For Jen

Meaning and depth can come from the most unexpected places sometime. Thank you, Jen, for sharing your current story when I asked for suggestions on writing topics.

Jen said, "I’ve been going through some dark times lately. My father tried to commit suicide about 2 years ago when he was diagnosed with the beginning stages of dementia. I found him. Thankfully, he is still with us, but I question at times if it really is “thankful” - certainly not for him as he tried to commit it again, and for me, it’s been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever gone through. Of course I’m in counseling. But I question - where is his quality of life. His dignity. I don’t know actually where I’m going with this - he was in the Air Force and fought in Vietnam. Out of all of the things in life he’s accomplished (House of Delegates, father, farmer, lawyer, business owner) he identifies with his time in Vietnam & the Air Force the most. I don’t know if you can write anything from this short interlude, but perhaps it would spark something."

Jen, if I could figure out how to put a hug into words, I would offer it to you right now.

We haven't seen each other since probably May 1990 at our high school graduation, and as I remember it, we weren't even close to being besties in school...more like friendly acquaintances who ran in lightly overlapping circles. I was smart and weird and tried to put a good face on not feeling accepted. You were equally smart and much more popular, active in more sports and extracurriculars than I can count, and friendly with everyone. I see the same smile you had as an 18-year-old still so clearly on pictures you posts these days, and I am delighted and thrilled to see you happy, doing what you love with people you love.

And I am so sorry to hear about your father's decline. Watching a parent age and trying to help them through their transition with love and understanding is one of the suckiest parts of adulting there ever was. Therapy helps, but is hardly ever enough to smooth out the day-to-day, difficult grind of watching a loved one physically deteriorate, wear out mentally, or simply run out of care for their life.

My initial response to what you wrote is to talk about my experience with helping my mother through the last few months of her terminal cancer or disengaging from my father through his last decade because I was tired of always being the one to try to have a relationship. I blogged here about my graceless surviving of my mom's last summer. I don't know that I ever took the same time to write about going through my dad's death three days after I reported to a year-long overseas tour. I probably should do that at some point. But not today.

Because I think what you're really asking about in your suggestion is how your dad is experiencing this, especially as it relates to how his military service, short and long ago, defines him to himself. I would not want to try to comment on that for anyone else, so I'll turn the mirror on myself, and ask how does my service define me to me?

I always erupt with a sniggle (giggle + snicker) when I think about that fact that I joined the military *at all!* never mind stayed in for 22 years and rose to be a senior officer and Commanding Officer of numerous warships. It sounds so absurd. You remember that jean jacket I wore in high school...the one with leather fringe down the sleeves and the big peace sign bleached on the back? I cut class with Erica when we heard the news about the US invading Grenada, sitting in a patch of sunshine to try to cheer ourselves up. I demonstrated against the first Gulf War in front of the White House during my first year of college. I was a paying member of NORML while I was in college, even though I could barely afford textbooks and groceries simultaneously. I wanted so badly to be a hippie, but I couldn't justify the expense of patchouli oil to myself back then. I went to class barefoot instead.

Fast forward a few years, past graduate school and a year of working too hard for too little pay for a non-profit, and I wanted to do more than live paycheck to paycheck without health insurance. I was living in Wilmington, NC, where the Station Wrightsville Beach 47-foot motor lifeboats would sail out through the inlet by the dog beach, DILIGENCE (though I had no idea of her name or significance) moored up downtown, and there was a recruiter in a small strip mall on Shipyard Blvd who offered adventure and was very kind about encouraging me to apply directly to Officer Candidate School because I already had a master's degree. I enlisted for five years, with the hope of stabilizing my financial situation, saving some money to buy a farm, and going into environmental pollution response. One outta three ain't bad, I guess! Took me all 22 years to buy the farm, and I never scrubbed a duck my entire time in the CG.

I never had grand patriotic ideals about Serving My Country and Defending Democracy. I gained those along the way. This past summer, sitting at a Norfolk Tides baseball game, my sister and I talked about our individual patriotism for the first time I can remember. For me, I love our country. It's home. It's not perfect, not by a long stretch. We have so much work to do on so many issues of equity, both past, present, and future. It is a whole lot better than a lot of other places. And it's home...I'll work here to make this better where I can, instead of giving in to vengeful, useless whining about how much things suck or how the "good ol' days" were so much better (newsbreak -- they weren't). I was lucky to be born here, not because I'm more worthy than any other human being...simply a vagary of geography. Read my previous posts from early 2016 (especially this one) when DILIGENCE did back-to-back Florida Straits patrols when high numbers of Cubans were trying to make their way to the US before President Obama ended the decades old wet-foot, dry-foot policy to understand where my visceral belief comes from that my privilege of being born American is just pure dumb luck. I honor that luck by saluting the flag, with my Service, and by helping to change what I can where I can to benefit more than just me and mine.

I get there -- just on a different path than many others. Sounds like a definite theme that runs through my life.

It's hard for me to mentally or emotionally separate my service in the Coast Guard from my time as a cutterman. They are one and the same in many ways, because that's how I spent most of my time. And cuttermen are...not the entire Coast Guard, no matter how much we think we should be. I am proud of (and still awed by and in shock from) my 11-and-a-half years stationed on ships. I survived -- no -- thrived in that crucible. I had adventures and overcame challenges, often with little sleep in shitty weather, undermanned and overtasked. I earned my command swagger, and I walked equally among giants.

I don't think I've internalized that yet. Might take me a while still. I tend to focus on my faults, mistakes, and short-comings instead of my impact, successes, and general bad-assery.

And now I face the rest of my life wondering if my greatest days are behind me. If my all-too-brief and incandescently different path I strode as a cutterman and the impact that had on others', peers, superiors, and subordinates (in terms of rank only, not in innate value, of course) alike, was the pinnacle of what I have to offer in this life. While I am enthralled with and committed to my vision of life as a farmer, how can growing tomatoes ever compare to watching a junior officer I've mentored moor a ship in nearly impossible conditions with skill and grace, or leading a crew to save six lives on a broken fishing vessel, or safely land a helo on a ship out of sight of land? It's a righteous question.

It's like comparing apples and horizons...both glorious in their own way, and on totally different planes of existence with a barely shared language.

One other thought, Jen, for your situation. I recommend reading Sebastian Junger's "Tribe" for perspective on what military service can mean to individuals. It's been a while since I read it, so I don't remember many details. I do, however, remember a lot of "ooh, that feels familiar" and "of course, yes, that sounds right and true for me."

I think there are lots of other tendrils to explore about my service. And I didn't touch on any "quality of life" thoughts...which I have plenty to say about since that's a lot of why I decided to retire.

And Jen, hugs and thoughts and thanks and bows to your courage and strength. The only way out is through -- it shouldn't be any other way. May you find the richness on your path.

Do You Journal?

Thanks to Jason Ryan for the prompt.

