Surfing as a Single Mum: Finding My Way Back to the Ocean

Surfing as a single mum wasn’t something I ever planned for.

Before becoming a mother, surfing wasn’t just a hobby. It shaped where I lived, where I travelled and how I spent my time. I checked the forecast before I got out of bed, chased swells around Australia and overseas, and built much of my identity around the ocean.

Then life changed.

After separating from my son’s father when Xavier was four months old, I found myself navigating single motherhood, financial stress and the challenge of rebuilding a life I hadn’t expected. Somewhere along the way, surfing became less about catching waves and more about holding onto a part of myself I wasn’t ready to lose.

This is my story of surfing as a single mum, the grief of letting go of the life I once had, and how I’m slowly finding my way back to the ocean again.

Many women discover that returning to the ocean later in life feels surprisingly similar to learning to surf after 40—it requires patience, self-compassion and a willingness to begin again.

Becoming A Single Mum

When Xavier was four months old, his dad and I separated.

I suddenly found myself trying to figure out how to support a baby on my own after losing our savings, our car and the future I thought we were building together.

When Xavier was nine months old, I took a FIFO job.

Seven days away. Seven days home.

The plan was simple. Work hard for twelve months, buy a house and create a better future for us both.

I still remember the first night away from him.

I remember leaking milk while I was underground and he was at home with my mum.

I remember feeling torn between two impossible choices.

Stay home and struggle financially.

Or leave and carry the guilt of not being there.

That year changed me.

When I came home on my week off, I didn’t spend time on myself. I didn’t surf. I didn’t ask for help. Every spare minute belonged to Xavier.

The guilt followed me long after the FIFO job ended.

In many ways, I spent years trying to make up for being away from him.

I became fiercely independent. I stopped asking for support. I convinced myself that being a good mother meant sacrificing everything else.

Including the parts of myself that had once made me feel most alive.

Surfing Was Never Just a Hobby

Before becoming a mum, surfing wasn’t something I did on weekends.

It was how I lived.

I checked the forecast before I got out of bed. I knew the tides, the winds and the swell charts. If there was a chance of waves, I’d be up before sunrise driving to the beach.

Surfing influenced almost every major decision in my life.

Where I lived.

Where I travelled.

The jobs I took.

The countries I visited.

For over fifteen years I chased waves around Australia and overseas. Indonesia, Margaret River, Portugal, Morocco, reef breaks, point breaks, long road trips and everything in between.

But surfing was never really about the waves.

It was freedom.

It was adventure.

It was connection to nature.

It was the feeling of paddling out stressed and coming back to shore feeling like a completely different person.

It regulated my nervous system long before I understood what nervous system regulation was.

It gave me confidence.

It gave me challenge.

It gave me community when I wanted it and solitude when I needed it.

Most importantly, it gave me a sense of who I was.

When life felt uncertain, surfing was the constant.

The ocean was where I went to think, process, heal and reconnect with myself.

I can see that what I missed wasn’t just surfing.

I missed the version of myself that existed when surfing was part of my everyday life.

And that was much harder to replace than I ever expected.

Looking back now , those years eventually led to another huge decision: walking away from the traditional path altogether. If you’re curious about that journey, you can read more about why I left the 9-5 and chose a different way of living.

The Challenges of Surfing as a Single Mum

The Grief Nobody Talks About

When people talk about becoming a mum, they often talk about what you gain.

The love.

The purpose.

The connection.

What people don’t talk about as often is what you lose.

Not forever. But for a while.

For me, the hardest part wasn’t losing surfing.

It was losing the version of myself that surfing represented.

At first, I still checked the forecasts.

I still looked at the cams.

I still knew when the swell was pumping.

But eventually that became painful.

Knowing the waves were good and knowing I couldn’t go created a tension I carried every day.

So I stopped.

I stopped checking.

I stopped planning around surf.

I stopped dreaming about the next swell.

Not because I didn’t love it anymore, but because it hurt too much.

It took me almost two years to consciously let go of that part of my identity.

I had to stop being the person who woke up thinking about waves because I wasn’t able to live that life anymore.

At the time, motherhood felt heavy.

I don’t mean Xavier.

I mean the responsibility.

The pressure.

The constant need to put someone else’s needs before your own.

Surfing had always felt like freedom.

Motherhood felt like duty.

And for a long time, I struggled to hold both of those truths at the same time.

There was also trauma I hadn’t fully acknowledged.

For years I told myself I was fine.

Just get on with it.

Keep moving forward.

Keep being strong.

But eventually I realised that surviving isn’t the same as healing.

As I worked through the grief, the forgiveness and everything that came with the breakdown of my relationship, something softened.

I stopped fighting reality quite so hard.

I stopped trying to force my old life back.

And slowly I began creating a new one.

Even now I get triggered sometimes.

I’ll see someone running surf retreats in Indonesia, surfing every day and living a life I once imagined for myself. For a moment I feel the loss all over again. Then I remind myself that I’m still building my story.

