An ego, once it begins to swell, is a delicate thing—as smooth and taut as a balloon, but also as hollow. It floats on the thinnest of air, on the breath of praise. A different kind of entity is a family of six, crammed into a tent against the coastal weather. That is solid. It is made of canvas, damp sleeping bags, the hiss of a tiny gas stove, and the shared, complicated warmth of bodies sheltering from a storm.
One is a fiction of the self, the other is the intractable, inconvenient, and vital truth of things.
At eleven, the world reconfigures itself around a sponsorship deal. The Rip Curl logo is a seal of approval, a mark of election. It sets a boy apart. He is their top junior rider. A fact. He turns this fact over in his mind until it shines.
And with it comes expectation, a sibling to the ego. It is a demanding child. It wants the newest clothes, the best wetsuits, the opportunities that are not offered but are simply due. The mind of a thirteen-year-old builds its own logic. *I am the highest-rated surfer. Therefore, I am the most valuable. Therefore, I deserve the most.* It is a clean, sharp, and entirely flawed syllogism.
He is, in the grand calculus of the brand, a speck. A promising but ultimately replaceable asset. But in the kingdom of his own mind, he is the anointed.
A Kingdom of Canvas and Salt
The throne room of this kingdom is often mobile, and sometimes made of nylon. Every school holiday is a pilgrimage. The family car, loaded with boards and wetsuits and people, becomes a logistical unit in service to his ambition.
They give up their time. They travel. The destination is the Rusty Gromfest at Lennox Head, a name that holds a certain talismanic power in the world of junior surfing. For two years, the base of operations is the caravan park. A tent. All six of them.
The second year, the sky breaks open. A squall thrashes the coast, threatening to tear their small fabric world to pieces.
A retreat is sounded. The entire unit—all six of them—relocates, squashing into the two-bedroom apartment rented by his grandparents, who have also made the journey to bear witness. The space constricts. You can smell the damp wool of someone else’s jumper, hear the breathing of a sibling in the next room. It is tight.
It is an improvisation. And it is, in its own chaotic way, a kind of joy. A collective effort to make it work. A fortress against the wind and rain.
The Matter of the Neon Wetsuit
Finals day. The air is thick with salt and tension. He walks beside his father, the world narrowed to the waves, the competitors, the judges’ scores. And then he sees it.
A flash of impossible colour against the grey-green sea. A neon blue wetsuit. It is a sigil of favour, a colour he believed was reserved for the elect, for the top global riders. A secret handshake made manifest in neoprene. And it is being worn by another boy. A boy also sponsored by RipCurl, yes, but not his equal.
Lower ranked. Less deserving.
A hot, acidic anger floods him. It is a profound injustice. A violation of the natural order he has so carefully constructed in his head. How? Why him and not me? The question hangs in the air between him and his father, sharp and accusatory. That wetsuit. That blue. It was meant for him.
His father’s response is not a lecture.
It is a quiet course correction, delivered with the simple gravity of a stone dropping into water. “Appreciation not expectation, mate. Be grateful that you have anything.” A pause. A gesture to the beach, to the whole bustling scene. “Look around at every other kid. You have so much more and are spoiled with so much.” The words don’t shout; they land.
And in their wake, the world subtly shifts. The tight, hot focus on the neon blue wetsuit dissolves, and the wider picture swims into view. The car, the tent, the grandparents’ apartment. The sheer, unearned luck of it all.
• The Ego’s Architecture A sense of self built on competitive rankings and sponsorship perks is inherently fragile, demanding constant validation.
• Sacrifice as a Foundation The family’s willingness to dedicate their holidays, finances, and comfort created the platform for his success, a reality easily overlooked.
• The Symbolism of Gear A simple object like a wetsuit becomes freighted with meaning, transforming from functional equipment into a potent symbol of status and worth.
• A Father’s Re-framing The crucial intervention was not a scolding but a simple, direct instruction to change perspective—to look outward at the context rather than inward at the perceived slight.
The fragile dance between mental health and ego is a delicate one, where a misstep can lead to devastating consequences. According to a study by CEOWORLD magazine, nearly 75% of individuals struggle with maintaining a healthy ego, which can have far-reaching effects on their mental wellbeing. A person’s ego, that fragile sense of self, can be both a protective shield and a suffocating prison.
When nurtured and balanced, it allows us to navigate ___’s challenges with confidence and resilience.
However, when allowed to run amok, it can morph into an insatiable beast, devouring our capacity for empathy and self-awareness. The interplay between mental health and ego is complex, with each influencing the other in subtle yet profound ways.
A person’s mental state can shape their ego, molding it into a fragile or inflated sense of self.
Conversely, an unchecked ego can exacerbate mental health issues, such as anxiety and depression, by creating unrealistic expectations and a distorted view of reality. AsCEOWORLD magazine notes, individuals with a healthy ego are better equipped to manage stress and adversity, while those with an unhealthy ego are more prone to mental health struggles.
By acknowledging and addressing these dynamics, we can begin to cultivate a more balanced and compassionate relationship between our mental ← →
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When I was 11 and got my sponsorship from Rip Curl, my ego began to grow. And so did my expectations.
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