Yes, I journal. Sometimes. When the mood strikes. I've tried in the past to have some discipline with it; 30 day writing challenges or journaling in connection to my meditation practice. And as I was prepping for retirement, one of the goals I had for myself was to write more. I'd have the time since I wasn't rushing off to work each morning, and I'd have the brain space since I wasn't continually bashing my head against the brick wall of boat problems.

And yet, it hasn't seemed to work out that way. There's always the endless rabbit-hole of retro refrigerators and laundry-to-lawn grey water recapture systems and New Hanover county zoning rules to fall into for hours and wasteful hours. And right now, I have hours and hours more to track that time suck because I'm not at Pond Place, wearing myself out on brush clearing and chipping.

So it's been a few months now that I've sat down with the intention to write more than a couple of sentences or a business-related email. I'm having to force myself into it a little, knowing that once I get started, the words will eventually flow and the log-jam hopefully broken. It's certainly not a hardship for me to write...just requires that discipline that I've let go without the immediacy of work or Pond Place's needs to drive me.

I have a beautiful setting in which to write this morning, on the beach of Playa Carmen in Santa Teresa, Costa Rica. The sun is shining even though it's the rainy season. The waves are about six feet, clean and as close to glassy as it can get with a light side-shore swirly breeze. Greg is out in the water, with about 30 other guys spread over a quarter-mile stretch of surf. I just saw my first dog fight of the trip. A local red mutt got agro with a gringo's chocolate lab, and then a couple other pups piled on the fun. Took about four guys to break it up, all of them dancing around clearly with the experience of having been bit in the past trying to get dogs off each other. I'm not sure how long my comfy spot of dappled shade will last as the sun tracks overhead. There's plenty of other shady spots for me to move to if I need. I wish I had a cup of (decaf) coffee, but that would take me interacting with people to get and my ego isn't up to the disappointment of being looked at like I have three heads when I ask for decaf in a country that is so proud of its coffee production.

When I read Jason's prompt suggestion, I snorted lightly in amusement that there was ever even a question about whether I journaled or not. In typical fashion for me, it took a moment of reflection to see the goodness and potential depth of the query.

I started journaling in the summer of 1988. I was 14 years old, about to turn 15, at flag camp for the marching band. There were boys on the same campus. I gushed over them. I still have those journals. They are not fit for *anyone's* consumption.

Actually, I started writing years before that. I have a vague memory of being eight and thinking I should write a book. How hard could it be? I was reading "Cheaper by the Dozen" by ?????, who was one of 12 kids whose dad was an efficiency expert. Clearly I didn't have as rich a subject matter as they did. I don't think I kept those earliest attempts at storytelling. Thankfully.

From even those earliest efforts of writing, I saw the benefit of getting thoughts out of my head. Using the act of putting words into form to help clarify and quiet the constant chatter of my brain. I kept at it, always sporadically. I went years a time or two without writing. I shouldn't be surprised that those years without writing were some of my hardest and most personally destructive. Alcohol is surprisingly effective at keeping deep thought at bay -- until it isn't any more.

In 2008, I got a little more formal with my writing. My sister had been blogging about professional stuff mixed with a personal touch for a couple of years. I get many of my very bestest ideas from her, so I copy-catted her like any good annoying little sister does. I was in Bahrain, a first-time Commanding Officer in a bit of a pressure cooker, and writing became an outlet for me. That was before the Coast Guard had a policy against posting anonymously on social media, so I genericized my descriptions so I didn't give away my role or mission specifics.

I didn't much like my leadership at the time, and now realize (especially! after having *been* Deputy) that calling the Deputy the "Big Number Two" for all the world to read, while funny (still makes me giggle) was mean-spirited and disrespectful, and not at all the example I want to set for people who are looking to me for leadership guidance. Now I would shift the discussion to how much more useful, beneficial and effective it is to have a cutterman in that position, for both the short- and long-term benefit of the community.

When I got back to the States, there wasn't any way I could see to keep blogging anonymously. That's how justagirlindaworld.blogspot.com came to be on at least two Commandants' and numerous flag officers' radars. I probably should have told my boss at the time that I was writing it, and not let them find out from CCG's EA...whoops. Lesson learned.

I know that blogging is not the same as journaling. I had to be very careful of my audience, and took great effort to spin things positively. And in many ways, that helped too...my journaling can turn into pure whiny bitching vent sessions, which, though cathartic, are not effective at helping me work out my way ahead. Blogging forces me to think about issues from many perspectives and clearly defining desired actions well-rooted in positivity. The wonderful feedback I got from readers was a huge boost in the virtuous cycle that kept me writing that way.

One other benefit of blogging, and I'm finding about journaling online -- no one (including me) has to suffer through my handwriting. I still have my third-grader's penmanship, increasingly marred by age, hurried thoughts and impatience. My family members are kind about very rarely chiding me for it. and one of the first things my JOs learned about working for me was to ask early for a translation if they needed interpretation of my chicken scratch, so my short-comings didn't slow them down needlessly. I have pages and pages of handwritten journal entries that are virtually unreadable because my brain was working faster than my fingers, or I was too tired to try.

I remember my sister being understandably incredulous when I sent her a picture of a penmanship award I won, circa 2010. It was my first time being stationed in DC, and I was volunteering for WAMU's on-air fund drive, answering phones to take pledges. The organizers warned us to be careful with our handwriting so the data entry folks got the right information for the pledges, and they incentivized it with hourly penmanship honors. I was nervous, so I was careful and used my best all caps style, marginally improved by years of hand writing Bridge Logs as a JO. I still thought it was pretty awful, so no one was more surprised than me when the volunteer coordinator handed me the certificate for the second hour of my shift! So I know I *can* write prettily -- I just hardly ever have the patience for it.

That recognition was almost as important to me as when Lynn, my first boss, decided I was capable of writing directional signage and pricing information for Larriland Farm. Very few people were trusted with that back in the day :)

Another bad habit I have with journaling is picking up any random piece of paper easy to hand or being seduced by a brand new fresh journal when I already have one going. I downloaded a journaling app yesterday. Figure I can write everything here, and copy/paste into the blog if I want. Not sure what to do with that so pretty pink, never-been-touched journal made from stone paper I bought this past New Year's Day. I can't save it for "special thoughts," since one of the points of journaling for me is to just get it all out without qualitative judgements. Maybe I'll gift it on.

I feel better now. Lighter in my head. Reassured that the clarity is still there, and with some time, effort and attention, I can find that space, even temporarily, through this medium. Many thanks, Jason, for the simple and effective prompt.

More to come on the rest of the amazing prompts...just not today! 

Sitting in Kairos Time

written on 23 May 2021

By the calendar, I have 30 days left before my Change of Command and Retirement Ceremonies. By my appointment book, I probably have 60 days worth of stuff I need to do before I'm "ready" for 22 June 2021. By my heart, I don't know that I will ever be ready for that date...or maybe I want it to be tomorrow. Either way, I definitely have a sense that time is running at a funny pace right now. 

