I Will Believe in You Until You Do It

Written by Vivian Schaller

Photography by Laura Heller

When our beliefs become our thoughts, and our thoughts become our actions, we can easily start believing that we can't do something.

But what if someone simply believed in you before you did?

What if someone looked at you and said: I know you can.

I teach surfskating, especially to women and girls. And one of the reasons I started doing this is because I wish I had had someone when I was learning who made me feel seen, heard, respected and, most importantly, accepted in all my fears.

Someone who created a space where I could just be myself while figuring out how to move on a skateboard.

Because skating is such a beautiful contradiction.

It has a roughness to it, but also softness. It is technical, but at the same time completely intuitive. The wheels are loud and powerful, yet there is something incredibly gentle about the feeling of moving through space.

For me, skating feels like flying while still touching the ground.

I feel connected to the earth and the sky at the same time. My body has to trust the board. I have to allow myself to move without controlling every single thing. And when it works, something happens that is difficult to put into words.

It is a feeling.

A feeling of being completely alive.

Before every lesson, I ask the women who come to me:

What is your goal?

What is your intention for being here today?

And I hear so many different answers.

"I need to feel safe first."

"I'm scared I'm going to hurt myself."

"I used to skate, but I fell once and I'm afraid to go back."

"I'm a mum, and I want to prove to myself that I'm capable of being more than just a mum."

"I want to be a cool mum."

And sometimes it's simply:

"I see you doing this and it looks so much fun. I want to feel that too."

These women come with different stories, different ages, different bodies and different fears.

But there is something they often have in common:

They underestimate themselves.

They set small goals. Goals that feel safe. Goals that don't ask too much of them.

And I understand why.

We are taught to protect ourselves. To be careful. To not take unnecessary risks. To stay within what we already know.

But what happens when we step outside of that?

After an hour of surfskating, I see women reaching their goals — and then doing things they never thought they could do.

And every time, I ask myself:

Why do we give ourselves such small goals?

Not because small goals are wrong. But because sometimes we simply don't know what is possible until someone gives us the space to discover it.

That's what I love about teaching women.

It's not about making them fearless.

It's about creating a space where they can feel their fear and move anyway.

A space where they can fall without feeling ashamed. Where they can try again without being judged. Where women cheer each other on instead of comparing themselves.

There is something incredibly powerful about feeling safe around other women.

Something that feels both ancient and new.

When women come together and support each other, something shifts. You can feel it in the body. I would call it life force energy — that feeling of suddenly becoming more present, more awake, more alive.

And that's actually what I bring into my lessons more than anything:

Presence.

I want to bring women out of their thoughts and back into their bodies.

Because when you are skating, there is no room to be somewhere else.

You have to feel the board.

You have to feel your feet.

You have to look where you want to go.

You have to breathe.

And suddenly, the fear and the thoughts that felt so big before become smaller.

Not because they disappeared.

But because you stopped fighting them.

Yes, I'm scared.

Yes, I think I can't do this.

And I'm going to try anyway.

Maybe that's the real transformation.

Not becoming someone who has no fear.

But becoming someone who knows she can feel fear and still move forward.

It's okay to be a mum and a cool skater.

It's okay to be 56 years old and want to learn something your daughter can already do.

It's okay to think you're too old.

It's okay to think you can't do it.

And then prove yourself wrong.

It's okay to have a small goal and discover that you are capable of something much bigger.

Because the magic isn't actually in the trick.

It's in the moment when you realize:

Holy shit. I just did that.

That moment belongs to you.

No one can give it to you. No one can take it away.

You created it by showing up.

And maybe we need more of that in our lives. More moments where we stop listening to all the reasons why we can't and start feeling what becomes possible when we simply try.

We are made of stardust.

We are literally here, on this earth, with these bodies, having this wild experience of being alive.

And I think skating is one of those things that can remind us of that.

It brings you back to the ground.

It lifts you into the air.

It makes you trust your body.

It makes you laugh.

It makes you fall.

It makes you get back up.

So, to every woman who is thinking:

I can't do this.

I want you to know:

I will believe in you until you do it.

Because sometimes it is easier to believe in another woman than it is to believe in ourselves.

And there will always be a woman who believes in you when you are ready to give up.

Maybe it's your friend.

Maybe it's your daughter.

Maybe it's a woman standing next to you on a skateboard.

Or maybe, one day,

it's you.