The Ripple Effect of a Random Ocean Rescue
I don’t remember their names - but I’ll forever remember their faces. Father + daughter, playing in the big waves in Kure Beach, NC. We were there for a short family adventure to soak in sunshine + play in the salt water. It was our final full day on the island and we were all up for a bit of spontaneous exploration - so we left the rental with no plans and ended up at Fort Fisher State Park.
By the time we got to the water’s edge, the sun was low in the sky. The waves were pretty steady, but more enticing than they’d been all week with strong rip current warnings. We hadn’t planned on swimming again - so the girls danced at the shoreline, fully dressed.
I’m not sure if it’s my experience as a former lifeguard or my massive respect for mama nature or being a mama myself - probably all three - but anytime we’re near the water’s edge, I notice that I’m constantly scanning.
On this evening, I noticed a group of kids playing about 100+ meters south of us. As time passed, I noticed that they were drifting closer. Thirty minutes later, one of the girls from their group was directly in front of us and about 50+ meters offshore. It caught my attention and she seemed OK. When another person joined her, I exhaled for a bit thinking they must be there intentionally. It looked like they were playing + riding the swells as the waves came through.
People on the beach continued to play in the sand + by the water’s edge. No one else seemed phased by what was unfolding - not even those in their group down the beach - so I dug my feet into the sand (hello, mindfulness), noticed the waves of anxiety washing through my internal world and continued to sit beachside.
And then a shout from the water,
“HELP!”
I jump up to my feet and walked over to the water’s edge, unclear if I heard what I thought I heard. My husband joined me. A few seconds later:
“HELP! I NEED HELP!”
I felt time stand still.
I went into assessment and rescue mode, knowing my mental skills and boundaries were just as important as my physical strength.
My husband turned to me and asked, “Are you going in or am I?”
It took me a few seconds to assess the scene: I had no flotation device; I could hear the panic in the man’s voice; I had no idea how big the man was; I wasn’t familiar with the water. My husband is certainly stronger and taller, but he’s not comfortable in the water. I am an Olympic Gold Medalist swimmer with a lifetime of swimming and lifeguarding experience, still strong in the water.
I knew I could rely on my physical strength; I also knew I could trust myself fully - mentally and emotionally.
I paused to check in with myself - to quickly identify my own boundaries.
I stepped into the ocean and was able to pull the girl out of the water. Her dad, once free to swim on his own, made it to shore safely.
Both of them exhausted, panicked and so thankful.
Once on the beach, I sat down next to the teen girl - and stepped fully into mental health first aider mode. She was shaking and so apologetic; while I couldn’t relate to the details of her lived experience, I could relate to the massive emotions she was experiencing.
I sat with her as she moved her way through the waves that shook her internally.
I learned that she loves art + poetry. She navigates asthma like me. She just turned 15.
At one point, I looked up at her dad and said,
“I’m so grateful you asked for help. I wasn’t sure if you were playing or in distress.”
He looked up at me and said,
“That was hard for me.
I’ve been working my whole life to be able to say that.”
Whoa.
The timing of it all felt surreal - divine really.
Back at our rental, I was in the process of constructing four keynotes. We were in Carolina Beach in part because I had a really intense stretch of work planned and was craving time with my girls.
It seemed like every day we were hearing about another tragic death by suicide. Internally, I was feeling the magnitude of losses of young people to suicide - knowing that might have been my story if I hadn’t got the help I needed when I was in the depths of darkness post Olympics - knowing there’s more we can do collectively to end this crisis.
The thread that ran through each one of my presentations was this rumble with “help” + ways to move through that rumble.
There’s a growing conversation happening around the globe and it’s hope-giving.
Intellectually, there’s consensus that asking help is brave and important. A cultural shift - especially inside the athletic arena.
And.
Emotionally, when we’re in the depths of struggle, in the moments when we need help the most, the fear of being perceived as weak is still so pervasive, so gripping.
Even in 2022, with as much progress as we’ve made, many of us still battle an inner resistance that prevents us from taking that next best step.
I’m no exception.
When I find myself falling back on old pathways of soloist thinking - grinding + ‘just trying harder’ + believing that it’s worth more if I go it alone, I pause and ask myself:
If I could ask for help, what would I ask for?
Then, gently, I ask - What’s stopping me?
And again, gently - What’s the cost if I do? What’s the cost if I don’t?
//
I’m not sure what led that man to do the work he mentioned. Gosh, I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if he tried to push through or go it alone. Though, if I’m being totally honest, my brain has gone there many times as it’s tried to process the events of that day.
On our walk back to the car, Littlest (then 5) says to me,
“MOM. I AM SO GLAD YOU’RE AN OLYMPIC GOLD MEDAL SWIMMER.”
Up until that moment, I hadn’t even thought of how the experience landed for my four girls who were front row, watching the events unfold.
Later that night, we sat around the kitchen table of the rental and each family member took a turn sharing their version of the story - what they saw; what they were thinking + feeling; and how they felt now.
It was a lot.
I reached out to my people to help me process - because this isn’t work we do alone.
We’re simply not meant to be soloists.
Connection is a critical part of our wellbeing; it’s healing + uplifting + grounding + necessary.
And, in order for us to authentically connect, we must be willing to let ourselves be seen.
Truly seen. Even when we’re in the midst of the of messier, harder parts-seen.
Those moments of struggle don’t expose us as frauds; they aren’t proof of our not-enoughness; they’re evidence of our humanity.
It’s been two months, and I think about that moment often.
It’s a powerful reminder that YES, securing more resources for mental health + reducing barriers to access is critical
AND, we must learn how to navigate the landscape of our internal world.
Like the man who’s name I’ll never know - we must learn how to turn toward the things that scare us; and we must learn how to ask for + receive help.
It may be life saving.
It’s the bravest work.
And, it’s work we can do.
Together.
Over the past six months, I’ve been pouring into a project that’s been a lifetime in the making. A dream manifesting in real time - fueling my servant heart - filling me with excitement + hope + optimism + agency. I cannot wait to share more with you. For now, I’ll say that it’s related to this blog post - and is going to help us shift from awareness into aligned action. My hope is that it inspires, empowers + equips our youth + young people with the skills they need to thrive. To be first to know details, be sure you’ve subscribed to my newsletter - via www.samanthalivingstone.com or shoot us a message @ www.samanthalivingstone.com/connect
Until next time!
Samantha Arsenault Livingstone is an Olympic gold medalist, high-performance consultant, keynote speaker and mental health advocate. In 2016, Samantha founded Livingstone High Performance and the Whole Athlete Initiative (the WAI) in response to the mental health crisis impacting adolescents across the globe. LHP provides pillars of support to organizations, teams and individuals to elevate mental health and improve performance.
In 2020, Samantha co-founded WholeHealth Sport to equip coaches and parents with the training, skills and support needed to change the narrative, culture and game regarding mental well-being in sport.
In addition to 1:1 coaching, Samantha consults with teams and organizations on wellness initiatives, mindful leadership, strategic planning, and developing high-performance cultures. She is a certified instructor of Mental Health First Aid for adults working with youth and a facilitator of Mindful Sports Performance Enhancement.
Samantha and her husband, Rob, live in New England with their four daughters. To learn more about her offerings, go over to www.samanthalivingstone.com.