Last week I went to the first Change of Command I was able to make this year, mostly in support of the outgoing CO, but also to spy a little on their set up to see how we can possibly fit the crew and guests on to our flight deck. As the CO stood to make his remarks, it finally started to sink in for me...that will be me in a month. I took a few very helpful reminders of people to thank from listening to him, and definitely admire his ability to get through the emotion of the moment. I can only hope for that much grace.

And then the next day, CAPT Dash called me to talk through highlights from my career to help him prep his comments for my retirement. I'm so lucky he was willing to take this task on for me. His experience, energy, perspective, and sense of humor all make him such a wonderful choice of speakers to help highlight my last 22 years. As we closed out the very nearly two hour conversation (that he would take that much time to start the prep for his remarks is incredible!), he asked if there was anything specific I wanted him to say about my time on VIGOROUS since the Change of Command commentary was likely to cover most of that. I told him just that I was leaving from exactly where I wanted to. He asked me to explain. And that's where things got...emotional? challenging? overwhelming? yes, probably all those for me. 

I don't remember exactly how I responded, but as I think about it now, I figure it went something like this: every time I think about leaving the cutter community, never getting back underway on a Coast Guard ship as a member of the crew, I feel this devastatingly aching loss in my chest...like someone is reaching into my ribs and yanking out my heart...and then I realize it's my own hand because this is my decision. I know it's the right one and it is so damn hard and painful. Both are true. Deeply, authentically, fundamentally true. I am losing, willingly walking away from that inexplicable alchemy of being part of something greater than myself, working with an ever-changing team doing a hard job in a demanding, dangerous, mind-blowingly beautiful environment that will fuck your world while simultaneously offering a balm to the soul. We all talk about the amazing sunrises and sunsets, the sparkle of the Milky Way against that darkest of nights, the wonder of marine life, and all the physical beauty of the ocean. We talk about the wonderful people we meet and work with and the bond barely scratched by the term "shipmate." We talk about the meaningfulness of the mission, of rescuing mariners at sea, and being the responders where few people ever even get to go. We talk about the power of teams to get those dangerous missions done, the power of facing challenges with other dedicated professionals that help us all achieve more than we could alone. 

When you mix all those ingredients in the bowl of a Coast Guard ship, the resultant experience is so much more than the individual parts. It becomes an experience beyond words, a quicksilver resonance that defies encapsulation in mere human expression, and vibrates in my bones making me feel indisputably alive and incandescent. As I said in my last PATSUM CO's comments, without it I am once again a mere dirt-bound mortal. 

I'm not sure the reality ever fully lived up to my expectation of belonging, but it didn't not either. How much of feeling different was in my own head from being female in a male-dominated environment? How much more of that incandescence could I have sucked up if I tried a little harder? Been a little better? Stayed around a little longer? Cared a little more? That is one of the beauties of my memory -- the sucky parts of the challenges have mellowed into a fine patina with time, so that mostly the best parts of sea stories glow the brightest. 

I doubt I've written my last attempts at trying to explain the magic of being underway on a cutter. It is a big part of me...but not all of me. And it's time to give the rest of me a chance to see what she's got. 

All Lines Over

I wrote this post on 2 May 2021, and am just now getting to posting it now. I've done that for the last bunch of posts -- my apologies for any confusion with the timeline of things. I think I have one more backlogged post, and then I'll be back to writing in real time.

**********************

And just like that, my last patrol is over. Lines are made up and doubled up, engines are shut down, steering is secured, the brow is over, and shore ties are providing hotel services. I have no surprise left in me that the patrol didn't go like we planned. 

We spent the first ten-ish days working for D5, investigating the foreign fishing fleet operating between the US and Bermudan EEZs about 300 miles offshore. We got them some great imagery which helped them in their discussions with the Regional Fisheries Management Office, and may open discussions with partner nations about licensing and enforcement options. We got a little beat up by the weather after the first few days, and the last few days of that stretch kinda fizzled as another cutter took over lead on the operation. We made it back to homeport for a couple day port call. 

And then we broke. I vaguely remember an issue with one of the generators, but I can't for the life of me remember the specifics right now. We sent a couple crewmembers driving to Baltimore to pick up a part we needed, and lost two days to waiting on parts and making repairs. We were back underway, in the middle of an underway Officer of the Deck (OOD) board for one of the junior officers when we set General Emergency (GE) for flooding in the engine room.

Because, why not? on my last patrol.

One of the break-ins was doing drawings between the mains, and noticed some water that was flowing, but not in sync with how the ship was moving. Looking around, he found where it was flowing out of a pipe, and called a watchstander over. (I love this part of the story that I heard about later when we were back inport). The watchstander put his finger over the leak to keep it from continuing, while he radioed to Main Control for back up. More folks showed up, and by this time the hole in the raw water supply line was about 1". I think this is about when we set GE. I got a phone call (still in the underway OOD board) from EO who was in the engine room (he had left the board about three minutes prior), telling me we had a hole in the raw water supply line to the NR2 MDE, recommend we set GE for main space flooding.

Now, when my EO, with 21 years of engineering experience, 8+ years of sea time, who was a former Chief Damage Controlman tells me we should set GE for flooding, I'm not gonna fuck around! I ran up to the bridge, wondering why they hadn't made the pipe yet...only to find that our 1MC was down. I told the QMOW to start calling berthing areas to get people moving. I took the Conn and then the Deck so the OOD could get down to his billet in the repair locker, and people started arriving on the bridge...including ET1 who quickly got told to go fix the 1MC.

They put in a 3" plug, and the metal was so deteriorated, the hole just got bigger as the plug was jammed in. They got the engine shut down, and secured the valves to the raw water pipe. Even with two valves between the sea chest and the damage, we still had some water leaking through, but nothing like we originally had. The attack team finally got synthoglass installed, and we waited the 30 minutes for it to cure. By this time, other OODs had come to the bridge, and I relinquished the Deck and Conn. We turned around for a down swell ride to give the guys in the engine room a more steady platform. Just happened that this put us in the direction of returning to port for repairs. I don't know that I ever had more than a passing thought that there was another option but to go home and get fixed. I guess we could have stayed underway with the synthoglass repair, and make a permanent repair later...but it just made sense to me that we shouldn't take that risk when the safety offered by a close port was so near. In hindsight, looking at what the pipe looked like when they got it cleaned up, I know I made the right choice.

We got back to homeport before sunset that evening, and it took about four days for the system to get our repairs in place. At that point, we only had about a week left to work for D1, and we made the most of some amazingly calm weather to knock out 21 boardings in two days in the scallop fleet operating about 120 miles east of Cape Cod. The weather turned to crap after that, so we found some safe haven in Long Island Sound to wait out the blow...until we got recalled for SAR the morning of the day it was supposed to get really bad offshore. 

