The Cold Wave That Made Me Stop Doing Sh*t I Hate - Spain & Morocco Part 6
I recently went on a trip to Spain and Morocco that turned out to be one of the hardest experiences I’ve had in a long time. Over the next few weeks, I’ll continue sharing the lessons and stories that came out of it. My intent is not to rehash the drama, but to explore the human experience when life doesn’t go the way we planned.
Sometimes the most beautiful growth hides inside the messiest moments.
These posts will be written in a more personal, I/Me storytelling style, but no matter where you live, where you’ve traveled, or what you’re walking through right now, I think you’ll find a piece of your own story in mine.
They’ll be a bit longer than usual, but don’t worry, here is the link to the audio version if you’d rather listen.
The freezing water to my face feels like I’m in a knife fight with the ocean. Since I didn’t surf yesterday because I couldn’t move my neck to the left, I thought I would be more excited about surfing with the retreat group today. But when I put on my smelly, marshmallow costume, I mean wetsuit, my chest was heavy with dread.
You love surfing. You love the ocean. Just get out there and you’ll be fine.
I do love surfing, and I do love the ocean, but not in Morocco with freezing water and reckless surf schools. Now that I am out in the ocean, I am not excited at all.
The waves are nice here. Just focus on learning more about surfing.
I see a good-sized wave coming and get excited about catching it, especially now that I am feeling slightly more agile in a wetsuit. With much more grace than the last few sessions, I catch the wave and start riding down the line as five other people who aren’t even paying attention take off in front of me. This is the equivalent of a car pulling out into oncoming traffic and not looking. Because I don’t want to hit them, I pull off the wave, even though I had priority.
It's frustrating that I can’t even enjoy surfing here.
I look around to see where the rest of the retreat group is. I can’t see them, which isn’t totally surprising because I can’t see anybody at a distance without my glasses. But usually, it’s not a problem because I can identify people by their bathing suits or boards. Since everybody in the water is wearing a full-body black wetsuit and using rental boards, everybody looks the same. I start paddling around frantically looking for the group.
What if I faint again? How am I going to get help?
I am having a mild anxiety attack, but I know it’s not making matters better, so I breathe and attempt to regulate my emotions. At the very least, I’m comforted by the sheer number of people in the water.
Surely if I were to pass out again, someone could help me.
I see a good-quality and nice-sized wave coming my way. Instead of caring about where everyone else is and if I am going to faint again, I paddle for the wave and catch it. It’s so fun! And surprisingly for this feral crowd, I am able to ride it pretty close to the shore.
As the wave ends, I see our retreat group sitting further on the inside. I paddle over to join them. I say to the retreat owner, “I’m so glad I found you guys. It made me anxious to lose the group in case I faint again.”
“You’ll be fine. You’re not going to faint,” she says before ignoring me and paddling over to someone else.
Okay….
Riding from the high of my last wave, I go to catch another wave, but I’m thwarted by a mob of surfers who are paddling at full throttle and not giving a shit about safety or priority or any surf etiquette at all. I paddle to reposition myself for the next wave, which is getting harder because my hands are half-numb from the freezing water.
Another wave comes through and stabs me in the face with its iciness as I glide over the top.
I hate this.
I hate this cold water.
I hate this reckless crowd.
I hate this wetsuit.
I hate surfing here.
Wait… Why am I doing this to myself?
I spent most of my life doing shit I didn’t actually want to do.
I went to college when I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, but I went along with what my family and society wanted me to do.
I worked a corporate job for over twenty years, even though I hated it and it was killing my soul because it was the “safe” and “secure” thing to do.
I over-achieved at jobs because I was in the rat race to work harder and make more money, even though the corporate game doesn’t reward the smartest and hardest working, and many of my workplaces were extremely toxic and mentally unhealthy, but I thought you had to suffer to earn money.
I used to run marathons, not because I loved running, but because I loved to torture myself, because I was never happy with who I was, so pushing myself to run faster and be more athletic felt like I could prove my worth through something.
