Connection

May 23, 2025
2 min read

The Healing Power of Water and Connection

Yesterday, we headed out as a family, bathing suits packed, already knowing where we were going to swim. It was meant to be a refreshing break—a bit of movement, some time in nature, and a way to reconnect. But what we didn’t expect was how one brief encounter would leave such a lasting impression.

As we arrived, we saw a woman already in the water. She moved slowly and gracefully through the water, with the kind of ease that comes from familiarity and trust. When she noticed us, she swam closer and struck up a conversation, her eyes warm and her voice full of life.

She told us she’s 65 and swims here regularly. “I used to feel so stiff, so achy,” she said, “but swimming changed that. My joints don’t hurt like they used to. I feel... free.” And then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “My mind feels clearer too. It’s like a reset button.”

There was a quiet strength in the way she spoke. Not just about the physical relief, but the mental release, the way water becomes a refuge. And in her words, we found something deeply human—a reminder that care, for our bodies and our minds, doesn’t need to be complicated. It can be as simple as showing up for ourselves in the water.

As we swam together—our youngest adult son, his girlfriend and us, I noticed how our connection seemed to deepen. We laughed more. We looked each other in the eye. The busyness that often follows us like a shadow seemed to lift. In the gentle rhythm of swimming, something softened between us. We were more present. More open.

That woman, in her quiet way, reminded us that wellness isn’t always about doing more. Sometimes it’s about slowing down. About letting the water hold you. About sharing space, not just physically, but emotionally.

We went swimming for fun, for fitness—but we left with something more. A reminder that healing often comes not in big, dramatic waves, but in quiet ripples of connection, movement, and kindness.

Take care

Helen & Steve

Comments

Why it can be hard to open up in counselling

I’ve been having counselling for a few months now and it’s only recently that I feel like I’ve started to scratch beneath the surface. When I first started, I thought once I was there I’d just talk. I assumed the hard part would be making the appointment and showing up. After that, I imagined everything I’d been carrying around would somehow just come out. It didn’t work like that. I talked, obviously. I can talk for England when I need to. I can explain things really well. Analyse them. Pick them apart from every possible angle. For a long time I came away from sessions thinking they’d been useful because I’d said a lot.

But saying a lot and actually opening up aren’t the same thing. Since late last year there’s been a lot going on around my daughter. Not between us, but things she’s been dealing with that needed support and that naturally took up a huge amount of emotional energy and headspace. A lot of my counselling sessions became about that. Processing what was happening, trying to make sense of it, working through the worry that comes with supporting someone you love when they’re struggling. And that was exactly what I needed at the time.

Then somewhere amongst all of that I was diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis, which was another thing to get my head around.I think when life is throwing enough immediate stuff at you, counselling becomes about surviving what’s right in front of you. You deal with the loudest thing first.That’s what I was doing. What I didn’t realise was that while I was talking about very real and difficult things, I was still staying in the safer places emotionally.I was talking about what was happening rather than what any of it was really stirring up underneath.

Only recently, now things have started to settle a bit, have I noticed myself touching on things that feel less rehearsed. Things I haven’t already thought through and packaged neatly before saying them out loud. It’s an odd feeling because I genuinely thought I was being open before. I think I had this idea that opening up was a choice. That if you wanted counselling to work, you just had to decide to be honest and get on with it.I don’t think that’s true anymore.I think sometimes your brain takes its own sweet time deciding it’s safe. Trust builds gradually, often without you noticing.

For me, I think part of that has been the relationship with my counsellor developing over time. And oddly, finding out she also lives with a similar chronic condition shifted something as well. Not because our experiences are the same, or because it suddenly made everything easier to say, but because there was something reassuring in knowing she understands what it’s like when your own body starts becoming something you have to factor into everything.There’s less explaining needed. I’m only really realising now that those months of what felt like surface conversation weren’t wasted. I used to think I was somehow doing counselling wrong because I wasn’t diving straight into the deep stuff.

Now I think those sessions were probably the reason I can start going there now. Sometimes it takes months of just turning up and talking before the real things begin to surface.I suspect that’s far more normal than people admit.

Until next time, take care.

Helen.