OPS called me at 0500 that morning, "Captain, got some bad news..." It would have been out of character for me not to cuss, and I value predictability as a leader, so yeah, I cussed. One of the fishing vessels in the fleet we had just left broke down, and was being towed back to shore by another fishing vessel, making 2 knots towards port. The on-scene weather was 6-8 foot seas, and building. We were tasked with heading out that way to escort them back to port. About four hours into our 220 mile transit out to them, they reported that the tow had broke, and now the fishing vessel was dead in the water. They reported on scene weather of 18 feet (I'm a little skeptical of that...but then again, I wasn't there...). We picked up the pace to get out to them, as much as we could with a building 10-foot following sea, and got on scene at about 2300. Weren't no way I was attempting a tow at that hour in the 13 foot seas we were seeing -- they were stable, just uncomfortable, so we waited until daybreak the next day to set the Towing Bill. Weather had abated just a smidge to about 10 foot seas, still with winds in the low 30 kts. 

I hadn't slept much that night, both from the crappy ride and from worrying about how the hell we were gonna get the vessel in tow. Having slept in the wardroom to get a marginally better ride, I woke up super early, and reminded myself to stay calm, not rush today of all days, and give people the time they needed to do this massively risky evolution safely without constantly nagging them for updates. We were finally ready to make our approach at about 0930. 

And I'm pretty sure angels sang that morning. It's happened a handful of times throughout my career where the moment is so supremely sublime that there's no other earthly explanation for the coming together so completely of an experience. 

As we approached the fishing vessel, a pod of about six humpbacks started breaching around the boat. One of them stuck their snout straight up out of the water about eight feet, looking around to see what was going on -- just a, "hey guys, whatcha doing?" peek. OPS was driving -- he is a masterful shipdriver (I'm good -- he's on another level of skill entirely). He asked if we wanted to make a practice pass. We decided that if we had a good shot, we should take it. His approach was lovely, very controlled and working with the environmental elements. It was a combo crossing-the-T and 45 approach, with just enough of an angle to use the power of the engines into the wind to control our bow. The fishing boat had their scallop basket on the bottom which was keeping them stern-to, almost quartering the seas, and definitely slowed their rate of drift. Guns (GM1) was a little early with the line-throwing gun, and the first shot got blown within 20 feet of their bow, but didn't make it over. So we came around for another approach.

Which was just as good as the first one, maybe even a tetch closer. My only contribution was at one point telling OPS that his bow was falling off to starboard and we needed to come left a little more to keep the good approach angle. Pretty sure he already saw that because he had the rudder going over before I got all the words out of my mouth. Guns got a great shot this time, sent the shot line up into the fishing boat's mast. The tricky part was definitely holding station while the fishing boat crew hauled around on nearly 1,200 feet of shot line, messengers, and finally got the double-legged bridle up through their bow chocks. We spent most of the time on the bridge marveling at the show the humpbacks were putting on. OPS kept us right there, adjusting as needed when it looked like we were closing up more than was comfortable...but was perfectly timed to help them get all the line over on their deck and the bridle hooked up. We started easing out the line, til we had a 1,000 feet of towline at the rail. Bit was made, and we settled into it. 

Our trackline back to shore was straight into the seas. We were only able to make 2 kts also -- didn't want to risk parting our towline with shockloading it. And so we towed. Their ride looked awful, but at least they were making way again.

The weather continued to settle down ever so slowly throughout the day, and by daybreak the next morning, we were making 4.5 to 5 kts. Which was a damn good thing, because we had only gone about 30 miles overnight from where we picked them up. About 0800 that morning, they radioed over, saying they had gotten their engine started and wanted to break tow. They could make better time under their own power. 

Another super smooth evolution and we were escorting them back to Martha's Vineyard. By Saturday night, we were close enough that another asset could respond if they had any more trouble, and we broke station to head south. We were gonna be late for TSTA one way or another. 

We were supposed to start TSTA at 0800 on Monday. We got ATO onboard by around 1030, so we weren't that far behind, and were back on track with our syllabus by the end of the day. We got some good training out of TSTA, but of course, it didn't go quite as planned. We ended up anchoring a day early, under a safe to sail waiver because we had the $0.30 o-ring onboard to fix the fuel leak on the NR2 SSDG fuel injector pump cylinder, but we didn't have the $15 specialized spline wrench to swap out the o-ring. Oh, and by the time we got to anchorage, we were having problems with the emergency switchboard buss breaker again. Just seemed to make more sense to anchor, get the wrench, fix the SSDG, and then get back to port to do the remaining inport drills so we didn't have to worry about the EDG not being able to automatically take the load if we lost power from the SSDG.

Oops, but we forgot to implement strict water conservation while at anchorage, so we ended up securing sewage Thursday morning just in time for reveille. Smf.

We moored at Base Portsmouth at 0930 on Thursday morning, tucked up into the southern-most inshore berth with an on-the-dock wind. OPS asked me if I wanted to drive in. Of *course* I wanted to drive in!! But that's not my role right now, and the JOs have few opportunities to handle the ship alongside a pier as it is, so SUPPO drove in, and did a great job of it. And there we'll stay until after the Change of Command (barring any early season hurricanes that might cause us to have to sortie...). 

I am joyously relieved to not have the added risk to ship and personnel of being underway. And I am heart-broken and soul-crushed that I won't ever again be a part of a Coast Guard crew sailing off to that unknown horizon, ready to take it all on together. 

On The Eve

28 March 2021

And here I am, somehow on the eve of departing for my last patrol. And with The Universe's sense of exceptional timing, Southern Cross is playing on Pandora. It's been 14 years since I've been south of the Equator to see the Southern Cross, but that song has always been one of my favorites, and became even more special after that first patrol on HAMILTON where we crossed the line. 

I'm well on the way with my patrol preps. 7 days of smoothies made and in the freezer turning solid - check. One batch of granola made for once the smoothies run out - check. A goodly number of podcasts downloaded - check. One more batch of booch bottled and SCOBY hoteled - check. Sheets are in the laundry, I still have to pack the daily sundries, and I'd be a damn fool if I didn't find a few more books to take with me. 

Greg asked me recently how I was feeling about getting underway. It was far enough before we left that I wasn't really in full prep mode so I gave him a kind of non-answer. I think my answer is different today. Today I'm nostalgic about temporary loss of the comforts of my home, mourning the separation from sleeping in my own bed, how the light streams through the living room windows to burnish the wood furniture, making dinner for myself or just having an apple with cheese at a reasonable hour, running through my neighborhood in the blossoming spring, my kitties' foibles and quirks that I'll miss over the next few weeks. 

Now is not the time to be thinking of all the reasons I love going to sea. It would ring a little hollow. I'm sure I'll feel different on the eve of returning from patrol -- especially from this one.

This is a short patrol, only 31 days, god willin' and the crick don't rise...with the caveat added because we didn't get to finish our last patrol as planned because of generator issues...like multiple issues on both SSDGs. Given how the pandemic changed so many things, I know I didn't get to have the experience I wanted from my last tour at sea. I'm pissed about it and recognize that being pissed about it doesn't change the reality of it but only prevents me from making the most of what I can from it -- I stay in my own damn way if I hold onto being mad and grumpy and dispossessed by it. 

