An Affinity of Support: Open Water Swimming for Mental Health and Community

By Lisa Judson

If anyone had told me two years ago that I’d be swimming in open water, all through the year, in temperatures that sometimes go down to the minus figures, I would, without doubt, have told them EXACTLY where to go! But here we are, two years on and guess what I’m doing, between two and four times a week on average?!

The way it worked was that my therapist tried for more than two years to get me to try it. She explained how good it was for your central nervous system and how it would help to reset my brain. She even took me to the lake where I now swim around four times a week. I laughed and said, (this is the polite, publishable version by the way) “not a chance — but the oat milk decaf latte was ok — so I’d come down and join you for one of those.”

About six months later I was standing at the edge of the lake, in a wetsuit, with her encouraging me to just step in for a moment. It has to be said that my ADHD brain is a little tinker for helping me into an “all or nothing” kind of mindset with most things I do, so within about thirty seconds, I was in and swimming and trying desperately to breathe through the shock of being submerged in the twelve degree water! Long, slow breaths out is the key if you’re wondering!

I went in swearing loudly and giving it large about what a stupid thing to even thing about doing and came out calm, quiet and strangely peaceful. It helps that you’re swimming in a beautiful natural setting, spotting kingfishers and duck family flotillas interspersed with swans greeting you curiously. I’m utterly convinced that they’re asking if we’re lost and what on earth are we doing in their lake. Then add in the fact that there isn’t a single whiff of chlorine and the only sounds you can hear are the fish jumping out of the water in the distance.

Unequivocally, I feel better when I get out than when I get in. I’ve had hundreds of hours of therapy over the years, childhood trauma will do that to you, and I have absolutely no doubt that it helps. But no matter how many minutes I spend in the lake, I can guarantee I feel better when I get out.

I only used a wet suit that first time, and without it I don’t think I’d have got in. But to be honest, I had a broken collarbone at the time and getting in and out of that thing was more difficult than feeling cold, so I gave it up as a bad job and I’ve swum in skins ever since. For the uninitiated amongst you, that means wearing a swimsuit and adding neoprene gloves or socks in the colder months. I don’t want any of you, for even one minute, to think I’d be skinny dipping! But one of the biggest things that made me take so long to try it was the thought of finding a wet suit to fit me and the embarrassment of trying them on.

The reality was that no one gave me a second glance and in fact, I found the perfect fit the first time round. Because at the lake, you definitely “come as you are.” Nobody judges you, everybody is welcome, all sizes, all shapes, all colours, creeds and nationalities. We have this weird affinity of support for each other, just because we want to be there. And everyone is so encouraging. Somebody new arrives and they haven’t brought a brightly coloured hat? No problem, one of the regulars will appear with one they can borrow. A tow float went missing on the way down? No problem, I’m just getting out — here have mine, I’ll be in the café, just pass it back when you’re done.

It’s extraordinary. A bit like stepping back in time to when people helped their neighbour and a village raised a child.

One summer evening last year, as I was getting out of the lake after enjoying a mile long swim, I engaged with a mum who was waiting anxiously near the bank. She was trying to encourage her nonverbal, autistic teenage son to get in to join his dad because she knew how much he loved it when he was in. But the problem was, there were dogs in the water that evening, all having a wonderful tail wagging time. But this young man was incredibly afraid of dogs. So after chatting to his mum, I waded back in, chatted to the doggie parents and they all agreed to immediately bring their dogs on to the bank. Which was great, but he still had to walk past them which proved to be a step too far. So, not to be phased at the final hurdle, we all formed a human barrier between the boy and the dogs and let him have a safe passage into the water. How cool is that? People enabling people. Heart-warming. Enabling. Community in the best sense of the word.

So you see for me, it’s not just about being in the lake with the cold water doing its thing, stabilising my mental health. It’s also about meeting the most awesome bunch of like-minded people that I proudly now call my tribe. Let’s face it, you’ve got to be just a little bit “out there” to give open water swimming a go, so there’s a similar mindset amongst most of the people you bump into. I’ve never known a place where I feel so safe, so accepted and have been so encouraged to be my best self.

Recent surgery saw each of these “swim friends” step up in the most incredible ways to support me. One took me to hospital, one brought me home, another came over to wash my hair for me. Between them they brought meals and groceries. They provided me with company, care and above all, they loved me exactly where I was each day in the post surgery recovery process.

So if you have ever been invited to go open water swimming and you think it’s a mad idea, maybe this will help you to consider giving it a go! It could help not only with your mental health, but you may also find your “tribe” in the process.

PS: Recent studies show that the people who swear like troopers on entry into open water are the ones that get the most benefit from the swim. See! I even get a green light for my “expressive vocabulary” — what’s not to love?!

About the Author

Lisa is mum to three amazing adult children and is endlessly curious about the world around her. She loves travelling and discovering new places, believing that each new experience helps broaden her horizons and deepen her understanding of people, cultures and life.

As a celebrant, Lisa feels genuinely honoured to stand alongside families at some of the most meaningful and significant moments of their lives. She approaches her work with care, compassion and attentiveness, striving to create ceremonies that feel personal, authentic and supportive.

Alongside her celebrant role, Lisa runs a visual stress consultancy and works with corporate organisations to raise awareness of neurodivergence, helping to create more inclusive and understanding workplaces.

In her spare time, Lisa finds joy in gardening, open water swimming, and volunteering with the local asylum seekers in her town. All things that reflect her belief in connection, kindness and community.

More details at Lisa Judson, Celebrancy Services and Visual Stress Solutions.