I restricted food and beat myself up in the gym lifting weights because I was disgusted with my body, and nothing was ever good enough, even when I had six-pack abs.
I tolerated toxic relationships that destroyed my self-worth because I thought that was all I deserved.
I endured years of brutally cold and windy Chicago winters because I didn’t think anything better was available to me.
For decades, I lived a life based on obligation, fear, and self-abandonment. I was living by other people’s rules, and I was exhausted, chronically anxious, and hated myself.
I have spent the last five years undoing all of this shit, and now I’m happy and fulfilled because I love and respect myself too much to do anything that doesn’t light me up and make me happy.
An epiphany knocks me over the head with the intensity of these cold waves: I have a choice. I don’t have to do this to myself.
F*ck this shit.
I paddle in. I don’t tell anyone in the group that I’m going in because nobody seems to give a shit about my safety anyway. But that’s okay. Because I care about my safety, and that starts with getting away from these crazy, careless surfers and out of this cold water.
I feel liberated knowing that I am taking my power back over my physical and emotional safety. I’ve only been surfing three times here, but I’m not surfing the rest of the week because surfing in Morocco is not for me.
And that’s okay.
After taking a warm shower, the wind immediately deposits a new layer of dust all over me, so I decide to go for a walk while I wait for everybody to finish their surf session. From the elevated cliff, I see a few guys and a dog on the beach struggling with something. As I get closer, I see that it is a beached dolphin.
They are trying to get it back into the water, but it’s too embedded in the sand. I stop and watch. After a while, they give up. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s already dead or they know their attempts are futile.
A dead dolphin seems like appropriate symbolism for this trip so far.
But it also feels like an omen.
(To be continued in Part 7)
Glow Tip:
When “Pushing Through” Becomes Self-Abandonment
In Morocco, I kept telling myself to tough it out through the cold water, the reckless crowd, the anxiety, the discomfort.
But the truth is, I wasn’t being “strong.” I was abandoning myself. Again.
For decades, I lived that way. Doing things I hated because they were expected of me and forcing myself through careers, environments, relationships, and routines that drained the life out of me, all in the name of being resilient, responsible, or grateful.
And that day, sitting on my board in freezing water, I finally heard the truth loud and clear: I wasn’t miserable because of the ocean. I was miserable because I was repeating an old pattern of tolerating what hurt me instead of choosing what honored me.
When I finally gave myself permission to stop, to paddle in, to opt out of something that felt wrong in my body, my entire nervous system exhaled.
That’s what self-love actually looks like: Not forcing yourself to endure what depletes you, but choosing yourself even when it’s inconvenient, unexpected, or “not what everyone else is doing.”
Because the moment you stop doing sh*t you hate, you stop surviving and finally start living.
When you live by your own rules, you start shining from the inside.
Ready to stop calling self-abandonment “strength”?
For years, you’ve pushed through discomfort, silenced your intuition, and stayed in places that drained you because that’s what strong, responsible women do… right?
You’ve been praised for your resilience, your grit, your ability to “handle it.” But at what cost?
True strength isn’t white-knuckling your way through what hurts.
It’s recognizing when your body says no.
It’s honoring your energy, your boundaries, your truth, especially when it’s inconvenient.
It’s choosing yourself, even when no one else understands.
The moment you stop forcing and start listening,
your nervous system exhales,
your heart softens,
and your life begins to feel like yours again.
If you’re ready to stop surviving and start living on your own terms…
Then, it’s time to book your free Find Your Glow session.
👉 https://www.runninginslippers.com/work-with-me
Here’s what you’ll get:
Clarity – Identify the hidden patterns blocking your confidence, abundance, and joy.
Compassion – Gently reconnect with your emotions and inner voice (without judgment).
Confidence – Leave with a personalized next-step plan to reignite your glow.
Because glowing isn’t about proving your worth. It’s about remembering you never had to.
With love and fire,
Angie