I'm nervous about the weather. My sea sickness has abated over the years, but I know other people's hasn't and it's just exhausting to get tossed about. We're going pretty far offshore, with no good places to run if it gets really gross. OPS' observation was to find a good ride, which thankfully we should have the flexibility to do -- mostly. 

Ugh, and just ugh, the middle of the night phone calls. I know the OODs feel bad about calling me, and they're following my orders, and I **want** them to call if they need to -- but fuck! that achy-ness in my very bones that settles in after a few nights of not getting un-interrupted sleep, and always having some part of my consciousness attuned to the sounds of the ship. It is a very physical reminder of the ultimate responsibility inherent to command. I wouldn't have it any other way -- and there are small moments I rue the truth of it. 

Maybe now is the time to remind myself of why I love going to sea...:) There is a lessening of self, and integration into a greater whole.

Instead, I'm gonna go enjoy some quality time lounging on my couch, reading a book, and hoping a cat deigns to come keep me company.

Next Step in Retirement Planning, COCON Realizations, and a Spectrum of Approaches to Risk

7 Mar 2021

This session I was supposed to write about my retirement to-do list, how I wanted to approach it. Makes me want to poke myself in the eye because it would suck less. Just, blech. I think my reaction is partly because I'm slightly overwhelmed by all of everything I need and want to do. Like right now, I really want to post to Facebook a "Save the Date" notice for my Change of Command because that's a small concrete task that I could knock out pretty easily, but first I really should wait for confirmation of the date/time from Area, and then figure out if I want to have my party/celebration the same day as the COC and retirement ceremonies, but first I really should talk to my sister, who is likely traveling the furthest to hopefully attend...and each little task hydras into about four other things I should do first, and my heart starts to pound a little harder and my head hurts. And with that particular task (posting a Save the Date to FB) will likely spawn into lots and lots of comments from friends and family that I will really want to savor and respond to with thoughtfulness...and I'm not sure I'm ready to make that time commitment yet either. I'm punting a lot of this stuff to our ROM that starts in a week.

My other quandary is a little embarrassingly pedantic. I've already admitted my penchant for writing Important Things in rando places I can't find them later. I also have about five different journals going simultaneously -- even one dedicated specifically to retirement planning. So yes -- I've just decided that notebook is where I will write down my to-do/action item lists for each of my goals. Maybe this way I'll even finish up using the whole journal specifically on retirement. Wouldn't that be a personal gold star for me! :)

And with that subject addressed, I'll go on with other fun (to me) things. 

This past week was the Area Major Cutter Commanding Officers Conference (COCON). It was virtual, which in some ways was great (I participated from an "offsite work location," i.e., down in Wilmington, NC so I could close on my new property, and we got some guests in that likely wouldn't have been able to participate if they had to travel to New London) and in some ways was just not very satisfying (six hours a day in front of the screen, frequent mic checks by new speakers, all the lost sidebar conversations and camaraderie that were the best part of the previous COCONs I went to). 

One point finally did sink in for me at some point during the week...this past year in command during COVID was...something. I don't know if it was all the three- and four-star (well, except VCG) Admirals and lots of other members in senior leadership acknowledging the sacrifices being make by major cutter crews, or if it was the sense of awe and tangible respect I saw in the eyes of a couple of Prospective Commanding Officers (PCOs) when they heard us talking about how sitting COs made it through the year. I mean, I've read the thanks in every message and email senior leadership has sent out, and it's been said at each of the couple of engagements they've had, but somehow those all just felt like platitudes -- something they had to say at the beginning and end of each communique -- the gratitude sandwich that contains the actual message they wanted to get across, whether it was a policy change or update on something. Maybe it was the consistent reinforcement throughout the week, and the genuineness with which many of them spoke that caused me to finally believe it was heart-felt.

Maybe it's the realization that other people saw how much this year has sucked on a major cutter that made me sit up a little straighter and be a little more proud that I've seen it through so far...maybe not with all the grace and brilliance I would have wanted being the perfectionist that I am, but I did get us through some pretty shitty times. It'll take me a while to unpack all my experiences from this year, and more broadly this tour, but I'm grateful for the opportunity COCON gave me to see it from another perspective.

And for some reason this past week, I started thinking about a risk engagement spectrum. People engage with risk along this spectrum -- from risk seeking at one end to risk rejection at the other end. The named levels I identified are:

-- risk seeking
-- risk accepting

-- risk tolerant

-- risk avoidant

-- risk rejecting

The whole thought experience started when I was thinking about my real estate purchasing adventures, from the very first house I bought (putting an offer in on a house in Waialua, HI without having seen the inside of it because if I waited to see it, someone else would have it under contract because that's how hot the market was then -- sound familiar, anyone?) to the property I just closed on (again, putting an offer in before having seen it because I knew it was great deal, and someone else would have snapped it up if I didn't). I was trying to label that, thinking at first I was demonstrating risk tolerance. But that didn't seem quite right -- tolerance implies a resistance to something...I tolerate cleaning the cats' litter box because it's a requisite part of owning indoor cats, but I'd sure rather someone else did it for me. 

So I went through my mental thesaurus to see if there was a better word for recognizing the risk of making a major purchase without all the desired information and moving ahead regardless, and came up with risk acceptance. I accept that there is risk to how I approach my real estate purchases, and move ahead anyway with out all the resistance implied by risk "tolerance." 

I like where I am on the risk spectrum, tending towards less resistant end. I acknowledge that some of what I do is even risk seeking -- motorcycle riding and this crazy idea for a standup paddle board trip down the Intercoastal Waterway I'm planning for July to September are two examples that come readily to mind in my personal life. For me I've found that my life is sweeter and more fulfilling on this end. And I respect other people's right to live where they want on the risk spectrum, as long as their risk aversions don't impede my choices. 

Action Steps

21 March 2021

I took a couple of weeks away from writing about my retirement planning. Some was for work, some was for fun...and it was time away from writing about it, because heaven knows, I still spend plenty!! of time thinking about it. Today, I'm sitting down to write some action steps for each of my goals in each of my buckets. 

And what I'm finding is that it's not time yet for Action Steps. I already have plans in place, or things in motion to make things happen -- and there are definitely actions that I can take to move those things along (buy gear for the SUP trip; make a decision about building a new passive solar house at Pond Place, set up calendar reminders for Important Adulting Tasks). There are also many things it's simply not time for yet, like learning to surf (just BBBRRRRRR right now!), finding meaningful projects to work on, or take classes. Maybe this is where I can make determinations about "now" and "later" on particular goals. Because some days, when I get too far into thinking about how much there is that I want to do, I get overwhelmed, and don't do what I could be doing now. 

