Attitude

Wed, June 12

I realize that this is an amazing opportunity, adventure, holiday, etc. that we’re lucky to be on. But it’s not all strawberries and Cornish clotted cream - adventures do include some misery and this is no exception.What we anticipated would be one of the best/most challenging aspects to this trip has proven to be true: constant, intimate, proximity to each other. All day, everyday, in a space less than 44 feet long. It’s brutiful. 

View forwards from the galley

I believe that these types of situations tax introverts’ mental health more than extroverts’ - that's my bias. Overall we’re all doing a pretty good job being kind and respectful - with great allowances taken for fits of temper. We’re constantly hitting our heads and “swears” are flying freely. This is what sailors do. (Sailors drink rum too, but the rum rations thus far have been slim).

The kids are finding ways to have fun together instead of fighting/ignoring each other as they can with our home schedule. Working together to get the sails up/down and all the other boating responsibilities are what corporate team building exercises are modeled on. So we’re basically on a crash course in personal and familial growth. Which, as you can imagine, requires many bars of chocolate and bottles of wine for me. (Murray has his pubs and pints).  

The honest truth is that the first 1-2 weeks I was in a foul mood - I really wasn’t excited about buying a boat. I already fulfilled my “live aboard a sailboat” dream with the Katalla and I’ve not had any nostalgic thoughts about doing it again. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize until it was too late that this Young Larry idea was one of Murray’s enthusiasms that he would runaway with. So with my grudging consent - for the higher purpose of a family holiday - here we are. 

But upon our arrival at the Young Larry, the reality was a tough pill to swallow. How did I find myself back on a boat, hitting my head repeatedly, in a perpetual stoop from low ceilings, wearing the same clothes daily because it’s so damn hard to change lying down in a shoe box or standing in a postage stamp-sized floor space where the head clearance is offset from the foot space so you have to stand at a slant, all of it moving, and without any solitude to process? .…and add to it the docking drama, a hand pump toilet and no easy shower…it was a bit much.

My process to wrap my head around being in a situation that I didn’t choose, don’t want, can’t get out of, and have to make the best of for my kids is: Internally - loud and confusing, dark and consuming/Externally - Real. Quiet. And I lose my sense of humor. We’ve all been there, and we all know; this is not pretty. 

It took until Weymouth - and a talk with my good friend Dot to get my attitude adjusted.

It also helped that we found a wine and cheese bar at the harbor, steps from where we were tied up, and Murray and I tucked in there 2 of the 3 Weymouth nights. 

All of which means that, right now, in this quiet moment, sailing nicely with both kids occupied and a cup of tea in hand, I’m congratulating myself that resiliency is one of my character traits…and I am bouncing back to enjoy the adventures we’re having. Tomorrow is another day to manage...