Boatyard Buzz
Neverland in Duck Creek Marina, New Bern, NC
Purgatory. We have been stuck in purgatory for the past 3 months. Neither water nor quite what I would call land, the boatyard is the in between, the upside down. It has a tendency to dim the light of one's soul. It’s a comical coincidence, that the ‘boatyard’ sounds so much like ‘boneyard’, but that’s not their only similarity. Both are dusty and littered with carcasses. Once vibrant sea maidens, now mere shells of their former selves, their to-do lists overwhelming their guardian's ambition. Our sentence here will shortly be fulfilled as we put the finishing touches on Neverland's hull. God willing and the creek don't rise, we will slip her back into the water as we flip the calendar page to November.
Patrick’s tiny travel trailer in Flanagan’s Beach State Park
Moving from Airbnb, to motel, to State Park in the travel trailer, to RV Park, and back to the State Park again, I've noticed a low-grade fever in my nervous system. Thankfully, the weighted blanket has been given paid leave and no major panic attacks have been recorded for the year of 2024. However, that constant buzzzzzzz is back, the one I thought I had vanquished back in the winter. I have made great strides in dealing with my anxiety this year, but growth is not always linear. It seems we're going backward Captain. Rather than being three steps into the clearing, we're now only one step away from where it all began.
Inside of our cozy living space for the past 3 months.
When I was around 10 years old, I attended a summer theater camp. Alice in Wonderland was on the playbill. I was very suitably cast as the tightly wound white hare who constantly checked his pocket watch, obsessively worried about his fading punctuality. I even had a solo “….I’m late, I’m late for a very important date, can’t even say hello goodbye I’m late, I’m late, I’m late….” He then proceeds to list all the many tedious tasks he lacks the time to do because he is always late, of course.
This is a pretty good illustration of the anxiety that hides just below the surface of my daily activities. It’s the feeling of being in a rush. Rushing to try and catch up to my life which is careening around the next corner like a getaway car from a bank heist. I remember always hating those educational math games that timed you while you completed multiplication facts. My stomach would be up in my chest, my brain getting fuzzier as I would strain to force the answer out. I would watch the seconds tick closer to the buzzer, buzzer sounds off, and even in my anticipation, I would jump out of my skin.
Yeah, it all feels like that. Rushing. Rushing to do everything. Rushing to get the next task checked off the list. Rushing to find your keys and get out the door. Rushing to make the light before it turns yellow. Rushing to get dinner ready by 6:00. Rushing through my shower to be in bed by 9:00. Rushing to be in bed by 9:00 and asleep by 10:00. Rushing to have 10 min to relax before I rush myself to death.
Before I was fully conscious of my own habits, Patrick took notice. He’d see me frantically rushing around, put a hand on my shoulder, and say, “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”. It was the perfect prompt. It would break me out of my trance. Closing my eyes, I’d take a big breath, lower my shoulders from my ears, and proceed through my activity without the feeling of being chased. Slowing down brought me back to the present moment. Ah, the present, where all your feelings and emotions are waiting on you. But alongside pain, fear, and grief there is real joy. All the rushing around keeps us stuck in the future, focusing too hard on meeting the next moment. The more we are stuck there, the less we can experience joy in the now. I find it rather interesting that when I slow down I magically seem to have all the time I need?
Boatyard Chaos
More boatyard chaos….
I think this whole boat life thing—the boatyard, everything—is a chance to dive headfirst into the unknown. It's an opportunity to deal with that pesky anxiety mosquito buzzing around in my ear. On a sailboat, you barely get settled before it's time to move on to the next thing. You make plans, only to have them change at a moment's notice. You're at the mercy of everything around you: the weather, the boat, even the number of people in the tranquil cove who anchored there first. You have to find calm within yourself, not out there in the swirling, twirling chaos of everyday life.
Since the start of this adventure, our lives have been a series of ever-shifting timelines. I am choosing to focus on one day at a time. I meditate in the morning, let my body feel that I am safe, and remind myself there is no need to rush. We actually have all the time in the world to do this thing called life. As for the boatyard, one of my most embarrassing childhood memories—peeing my pants on the playground slide in second grade—taught me a valuable lesson: no matter how badly you want to go outside and play, sometimes there are just things you have to do first.
