Wading into What Matters

One Sunday morning, I stood at Horseshoe Cove—a little inlet just beneath the Golden Gate Bridge—where I meet my cold-water dipping crew every day at 7 a.m.
 
I arrived early that day and found Annie already there—a weekend warrior who drives an hour up the 101 to meet us. Somehow, she’s always the first to arrive.
 
“I’m leading a mother-daughter circle this afternoon,” I told her. “And honestly, the stakes feel high.”
 
She nodded and shared a pivotal memory with her mom—how they once sat across from each other at a retreat and answered the question: “How do I want to receive love?”
 
I tucked that powerful image in my proverbial back pocket as the other Mermaids walked down the stairs to the beach, found a spot to put their stuff, and gave each other lots of hugs. Once we circled up for our Sunday ritual of listening to Mary Oliver’s poem ‘Why I Wake Early,’ we peeled off our oversized swim parkas and waded into the Bay.
 
I was catching up with an old friend—heads-a-bobbing—when I spotted a woman I’d just met the week before.
 
With water up to our necks, I crawled over to her and asked:
“You’re a therapist, right?”
“Yep!” she said.
“I’m leading a mother-daughter circle today—can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she answered.
 
“What would you say is the central struggle between a mother and daughter?”
 
Her eyes widened. I could tell she felt the gravity of the question.
 
“I have three daughters,” she said. “So this answer matters to me personally.” She paused. “The therapist in me would say: differentiation.”
 
“Can you say that in real-people terms?” I asked, laughing—but genuinely wanting to understand the term in my bones and heart. I felt buoyant in the salty water, but my desire to make the mother-daughter circle a transformational experience was ever-present.
 
She smiled. “We have a profound need to be deeply connected with each other and to be our authentic selves.”
 
That’s when the water began to feel—not warm, not cold—just right. I knew the sign. It was time to get out. I thanked her and headed back to shore.
 
As I was walking up to grab my towel, I heard a familiar voice say,  “Katherine, I’d love for you to lead a circle for my birthday.”
 
I giggled. “Are you telling me I get to be the entertainment?”
 
“No,” she said. “I want to give my friends a growth experience.” I redirected my playful energy and said, “Oh yeah, yeah! I hear you. I’d love to make that happen. Let’s talk this week!”
 
As I stood on my little mat and watched the tip of the sun pop out and meet my eyes, I marveled that I'd considered not showing up that morning. So much had happened—and it wasn’t even 7:30 am.😂
 
I felt a wave of gratitude so profound—for this group of women who I adore (plus one very cool guy).

I didn’t know that finding, writing—and eventually sharing my real story (and yes, showing up to cold-ass water)—would open my life in ways I couldn’t have ever imagined.
 
Of course, we can’t know everything—but we spend a lot of time trying. Trying to know, to predict, to control outcomes.
 
What I know in my bones and heart is this:

Sharing your story—the one you might be afraid to share (yes, that one)—will help you become more of who you are.

And if done with love and intention, it can bring you closer to the people you love.
 
That afternoon, I led that mother-daughter circle—with my 18-year-old daughter, Kate, right by my side.
 
After I shared my story (and the super helpful insight from the early morning therapist), I asked the moms and daughters to sit face-to-face and share their stories. Thank you, Annie. I had walked them through my Challenge–Choice–Change storytelling framework to help them open up, and now was their chance.
 
As I sat across from Kate, peering into her eyes, I realized why the stakes had felt so high.
 
My daughter was there.
 
Everything I’ve worked for—every word I’ve written, every circle I’ve held, every conversation I’ve braved, and every cold morning I’ve dipped—has been about finding a way to show up in all of my authenticity and feel closer to the people I love, especially her.💗

This is my deepest wish for my daughter. And for you, too.

Stay in touch:

@speakingtowhatmatters

Photo credit and thanks to Lisa Blackaller Williams @Lisawilliamslight 
for capturing the joy of early morning moments 🙏