doesn’t work like that.
The first time I fell off the board [approximately 1 minute in], my immediate thought was, “Well, that’s it. I failed.” But surfing has a funny way of teaching you things—lessons you didn’t even know you needed. Falling wasn’t failure; it was just part of the process. Every time I wiped out, it wasn’t the end of the attempt—it was just the next step in learning. Surfing doesn’t care if you’re perfect. It doesn’t even expect you to be good. It just asks that you show up, try, and keep going.
Each wave made me wonder: How many things had I missed out on in life because I didn’t want to risk failing? How many dreams did I let die quietly because I believed “good enough” wasn’t good enough for me? It’s as if with each wave, I was struck by how much I had let slip by, held back by my need for perfection. How many opportunities I let pass by because I was afraid of not getting it right on the first try. If I couldn’t be good, why even attempt it? That’s been my logic for most of my life. And here I was, tumbling off a surfboard, drenched, exhausted, and... weirdly content. I wasn’t great at surfing—honestly, I wasn’t even good. But for once, I didn’t care.
The waves don’t judge. They don’t measure your worth by how many times you fall. They just keep coming, asking you to get back up and try again. Life, like the waves, moves forward whether you fall or rise. And that’s what surfing taught me: you don’t have to be perfect to enjoy something. You don’t even have to be good. You just have to be willing to try, to fall, and to keep going. It’s a lesson that’s so simple, yet somehow so hard to grasp when you’ve spent your whole life believing that only the best is worth doing.
Surfing forced me to confront that perfectionist part of myself head-on. The part that’s always looking for the flaws, always waiting for the moment to say, “See? You’re not good enough.” The hard truth for me was: perfectionism doesn’t make life better. It makes it smaller. It narrows your world down to only the things you’re already good at, and it keeps you from exploring the messiness of life—the parts that are unpredictable, challenging, and sometimes even fun.
It wasn’t just the physical act of surfing that got to me—it was the clarity it brought. I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t have any distractions. It was just me, the board, and the ocean. There was no room for overthinking, no space for the perfectionist voice to take over. And in that stillness, I realized something: I’ve been measuring myself against impossible standards for so long that I forgot what it felt like to just be. And in that space, I found something I hadn’t realized I was missing: the ability to let go. To stop measuring my worth by how well I performed, and instead, to just be in the moment.
I’m not going to be a professional surfer. That much is clear. Still, I’d love to keep doing it, because it reminded me that life isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing up, trying, and letting yourself fail without letting it define you. It’s about embracing the things that make you uncomfortable and learning that you’re capable of so much more than you think.
If I hadn’t tried surfing, I wouldn’t have had this shift I didn’t even realize I needed. I wouldn’t have experienced the breathwork that cracked me open in a way I didn’t expect. I wouldn’t have laughed as much as I did, or experienced the beauty of Cornwall, nor would I have met the friends I now can’t imagine not knowing. You don’t have to be perfect at something to get something out of it. Sometimes, just showing up gives you so much more than you could have planned for.
So, no, I’m not a great surfer. I’m not even a good one. But what I’ve learned is that I don’t need to be. Because the joy isn’t in the perfection—it’s in the trying. It’s where the pressure lifts, and we simply get to be. It’s in the moments when you let yourself fall and realize that falling isn’t failure. It’s just the next step toward something bigger.
And maybe that’s the lesson I needed all along. Not how to be perfect, but how to be okay with imperfection. How to let life be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes really fucking difficult. Because that’s where the real growth happens—not in the moments when everything goes right, but when you let yourself get it wrong.
Life doesn’t wait for you to be perfect. It just asks that you show up.
— The Friday Club — A digital hangout where movie nights, shower epiphanies, and life's charming chaos collide. From writer and creator Ash [of @the.ashfiles], expect weekly musings, honest stories, and a reminder that we’re all just winging this thing called “adulthood”. 🎬✍🏻📚
I love this !