It just looks different than I expected.

Part of me still wants that life.

But I’ve also learned that life isn’t always about getting back what you lost.

Sometimes it’s about creating something new from what remains.

And sometimes that’s even better than the original dream.

As surfing became less available, I found myself drawn toward other ways of connecting with the ocean. Wildlife photography, freediving and exploring nature gave me a different way to stay connected when surfing wasn’t possible.

Looking back, much of my struggle wasn’t really about surfing at all—it was about identity, which is something I discuss in Surfing and the Ego.

The First Time I Surfed Again

For all the years surfing had been part of my life, I assumed getting back into the ocean would feel natural.

It didn’t.

A couple of months after Xavier was born, I decided to try.

I was in Margaret River at the time and thought I’d go for a quick surf.

I pulled my wetsuit on.

Walked all the way down to the beach.

Then realised it was on backwards.

I walked back to the car.

Took it off.

Put it back on.

Walked back down to the beach.

Still backwards.

By the third attempt I finally got it right.

At the time it felt ridiculous.

But looking back, it perfectly summed up where I was mentally and physically.

I was exhausted.

Sleep deprived.

Recovering from an emergency C-section.

Trying to navigate single motherhood.

Trying to navigate a future that looked nothing like the one I’d imagined.

Surfing wasn’t the carefree escape it used to be.

Even when I did find a small window to get in the water, there was always part of my mind somewhere else.

Was Xavier okay?

How long had I been gone?

Should I be doing something more productive?

The guilt came with me everywhere.

Over the following years there were countless times I’d drive to the beach and not surf.

I’d watch waves from the shoreline.

Check conditions and decide it wasn’t worth the effort.

Or simply know there was nobody available to help.

The reality of surfing as a single mum wasn’t just about finding waves.

It was finding space.

Space in the day.

Space in my mind.

Space to believe that my needs mattered too.

One of the most memorable surfs during those years happened completely unexpectedly.

We were travelling through Tasmania when I met a kind-hearted surfer named John from Roaring Beach.

He watched Xavier for forty minutes and lent me a board.

Just forty minutes.

That’s all it was.

But after years of barely surfing, it felt incredible.

For forty minutes I wasn’t thinking about responsibilities.

I wasn’t thinking about schedules or finances or what needed to happen next.

I was simply a surfer again.

And sometimes that’s all it takes.

A small reminder that the person you used to be isn’t gone.

She’s just waiting for the right moment to come back.

When I did eventually get back in the water, I realised I was carrying a lot more hesitation and self-doubt than before, something I explore further in Why Women Feel Intimidated in the Surf Lineup.

Why Surfing Mums Didn’t Work For Me

I tried.

I really wanted it to work.

In many ways, I wanted to be those surfing mums.

The ones sitting on the beach together while the kids played in the sand.

Taking turns watching each other’s children.

Cheering each other into waves.

Building community around motherhood and surfing.

And for many women, it’s exactly what they need.

But for me, something never quite clicked.

The waves were often tiny.

The conversations were usually about motherhood.

And while I completely understood why, a part of me was still grieving the life I’d left behind.

I didn’t miss surfing because I wanted exercise.

I missed surfing because I missed freedom.

I missed road trips.

I missed adventure.

I missed chasing swell.

I missed paddling out alone at sunrise with nobody needing anything from me.

For a long time, I thought something was wrong with me for feeling that way.

Shouldn’t I just be grateful to be getting in the water?

Shouldn’t I be happy with whatever surfing I could get?

But eventually I realised I wasn’t rejecting motherhood.

I was grieving another part of myself.

The traveller.

The adventurer.

The woman who had spent years following coastlines around Australia and across the world looking for waves.

The woman who felt most alive in the ocean.

The truth was, I didn’t want to choose between being a mum and being a surfer.

I wanted both.

I wanted to be the mum sitting on the beach watching her child play.

And I wanted to be the woman paddling out into waves that challenged and inspired her.

For a long time, those two versions of me felt impossible to reconcile.

Now I can see they were never opposites.

I just hadn’t figured out how they could exist together yet.

For a long time I believed my own needs should come last, a pattern I explore more deeply in When Motherhood Makes You Forget Who You Are.

Surfing Mums Groups Can Be A Lifeline

One thing I would recommend to any mum trying to get back into surfing is finding a local Surfing Mums group.

While it wasn’t ultimately the right fit for me, I’ve seen firsthand how valuable these communities can be. Sharing childcare, connecting with other women and simply knowing you’re not alone can make getting back into the water feel possible again.

If you’re in Australia, Surfing Mums Australia is a great place to start.

If you’re in Australia, I recommend checking out Surfing Mums Australia.

If you’re based in the United States, Surfing Moms is a great place to start.

The Dream That Kept Me Going

One of the things that helped me through the years of surfing less was shifting my focus from the waves I wasn’t catching to the experiences I was creating with Xavier.

