Raising Elves

As wild as nature. Myself, parenting and natural remedies blog.

Wave Riding (when depression ends)


It’s no secret that life is tidal.

Up and down, back and forth.

Always moving, sometimes crashing.

Some of us handle it better than others.

Some are riding bigger waves.

But we’ve all had to learn to ride them.

Some are natural born wave-riders.

Others are swallowing buckets of salt water and barely reaching the surface for air.

Magnificents were born deep under the water but found their way out and won life over.

Then there were those of us who were born wave-riders but trauma set us back.


That is me. I was born upright, skimming those waves on fearless feet.

But I got hit.



By a car.

When I was ten.

I left my body.

I came back into it.


Fearful. With a hole inside of me.

When I recovered, I built myself a ship. So I could ride the waves of life, protected.

Although I was protected behind this hard steel shell. I was dry.

This ship floated from destination to destination,

I stayed dry while I watched others surf, and fall.

Then surf and thrive.

Inspired, I might have dived back in again.

Only to quickly swim back to ship because I’ve forgotten how.

Then after a while, you realise your life is stuck.

There you are, sitting on your empty ship, listening to the ominous creeks,

trying to remember,

when you used to be wet,

and alive.

So you work on a way to dive back in.

You tie a rope around your waist and dive in, only to pull yourself back up.

Unfinished business.

You keep trying. Waiting.

Waiting for the clouds to lift.

You experiment with chemistry to see if they’ll go away.

All kinds of tricks.

Everything. You try everything.

Sometimes, if you are lucky, you find the formula.

Sometimes there is no formula but you have to find a way to just ride the storms.

Bring your crazy to the ocean because those clouds are going nowhere.


When the depression lifts and you feel like your real self again…

It’s magic.

I’m ready to cut that rope and dive in.

To clear, fresh moments and cloudy aspirations.

Coming up for simple, deep breaths, for no reason.

Not to relax or unwind or to become mindful.

Just me right there, breathing that air, with no need for a reason.

Or an explanation.

Or a purpose.

Just being.


Of course, I have to start from the beginning.

I have to relearn everything- joy, peace, survival.

There I am, in the deep with unborn souls, babies, kids and the plenty of adults who,

like me,


For whatever reason.

My arms are weak but they keep going. Once I get afloat I’ll find it.

My wave.

And I’ll f*cking own it.

You will see me soon, at the shore, and we will ride alongside one another.

And I’ll realise that there is room for me on this Earth.

I have a place.

Then we’ll meet on the beach, light a fire, laugh.

We’ll look at the stars,

and I will feel the universe in my belly,


And for the first time, in a long time,

I will want to be alive.


Radical Face: Welcome Home



19 thoughts on “Wave Riding (when depression ends)

  1. Oh I have no words – this expresses so honestly and beautifully what you feel. Such an emotive post – I am so sorry for what happened, and I am sure you will find the strength to get through this. Much love to you, Kaz x

  2. A really powerful post that does so much to try and ‘explain’ the feelings of depression. I’m so glad you are out the other end and positive again 🙂


  3. Wow Laura, this describes depression so amazingly well. Congratulations to be on the other side. Beautiful beautiful piece.

  4. Amazing words, you’ve got a wonderful way of expressing what depression feels like. I’m so glad you are through it xx

  5. So beautiful, what a wonderful way to get your message across and reach others suffering 🙂 H x

  6. So sorry to hear about the car accident. Going through an episode of trauma can really affect your mental health but your beautiful poem is so awe inspiring and your dedication to sharing your story is wonderful x

    • Thanks. I never had the car accident on my radar, as a trauma. It’s only when you reach the inner layer of that onion you’re peeling back you discover where it all started.

  7. Wow, what a powerful post! The car accident sounds awful, I’m so sorry for what you have been through. You have explained depression so well! Absolutely fantastic post. xx

  8. This has made me cry. I am suffering with pnd. This is so beautifully written and so honest. This gives me hope xx

    • Oh Kerry, thanks for posting. There really is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s a process. Take it easy on yourself and know that you’ll get there. x

  9. This is so beautiful. This poem is so inspiring. It sounds like you’ve been on quite a journey, but coming through the other end is amazing. I remember the first day I felt genuinely alive again and hopeful and purposeful. It was a feeling I’ll never forget because it had been so long. I can tell you where I was, how the air felt, the colours all around me. It’s such an incredible feeling coming out the other side. x

    • Wow. So lovely to hear from someone who has been in this exact place. Thanks for letting me know. You are so right, your senses just come alive again and they all intertwine in the memory. I never realised how dull my senses had gone- not noticing scents, or lighting, or colours. It’s only when you come out the other side and start to notice all the beauty that you realise what you’d been missing. I appreciate more now.

  10. This is so full of hope and wonderful words. There is so much that so many people can take from this. I am so very sorry to hear of what you went through. Your poem is inspirational and I love how you have compared people – very accepting of how we all differ. I wish you all the best on your road to recovery. I feel like I am coming out of the other side of something different and I can associate with many of these words. Thank you for linking to Prose for Thought x

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