Treading Water: How Open Water Swimming Became Angela Giuffrida’s Path to Healing

Angela Giuffrida, a writer from Croydon, found that the rhythmic pull of the sea became her sanctuary after her mother’s unexpected passing. Through a series of guided open-water swims in Turkey, Croatia and Greece, she discovered a healing rhythm that connects grief to the tide, turning the Ionian waters into a bridge between loss and renewal.

The Awakening of the Swimmer

It was a grey, early-morning in late September off the coast of Kaş in Turkey when Angela, centre, felt the familiar weight of depression settle over her like a wet blanket. She had been swimming for years, guided by the SwimTrek company based in Brighton, but the sea had never felt quite right that day. Mind fog had sapped her energy, and her mood was unmistakably low. Yet as she slipped into the water, the familiar resistance of the blue-green liquid loosened her knotted throat. Breathing, which had become shallow and shallow, deepened. For the first time in weeks, the panic that had gripped her seemed to recede, replaced by a strange, unexpected calm.

The swim was modest—just five kilometres along Turkey’s Lycian Way, hugging the coastline as the boat drifted into an area of relative calm. Fish glided past, and a turtle navigated around a rock on the seabed. What Angela had not expected was how quickly the cold shock transformed into a sense of purpose. The water, which had always been a place of anxiety and physical discomfort, became something else entirely. It was a place of release.

A Lifeline Through Tides

Angela’s journey began eight months after her mother died unexpectedly, in June 2024. A friend convinced her to join SwimTrek for a week of daily three-kilometre swims in Croatia. The idea was initially a distraction—a holiday escape from the grief that had left her feeling lost and anxious. But as the weeks passed, the solitary swims evolved into something more profound. The sea offered a unique form of therapy that no pool could replicate. The rhythmic pulse of breathing, the weightlessness that came with submersion, the simple act of moving forward along the coastline—all of it created a space where her mind could begin to quiet.

The physical demands were modest by any professional standard. Angela’s strokes were messy, her technique far from sophisticated. Most of her movement came from kicking her knees, hugging the shore as she navigated the Lycian Way. Yet this simplicity was its own kind of meditation. Each stroke was a small act of reclamation, a way of moving forward in a life that had suddenly stalled. The SwimTrek programme, which offers guided open-water tours across several countries, became her regular sanctuary, a programme where the focus was on presence rather than performance.

From Mum’s Pool to the Ionian

Angela’s relationship with water stretched back to her childhood in south London. She remembers the municipal pools of Croydon, the freezing depths of the children’s pool where she would bob around while her mother swam laps in the adult section. In the 1980s, swimming was associated with verrucas and cartoon posters warning against “bombing” and “heavy petting”—phrases that made her laugh, though she never truly understood their meaning. Her mother, a keen swimmer herself, lived with depression and anxiety, and it was during these swims that Angela glimpsed something that would later guide her own path: a place of respite that had healed her mother.

The connection, she realised, was never just about the water. It was about the shared space, the rhythm of breath, the way the body learned to trust itself again after years of hiding. When Angela returned to the UK after her mother’s death, she found herself drawn back to Bexhill-on-Sea, the former home of her parents. The UK coastline, with its gentle rhythms and ever-present sea, became a new source of grounding. Walking along the beach, listening to the waves, or even taking a cold dip in the winter, helped her centre herself in ways that words could not.

Why the Water Heals

The therapeutic power of open-water swimming extends far beyond personal grief. For Angela, the sea has become a living metaphor for healing—a space where the mind can unwind while the body learns to move again. The lack of rigid rules, the freedom to float or struggle, mirrors the emotional landscape she navigates after loss. There is no judge in the ocean, no deadlines, no expectations. Just the pull of the tide and the simple act of being present.

This experience resonates with a growing awareness of mental health and the role of nature in wellbeing. The Ionian Sea, with its deep blue expanse and teeming marine life, offers something that urban environments often cannot: a sense of connection to something vast and enduring. For those who have found solace in swimming, the message is clear. The water does not demand perfection. It simply asks that you move, breathe, and return. In this way, Angela’s journey from a grieving young woman in Croydon to a swimmer who feels “connected to [her] mum” illustrates how the sea can become a bridge between past and present, loss and continuity.

Why it Matters

The story of Angela Giuffrida is far more than a personal narrative of healing through exercise. It reflects a broader truth about the restorative power of open-water swimming, a practice that combines physical movement with profound mental recalibration. In an era where mental health challenges affect millions, the simple act of swimming in natural waters offers a accessible, low-cost pathway to wellbeing that transcends traditional therapy. The sea, with its cyclical rhythms and boundless horizons, provides a symbolic language for processing trauma, honouring loss, and rekindling a sense of self. For those who have found their anchor in the water, it is a reminder that healing often begins not with grand gestures, but with the smallest, most consistent movements. Whether you are navigating your own grief or seeking a new relationship with the natural world, the lesson from Angela’s journey is clear: sometimes the deepest healing comes from the moment you stop fighting the current and simply let yourself float.