One of my Home Goals is to "adapt my forever home to my needs and wants." And I just get stuck on that -- there is just so much to do with the property. Bite sized bits, C...bite sized bits. After talking to a couple contractors, and realizing that it may not be worth it to try to save the old house (as much as my heart aches to), we've been looking at Deltec Homes, the Ridgeline F particularly. There are so many reasons I like it: passive solar, ready to be net-zero with the installation of solar panels, the company is a B Corp based in North Carolina, the pond is on the south side of the property so all the big windows will face the pond, we can customize the design. There are also so many reasons I'm terrified of it: it'll probably cost $350k+ to build (which seems like a lot of money for some reason even though I've spent more on that on other houses that weren't custom designed), there's a lot that goes into building a house that I am completely clueless about (it's interesting to me that my reaction to doing something I've never done before is so timid), what if we can't find a good builder or a good builder that can work on our timeline. 

And so my very first action step for this Home Goal is, "Acknowledge I want to build a Deltec Home." Because that's where I feel like it all starts. Right now I'm in that pre-decisional space that I find so uncomfortable, and my mental hamster is sprinting along on her wheel getting nowhere but exhausted...where all the what ifs grow to be unclimbable mountains and spawn monsters with glowing eyes and poison-dripping teeth. I definitely get overloaded with too many choices, so being able to narrow down to choosing a particular home design helps...and I have to refer back to the "bite-sized bits" reminder when I start thinking about all the choices that will come up when I do decide to go with Deltec. 

Back to deciding "now" or "later" for my goals...

What is Ending -- Step 3

21 Feb 2021

"You can’t do something new until you have let go of what you are currently doing." 

That's the most powerful statement to me from William Bridges Associates' (WBA) article The Three Questions. The article goes on to talk about how even "good" changes start from a place of losing what has been, what is familiar, and how not acknowledging this loss can delay the transition. Taking the time to articulate and understand that loss builds trust, allows issues to come to light, and can help with identifying tools to manage through the transition. 

There are two questions that come before this one, though. The questions WBA offer are:

• What is changing?
• What will be different because of the change?
• Who's going to lose what?

Seems I love me some bulletized lists.

What is changing? 

"The planners know only that there needs to be change in response to some threatening presence or some great opportunity “out there...” But until that vagueness can be clarified and until the leaders of the change can explain it clearly, in a statement lasting no longer than one minute, there is no way that they are going to be able to get other people to buy into the change...And be sure that the statement ties the change to whatever situation it is that makes the change important."

After 22 years of active duty service, I am retiring to pursue unidentified and varied opportunities in the civilian world. These opportunities will allow me to grow personally in new ways, give me a deep sense of being rooted in a place, and enable me to cultivate my community intentionally. 

What will be different because of the change?

"A change may seem very important and very real to the leader, but to the people who have to make it work it seems quite abstract and vague until actual differences that it will make begin to become clear."

I will be responsible for my own decisions. There won't be a detailer or an operational commander to blame when my schedule goes haywire or I don't end up liking what I've chosen to do with my time. I am geographically moving after a summer of travel, and there are a ton of unknowns associated with that upheaval (will I be able to feed myself and have safe places to sleep on my SUP trip, where will we stay for MerleFest, will I be physically able to hike the Inca Trail given the intense elevation, how long will the renovations on the Pond Place house take, how much will they cost, do we want to immediately or even simultaneously build a second house on the property, when can we get chickens and ducks, what kind of fence should we put up as a barrier to the Very Busy Road...).

I will be responsible for *only* my own decisions. I won't have the weight of other peoples' safety, sense of personal and professional fulfillment, or consequences of their personal choices hanging over me. No more phone calls or texts at all hours with imperfect and incomplete information that I'm expected by my bosses, my organization, the American public to make good decisions about and take appropriate and timely action on. 

I may not feel the external, enterprise-driven pressure to keep performing at a higher and higher level, always taking on more responsibility (but then again, knowing me, I may...). There are no longer any OERs against which to judge my efforts since I've already submitted my continuity OER(!!). For now, and until my Change of Command, I still exist under the considerable threat of a relief for cause if I screw up. It shouldn't be any other way, *and* I'll be glad when that sword of Damocles is lifted from over my head.

I will have more time to thoroughly pursue my own interests. No more pressure to feel like I should be doing more for the crew and ship. No more feeling vaguely guilty at taking 20 minutes to stretch in the morning before work. No more feeling like I don't have the time to dive into something because I'll be leaving in a month to get underway for patrol or leaving the local area on PCS, and what's the point about starting something that I'll just have to put down too soon anyway. 

Who is going to lose what?

"For it is by asking that question, that you open the door to the transitions that people will have to make if the change is to work. It is that question that helps them to let go of the old way, so that the new way can be established and work."

I thought my answer was just going to be about what I stand to lose. I tear up when I realize it is not.

I will lose:

-- more than half the pay I've gotten accustomed to spending and saving over the last few years. Good-bye, BAH and sea pay...

-- a sense of purpose that gets me out of the house and into a more social setting on a regular and expected basis

-- relevancy to my adopted afloat community; as soon as I say, "I stand relieved" my relevant experience is outdated and obsolete (though not as grossly obsolete as the 1MC system on most CG ships...)

-- immediate and regular access to people younger than I am, from an amazing and inspiring array of backgrounds and upbringings, with all their energy and enthusiasm, interests and ways of thinking

-- a familiar way of navigating the military benefits system. Hello, VA. Just, ugh...

-- the shock factor they experience and significant amount of humble pride I feel when I tell people I am Commanding Officer of a 210-foot Coast Guard ship, with a crew of 80 sailors, conducting law enforcement, national defense and humanitarian missions throughout the Atlantic Ocean; I mean, seriously -- mic drop

-- the satisfaction of coming up with creative and holistically sound (no "easy buttons" here!) paths through perniciously tricky operational, personnel, and administrative challenges

-- unfettered access to the deep blue sea, all her mysteries, monsters, beauties, and breathtaking changeability; the sense of possibility that comes of looking out at the far horizon; the blanket of stars and the company of the Milky Way and the moon; the risk-mitigated adventure of sailing out through the last set of gated pairs, past the sea buoy into the unknown and unexpected

The Coast Guard is losing me,:

-- a driven, caring, experienced leader who is thoughtful, self-aware, empathetic, and a good communicator

-- a change agent who is willing to speak out and share my experiences when I feel they will offer a perspective different from the prevailing majority in pursuit of long term organizational benefit

-- a damn fine shipdriver and operator

-- a female senior officer in the afloat community...we're sadly very rare. By my records, CDR Anne O'Connell will be only the 20th woman to take major cutter command this summer; it has been over 25 years since then CDR Beverly Kelley took command of her WMEC -- a piss poor record given the CG's stated commitment to diversity...

I thought about adding what my shipmates will lose; however, I will still always be available to my shipmates as a sounding board, celebrator of successes, commiserator of stumbles, and sea-story teller and listener. Just the means of access will change.

I feel like there are more things to be added to what will be different and who will lose what. I should remind myself to do a reprisal on this post at the six-month-ish post-retirement mark. There -- reminder set for 2 Jan 2022.

