My love of learning also encompasses sometimes (okay, most times) being an obsessively high achiever. Standing up on a surfboard was an enormous accomplishment for a person who believed her body could only withstand limited impact.
But after twenty-four hours of absorbing that achievement, I decided I needed to throw my body into the sport. On a walk before a surf session, I bought magnesium spray to alleviate muscle pain. Later in the water, I tried to keep pace with Kat, my teammate for the week, attempting to get up every time she did.
At dinner after our second day of surfing, a new friend shared she did not feel sore and did self-massage every evening before bed. As she shared her technique, I tried to listen while my inner critic chastised me for packing my yoga ball but forgetting to use it. In my room later that night, I diligently rolled my muscles.
The next morning, I went to restorative yoga, got a massage, and drank a glass of crisp, refreshing cava at lunch.
“I’m taking it easy on myself,” I repeated, “This is a vacation.”
Then I showed up for my sunset surf session and discovered rage at my body’s unwillingness to keep up with what I perceived to be everyone else’s much stronger bodies. As the light twinkled on the deliciously warm water, I argued internally with my fatigued muscles while my face displayed a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. Halfway into our ninety-minute session, I finally accepted my exhaustion and stood on the edge of the water for a break.
Martín, my intuitive surf coach, approached me and asked how I felt.
“I’m good, I just need a few minutes,” I replied with a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh.
“Are you sure?” He pressed.
“Yeah,” I maintained my smile as the tears started, hoping the salt water masked them.
As Martín stood there, recognizing my mini-lie, I realized I had a choice to either shut down and leave for the day, or I could be vulnerable and explain what I felt to someone who might be able to help me. So I allowed my words to tumble, revealing the intense perfectionism I usually only talked about in jest.
“I don’t like being a beginner,” I said to end my soliloquy.
As he responded that he enjoyed feeling the exact vulnerability I avoided, I wondered when my ability to embrace a beginner’s mindset evaporated, replaced by a decision to pursue only projects where I might achieve “perfection.”
I also remembered my intention for the week, “playful connection,” and realized I’d veered in the opposite direction.
After breathing through the emotion, my coach helped me surf one more wave to end the session. I walked to the hotel, drank the juice from a fresh coconut while sitting in the cool, tree-lined pool, then stretched before getting ready for dinner.
At our sunset drinks that evening I sat on the sand and talked with a woman from New York who I met and swam with on our first afternoon in Nosara. The light, land, air, and sense of safety opened a freedom for us to talk about childhood ways we felt ready to release, alternating with a silent appreciation for the shared magical experiences so far, as the sherbet oranges and yellows in the sky muted with the setting sun.
Sofia is a writer, NUSHU Facilitator, and Hatha Vinyasa yoga teacher. After earning her masters degree in education she spent nine years teaching in the classroom, until a back injury that placed her on disability. During this time of introspection, rest, and healing, she found NUSHU. Her intention is to lead conversations and experiences that foster connection and self-love. She writes essays about self-advocacy, struggles, and fulfillment with chronic pain. Sofia lives in Puerto Rico and loves swimming, reading, and her robust cat Brooklyn. Check out more of her writing on her Substack, Removing the Smileveil.