From the time he was a baby, I wanted him to feel comfortable in the ocean.

Not just as a surfer, but as someone who felt connected to nature.

We spent countless days at the beach exploring rock pools, watching marine life, swimming, diving and simply being outside together. I taught him breath holds through games, encouraged him to be curious about the underwater world and gave him the freedom to build confidence at his own pace.

When I look back now, I can see that I didn’t really give up surfing.

I just put it on hold.

Somewhere along the way I made a deal with myself. If I couldn’t surf the way I used to, I would give everything I had to raising Xavier.

I packed up the house, left behind the childcare and support I had, bought a van and spent two years travelling Australia with my son.

We explored beaches, camped by the ocean, chased wildlife and spent countless hours in nature.

I wanted him to grow up connected to the world around him.

Confident in the ocean.

Curious about nature.

Free to explore.

And through all of it, there was one dream I held onto.

One day we’d surf together.

Not because I wanted him to become a competitive surfer or follow in my footsteps, but because I wanted him to experience the same connection, freedom and joy that surfing had given me throughout my life.

When Xavier was younger, that dream felt a long way off.

Then we went to Indonesia.

For the first time, we were sharing waves together.

He rode on the front of my board, laughing as we glided across warm tropical waves.

It wasn’t the surfing life I’d imagined years earlier.

It was something different.

And somehow it felt even better.

Now he’s nearly six years old and getting ready for his own board.

One of the easiest ways to introduce kids to waves is with a handplane. It teaches them how waves break, helps them understand timing and builds confidence in the ocean long before they stand on a surfboard.

If you’d like to try it with your own kids, I put together a beginner’s guide to body surfing with a hand plane and why it’s such a great stepping stone into surfing.

The dream that carried me through some of the hardest years of my life is finally starting to happen.

Not exactly as I planned.

But maybe that’s the point.

Life rarely gives us the dream we imagined.

Sometimes it gives us a better one.

Finding Your Way Back to Surfing

Finding Time to Surf as a Single Parent

One of the biggest challenges wasn’t motivation. It was logistics.

As a single parent, there was no one waiting at home while I snuck off for a quick surf.

Every session required planning, support or sacrifice somewhere else.

For years I waited for the perfect opportunity to return to surfing. More time. More money. More support.

Eventually I realised perfect conditions don’t just apply to waves. They rarely arrive in life either.

What helped was letting go of the idea that every surf had to be worth it. Sometimes twenty minutes in the ocean was enough. Sometimes checking the waves and going for a swim was enough.

Small moments count.

For many women, time away from surfing isn’t a choice but a consequence of motherhood, work and changing priorities. I share more about that journey in Returning To Surfing After A Long Break.

She’s Still There

If you’re reading this as a single mum wondering where the surfer you used to be went, I understand.

Maybe you haven’t surfed in months.

Maybe years.

Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that part of your life is over.

I used to think that too.

But I’ve learned that nothing is forever.

Kids grow.

Circumstances change.

Money comes and goes.

Time passes whether we want it to or not.

The version of you that loved surfing, adventure, freedom and the ocean hasn’t disappeared.

She’s still there.

She might be buried under school lunches, work, responsibilities, exhaustion and years of putting everyone else first.

But she’s still there.

For me, the path back wasn’t what I expected.

It wasn’t a perfect surf trip.

It wasn’t suddenly getting my old life back.

It was slowly creating a new life where all the pieces could fit together.

A life where I could be a mother and still be myself.

A life where I could share my love of the ocean with my son instead of choosing between the two.

And now, after years of dreaming about it, we’re finally getting closer.

He’s learning to surf.

He’s confident in the ocean.

He loves being in nature.

And every time I watch him run toward the water, I see a little piece of that dream coming to life.

Not the dream I had before becoming a mum.

A different one.

A better one.

Because sometimes the life we’re trying so desperately to get back to isn’t the life we’re meant to have.

Sometimes life asks us to let go of the old dream so something new can emerge in its place.

And if there’s one thing motherhood, surfing and the ocean have taught me, it’s this:

Nothing is forever. Time passes. Things change. You can always create a new life and dream where all the pieces fit.❤️

FAQ

How do single mums find time to surf?

Finding time to surf as a single mum often means letting go of perfect conditions and making the most of small opportunities. Short sessions, support from family or friends and surf communities can all help.

Is Surfing Mums Australia worth joining?

For many women, Surfing Mums Australia provides valuable support, childcare swaps and a chance to meet other surfing parents.

Can you surf with young children?

Yes, although it often looks different than it did before becoming a parent. Many parents introduce their children to the ocean through beach play, bodyboarding and eventually surfing together.

Will I ever get back to surfing after having kids?

Yes. It may not happen in the same way or as quickly as you’d like, but many women return to surfing after motherhood and often discover a deeper appreciation for their time in the ocean.

Surfing as a Single Mum: Losing Myself and Finding My Way Back to the Ocean