In my next session, I will work on Step 2b: Identify at least one Action Item for each goal...though I think more realistically, it will be about setting up how I will do that or maybe what I am learning from the process, because grinding through making my "to do" list on the blog sounds like a sure way of getting people to stop reading it!

Step 2a, Part 2 -- it's not as boring as it sounds, I promise!

14 Feb 2021

I didn't write last weekend because I was down in Wilmington looking at the property I'm buying, now known as Pond Place (at least until we settle on a better, more knowledgeable name for it). It is everything I thought it would be and more. I'm in the throes of dreaming about it now that I have a better mental picture of it -- So Many Fun Things to ponder with it. I think I may have rotted my brain a little yesterday with looking at all the images of "small homes open concept eclectic farmhouse" designs. I was going to go with "boho" but apparently that means you have to have a swinging chair in the room...

Back to Step 2a, though. I made it through the first three buckets the last time I wrote, and my goal for this morning (or what's left of this Valentine's Day morning after making blueberry muffins for breakfast, bottling batch #10 and brewing batch #15 of kombucha) is to finish writing down my aspirations -- maybe not so much goals as Greg pointed out to me what I'm putting on paper aren't SMART goals -- for the remaining five buckets.

• Home 
• Employment
• Physical Health
• Hobbies/Interests/Life-long Learning
• Finances
• Self Care
• Relationships
• Travel

Hobbies/Interests/Life-long Learning: Stop learning, start dying. I have so much to say here, I'm going to come back to this one after I've cleared through the others.

Finances: As I said, I don't need a job; my pension will see me through daily expenses as long as I'm not overly extravagant. When I first started thinking about retiring this summer, one of the very first things I did was to put together a budget to see where I'd be. I've been using mint.com for the last 12 years or so to track my spending, so I had pretty good data on what my spending habits have been. I know they'll change somewhat, but I really don't expect them to be vastly different...maybe actually a little lower since I won't have the boom/bust cycle of preparing for (high spending) and going on patrol (low spending) and since the cost of living in Wilmington is maybe a little less than Norfolk. But there still will be some things to consider.

• Set up automatic tithing donations, either to my charitable donations account or directly to the organizations I chose to support. Sadly, I've fallen off with my giving these last couple of years, and I definitely want to get back to it. I remember when I was in Bahrain, I did some deep reflection on what my values were and how I wanted those reflected in my donations. I came up with four primary charities to support, and wrote them down...somewhere (*again!* with the rando spot for writing Important Things down!). If I remember correctly, the charities were Doctors Without Borders, Evidence Action, Propublica, and Berea College's (my alma mater) African American Opportunity Fund...though I feel like I'm missing one because I can't believe there's not an environmental cause in there too. So I guess I need to figure out what that will be also.
• Work on my Big Book of Everything. I started it one afternoon a couple of years ago and haven't touched it since. I want to keep adding to it, and make a calendar reminder to review it annually.
• Plan to review my spending habits/budget annually. Make a calendar reminder for this...but probably not on the same day as reviewing my Big Book of Everything because that is just **too much** grown-upedness for one day...in fact, those two events should probably be separated by six months!

Self care: Not quite sure how this one is really different from Physical Health, but I can make a good enough argument to leave it here. 

• Go on a silent retreat. I was scheduled to go on one here in April 2020, but then...COVID. I'll have time and flexibility to try again sometime in 2022.
• Incorporate a meditation/yoga space into Pond Place, maybe even as omg! a tree house!! A girl can dream :)
• Find a new massage therapist in Wilmington. My least favorite part about leaving Norfolk will be not being close enough to my massage therapist here for regular massages. Michael at Flow Massage and Bodywork is hands down (tee hee) the best MT I've ever been to. And he's become a good friend. I am hoping I can find someone in Wilmington who is close to his league. Won't stop me from making an appointment with him anytime I happen to be in Norfolk!
• Seek out live music. I haven't had nearly enough of that in my life lately -- definitely due partly to COVID, but also just work.

Relationships: I wasn't really sure what I intended by including this as a bucket. Thinking it through now, though, I sense that a ring analogy works well here. 

• For my inner ring of closest loved ones, I want to prioritize time with them. Doesn't necessarily have to be in person, though that would be wonderful. I want to remember birthdays and anniversaries, talk regularly, give presents, tell them I love them, and share experiences that make new memories.
• For my close friends and family, I want the same thing...and recognize that life gets busy and everything can't be a priority. I still want to remember birthdays, talk maybe less frequently but regularly, and be fully present when I'm with them.
• For my local community, I want to get to know my neighbors and people I see regularly, support them where I am able, and again be fully present when I'm with them.
• For my professional community, I want to stay in touch. I know I'm going to lose the regular everydayness of going to work and seeing colleagues, but I'd like to maintain those connections I've made over the last 21 years. I am going to selfishly keep my personal email on the community of cutter(wo)men email distribution list when I turn it over to the next caretaker. I would like to tap into the community of local CG retirees in the local area -- goodness knows there are plenty in Wilmington. 

Travel: Oh my, the possibilities are endless! And yet, I know I'll have to actively plan to go places because otherwise it would be oh so easy to just blissfully settle into my daily routine at home and never go beyond 25 miles of Pond Place. 

• Plan at least one big (multi-week, probably international) trip a year.
• Write down a bucket list of places I want to go. I know it's in my head, but writing down things helps me.
• I already have tentative plans for this summer -- action packed with all kinds of fun adventures. Paddle boarding the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) from Norfolk as far south as I can go in about two months starting about two weeks after my Change of Command, then to MerleFest in the NC mountain foothills (I planned to go last year, and yep, COVID-cancelled), then a couple of weeks in Costa Rica with Greg showing me around his adopted home, then down to Peru with Greg for the hiking tour from Cusco to Machu Picchu and some time on the coast at Chicama, and then back to CR to help Greg make his move back to the States, and landing in ILM sometime before Thanksgiving. Yep, that'll keep me travel-satisfied for a little while!

Hobbies/Interests/Life-long Learning: Ok, back to this one. So Many Possibilities!! Especially since I still haven't tapped into my GI Bill, including the $5400 kicker which I vested in back in '99 when that was a thing.

• Write, write, write. I want to write. I want the freedom and the lack of pressure and the time to write. It might be this blog or it might be just a journal for me or it might be something else that I eventually even try to publish. But I want to write! I want it to be something I do regularly and can't imagine not doing.
• First round of classes I'm thinking about taking, with the possibility of various certifications: welding, massage therapy, permaculture design. Just for fun and because I can. Hmm, I see my privilege flaunting itself...
• Explore my entrepreneurial inclinations. I have a couple of hobby-to-business ideas rattling around in my head. Kombucha-brewing, granola-making, and upcycling old ODUs into bags are the top three. 
• Start a sourdough starter, try making sauerkraut, and get into bokashi composting. Explore the microbiome :)

Ok, so maybe there wasn't so much for that last one. But it feels good to get those things officially on the record.

** Step 3: Ready myself for the Ending by talking (writing) about what is ending -- there is *definitely* a blog post (at least one, maybe more) in this step.

