Sea swimming and self-harm; the delicious apple bite of a paradigm of existing ecstatically without giving up your naked ambition to feel dead inside, in a fiery way, from time to time.

Sea swimming. It’s good for your health, is it the same as brushing your teeth? It makes you feel good, clean. There are mysterious health benefits, ask any follower of the Hof. You know?

I discovered sea swimming in the postpartum apocalypse of my existence. My shoulders and back were in pieces from holding the feed position with my newborn son 24/7 through the night without stop following an emergency c-section due to eclampsia/pre-eclampsia/whateverthefuckwentwrong. The icy waters of April’s seas embraced me and saved me.

To be at one with the soul numbing and eyeball watering water, you have to let go of every electron of tension in your flesh, muscle and bone. Like motherhood, sea swimming is a surrender. Bathing in mother nature’s ice scream takes practice.

Sea swimming in freezing cold temperatures allows me to safely, peacefully and wholesomely connect with the part of my true self that craves to be annihilated. My self-destruct habit is soothed, nurtured and shushed. I love it!