To pass the helm to an excited prospect brings joy in watching their anticipation of a lifestyle yet to be had. To give up the helm brings sadness, regret, and admonition as I wrestle with accepting who I am. To rationalize my luck in being healthy with no signs of cancer, kidney failure, or heart disease with the demise of loneliness is a tough pill to swallow.
The pain resulting from a sense of being unloved and unwanted by a romantic partner became unbearable. When the prospect of an attractive and kind partner offered to spend the rest of his life with me, I couldn’t resist. Certainly, I didn’t. Maybe under different circumstances I would have resisted. Why I didn’t is a bit hazy.
Was it the fear of moving to the next leg of the voyage? I think that was it. Sailing toward the Caribbean after getting comfortable finding my way around the Bahamas conjured up fears. The water depth in the Virgin Islands and parts beyond was said to be upwards of 100 feet at anchorages. Up until this time I rarely dropped the hook in more than 10 feet.
Many questions plagued my waking hours. Did I have enough chain? Would I have to dive on the anchor? Who would help me? Rather than do more research and focus on what I could do to alleviate the fear, I looked for an escape. My past behavior shows a pattern of finding a mate. Since the 3rd grade, it seems I was always eyeing some good looking guy.
To want to sail alone while inclined to need/want a boyfriend befuddles me. In the end, though, having a mate won the battle. It has now been 2 1/2 years since giving up the helm. It has been 30 months since I sought an adventure worthy of writing about.
In line with the cliche ‘the check is in the mail’ I wonder, what will happen to me. Will I return to small boat racing? Will I wish SPRAY and I were still the team we were for 3 wonderful years? Will I find a new passion?
Que Sera, Sera, is such a simple way to negate all the negative feelings, regrets and unresolved understanding of why I am not amongst the solo sailors who made the circumnavigation I continue to dream about. The desire awakens me at least 3 or 4 nights a week. My subconscious seeks a way to make it happen only to be dismissed at first light.
And, so it is. Rather than this website being a journal of well documented researched articles about my life as a solo sailor, it has become a place to ramble, to vent, to document my thoughts. Sorry to bore folks, but soon, I may again give up my volunteer job and concentrate on my passion for sailing. For now, I think I will go for an intriguing walk along Panther Creek, in the darkness of our first week of daylight savings time in the year 2016.