On the recommendation of my Coach, I started reading Brene Brown's The Gift of Imperfection. I just got to the part where she talks about addiction.
I've frequently said (only sort of joking) going to sea is an addiction for me. My definition of addition has been knowing something is bad for me, and doing it anyway. And yes, I recognize that going to sea is not a healthy choice...I don't eat well underway (hello, carb fest! and ten days out of a port call, fresh fruits and veggies start getting very scarce, while there always seems to be a box of cake mix to unearth from dry stores...); I sleep in fits and starts, mostly...except when I don't, which is frequent when we're busy with operations; it is Stressful; I don't exercise the way I do ashore; and I'm away from many things, like friends and family, that I rely on for emotional support. That's a long list of healthy stuff I lose underway.
However, if I look at an addiction as Brown defines it, as letting numbing get in the way of my authenticity, then I think going to sea is the exact opposite, and may, actually, be a source of great resilience for me. While being underway is a great excuse for me to use overworking and perfectionism to avoid unpleasant things and feelings, the very nature of being underway forces me to deal with uncertainty and vulnerability regularly, and supports me with being a part of something greater than myself.
As Dr Brown says, "...I'm convinced that we all numb and take the edge off. The question is, does our ________ (eating, drinking, spending, gambling, saving the world, incessant gossiping, perfectionism, sixty-hour workweek [or 168-hour workweek underway]) get in the way of our authenticity? Does it stop us from being emotionally honest and setting boundaries and feeling like we're enough? Does it keep us from staying out of judgment and from feeling connected? Are we using _________ to hide or escape from the reality of our lives?"
There is nothing quite like being underway to make me face uncertainty and vulnerability square on. One of the first sea stories I added to my personal anthology (I think I've told it before...once or twice) was in April 2000, when BOUTWELL was up in the Bering Sea, and the F/V ARCTIC ROSE sank with all 15 hands onboard tragically perishing. We were kept on-scene for search and rescue efforts for about two days, if I remember correctly. A spring storm swept through the area before we could run for cover. For about 12 hours, I wasn't sure if BOUTWELL herself would survive. The QMOW logged 75 knot winds (which anywhere else would be a hurricane) and 45 foot seas. I remember being on the bridge for about two and a half hours on the mid-watch with BOSN, standing at a height of eye of 55 feet, and looking up at the tops of waves...which means there were a few waves that were over 60 feet tall. We kept our bow into the seas at a 1/3 bell, powering up some of the steeper walls of water with the quick push of a 2/3 bell, hung at the crest of the wave for a few torturous seconds before plummeting down the backside of the wave to thunderingly crash in the trough before climbing up the next one. It was the most terrified I have been in my life. I prayed that night...something I hadn't done in years, and haven't done since. I had no control, I was full of uncertainty, and felt about as vulnerable as a human being can. Hard to hide from that reality.
More recently, DILIGENCE was leaving Colon, Panama, after pulling in for a brief stop for logistics during my first year onboard, I think because our helicopter was broken, and had to do a pier-side op test before being ok to use again (oh, that's right...I remember now...a hard landing torqued out the helo's limits and they had to reset them...or something like that). It was after sunset when we were finally ready to go. We had to spin around in a narrow channel to get headed the right direction to be outbound. The wind was blowing on the dock at 30-plus knots. Did I mention the narrow channel? And I think we were on a flood current, which would also force us back against the pier. I didn't want to coach because I wasn't sure my shiphandling skills were up to the task...which lead me to a dark place of questioning my abilities, questioning my fitness as a cutterman and a leader, questioning my career choice and my worth to the organization. OPS drove us safely out that night with finesse and skill, and I was jealous and felt weak and worthless...not because he had done such a great job, but because he did it with confidence and self-assuredness. I sulked and stewed for a couple of days. I eventually brought it up to my CO, combined with some other doubts I had about my abilities to be the kind of leader I want to be.
I can think of at least two occasions on DILIGENCE where I used the experience of my care-taking my mother in the few months before her death to help crewmembers through their own family tragedies. I'm pretty sure I cried during both of those encounters, and didn't really care that they saw my vulnerabilities. That's what you do for shipmates. That's my authenticity.
I think my pro dev sessions come from a place of vulnerability. I try to stick to topics I wish I had known when I was a junior JO. Things I learned the hard way.
Last night I reread some of my posts from DILIGENCE. Posts about the heart-breaking beauty of the open water, the soul-nourishing sunrises, thunderstorms, sunsets, and star-choked night skies, the inspiration that comes from being part of a greater whole. It's not all uncertainty and vulnerability and terror and discomfort. Being underway offers an accessible approach to the divine.
The one question I probably struggle with the most is "Does it stop us from being emotionally honest and setting boundaries and feeling like we're enough?" If I had one criticism for myself choosing to go underway, it's that setting boundaries while underway is hard for me. There's always work to be done. And even if, somehow, all the crises are at bay, there are still rules and policies and expectations about how I can act and be...because it's still work, even if we live there. I understand the need for those rules and policies and expectations, and struggle with how they confine my authenticity. Hello, uniforms...and going to bed with wet hair from washing it at night, and hoping it dries before I have to put it back up in a knot seven hours later.
Ha! I was just thinking yesterday, as I was getting my weekly massage (reference my last post about massive gratitude for the amazing abundance my financial situation allows me to enjoy...), about how I miss being intentionally touched. I miss hugs from my friends. I miss sitting shoulder to shoulder with my sister, physically leaning in to her comforting presence. I miss the casual pats on the shoulder in passing by affectionate cousins, the hair ruffling my aunt can't seem to help, the standing arm in arm with a cherished loved one. Handshakes when meeting someone aren't enough. And here's some more vulnerability: I'm nervous about sharing this miss of touch...it feels like it could be easily misinterpreted. But it's important to me, so sharing away...
But isn't that the point? To see the challenges for what they are, see how they affect me, and decide if the trade off is worth it, and if I decide it is, to be okay with it. To find the strength to see myself through, and occasionally come back to see if that's still my truth. That's where the fullest expression of living my best life comes in..from fully experiencing, almost wallowing in the good, the uncomfortable, the sublime, the joy and the pain, the terror and uncertainty as much as the beauty and blessings.
This quote from Theodore Roosevelt usually brings tears to my eyes and fullness to my soul, same as the Helen Keller quote on my blog page:
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."And reading this quote, I understand why one of Brene Brown's books is titled, Daring Greatly.
Two in one weekend...I'm on a roll!