In my next session, I will devote time to Step 3, with the intention of exploring what is ending. 

Steps 1 and 2a

31 Jan 2021

I looked and looked, and never did find the mission statement I drafted a while ago. Lost to the winds of life detritus, I guess. So this Sunday morning session, I'll write another one and then start on putting some goals in my buckets. 

When I couldn't find my original mission statement, I jotted down a few phrases that popped into my head about my values and how I want to live my life. As I wrote them down, they are: limit my ecological footprint, be compassionate toward others, mindfully and authentically, connection to place, grow and nurture my community. Seems like now it's just a matter of stringing them together with good grammar. 

"With mindfulness, authenticity, and lots of laughter, I will grow and nurture my community by helping others achieve their personal and professional goals and building my own strong connection to place. I will limit my ecological footprint and be compassionate toward myself and others."

I may continue tinkering with it. It's Very Serious right now. 

Step 1: Satisfied (for now)

On with Step 2a. I used the following identifiers for my buckets so I could start to untangle and make sense of my goals in retirement. Now that it's time to start actually verbalizing those goals, I realize that I haven't really determined the timeline for these goals. Are they short-term (maybe 6 months to a year after retirement), medium term (one to five years), or long term (more than five years)? Maybe that will be more obvious once I get them written out.

• Home
• Employment
• Physical Health
• Hobbies/Interests/Life-long Learning
• Finances
• Self Care
• Relationships
• Travel

Home -- this is so much about my connection with place. I've moved 15 times in the last 21 years, twice overseas. The longest I've spent in one house is four years, and during those four years, I made significant long-term improvements on my house and planted berries in my yard. For the last two and a half years, I've lived in apartments with negligible outdoor space. I want to know how the sun moves through the trees over the course of a year. I want to feed myself from my yard. I want to get to know my neighbors. I want to be an integrated part of the natural cycles of the land around me, instead of some loud-mouth know-it-all who dominates all the conversations in the room.

• Find my forever home: that place I want to call home for the next however-many decades I have left on this planet. And OMG!!! I made an offer, and it was accepted within hours on 1.57 acres on a high spot with water-access to Masonboro Sound (ivo Wilmington, NC) and a decrepit old house, beautiful ancient live oak and magnolia trees, and a pond! Oh, there's plenny work to be done on it, for certain...which leads me to my next goal. I close in less than 30 days! SO EXCITED! I go down to see it next weekend (um, so, yes, I bought it sight-unseen...what can I say? It's worked out well for me in the past...).
• Adapt my forever home to my needs and wants: I made a list (duh, obviously I made a list) of the things that I'd like my forever home to have, including a small, low impact house for Greg and me, maybe a second house for extended family, a tiny home just for fun and maybe to rent out AirBnB-style, a kombucha-brewing granola-baking commercial-certified kitchen, a workshop for upcycling projects, a fire pit, a screened porch, and a studio for yoga/meditation/writing/whatever. I mean -- 1.57 acres -- I'm pretty sure it will all fit, with some combination of a tree house, conex building(s), Allwood kit, and maybe onsite-harvested wood. And then the grounds -- a permaculture garden with annual and perennial fruits and vegetables, berry brambles and bushes, fruit trees, and if I get **really** creative, espaliered avocado and lime trees up against a south facing wall to see if I can baby them through the winter. And then there's the pond...I want to learn about the area's hydrology and fresh-water aquatic flora and fauna. Maybe a little fishing spot...?? Oh, and chickens...can't forget the chickens (maaaaybeeee camels...I have planted a seed of possibility with a neighbor...).
• Starting in 2022, host an annual gathering full of family and friends so we can share this beautiful, bountiful peaceful place with others. Make it a tradition that we look forward to with contributing traditions and rituals that feed our bodies and souls.

Employment -- by way of some damn good luck and my mostly frugal ways, I don't need an extra paycheck after I leave active duty. What I get paid in my pension just for waking up in the morning will cover my basic living expenses. I even have enough saved to cover a lot (but definitely not all! It's a long list!) of the "improvements" to our new place. So I'm kinda ambivalent about this employment thing. But then I start thinking about all the leadership skills and management abilities I gained after 22 years in a challenging operational environment, and I feel, not obligated necessarily, but some draw to use those skills to help other people. 

• Work on meaningful projects, things that resonate with me and support my mission statement, like food security, environmental sustainability and justice, individual empowerment, mindfulness, justice system reform.
• Be clear with myself and other that my time and skills are valuable. That may still mean a lot of volunteering, or doing work for less pay than my efforts may be worth based on who is asking and what their situation and ask is. 

Physical Health -- This one is a tough acknowledgement for me because I still think I can do whatever I want physically. Sad truth is, though, that I've put on about 15 pounds since I got to Norfolk, and my current lifestyle does not support my long term health and quality of life. I have long periods of being sedentary. My stress level is high, even for me. I eat well, mostly, when I'm at home, but definitely make the most of having cooks making four meals a day underway. 

• Incorporate more physical activity into my regular routine. Working out for the sake of working out doesn't appeal to me. Riding my bike to the grocery story, paddleboarding over to Masonboro Island, clearing brush and hauling wood -- those are all my kind of calorie burners! 
• Learn to surf! Greg has already offered me lessons :)
• Work on my sugar addiction. I've been not drinking alcohol (except the trace amounts that may be in my kombucha) for nearly six months now, and don't really miss it. I definitely don't have the same success with sugar. I wish I wasn't looking forward to seasonal jelly bean displays here in the next few weeks...

Ok, that's enough for today. I went a little over my allotted hour, but also took a break midway to fold napkins out of the dryer so they'd have a chance at laying flat. 

** Step 3: Ready myself for the Ending by talking (writing) about what is ending -- there is *definitely* a blog post (at least one, maybe more) in this step.

In my next session, I will devote time to Step 2a, with the intention of getting goals down for the rest of my buckets.

Prepping to Start Planning

24 January 2021

I have about six months left with daily responsibilities in the Coast Guard, assuming that VIGOROUS' Change of Command happens in late June/early July as expected. I'm starting to feel like that's close enough to take definitive planning steps -- which, every time I stop to think about what that means, really overwhelms me.

My goal today is to give myself a framework to try to untangle all the threads that are currently swirling around, knotting up my brain. 

I feel like I need to start with my overall goal, or my mission statement. What is important to me as a fundamental guide to who I am and how I want to live my life? I'm fairly sure I've written one down sometime in the last few years, but I'm horrible about picking up whatever random piece of paper or notebook or journal is closest to hand to get the noisiest thoughts out of my head as quickly as possible. I will look for it -- later. Right now, understanding that I want to have my mission statement as my basis of this framework is enough. 

** Step 1: Define (find) my mission statement

One of my mentors recommended actually writing down my top 3-5 goals for a bunch of different buckets, which seems so brilliantly obvious. I have all these different threads rattling around in my head, always crashing into each other. Bucketing them up will help sort them out and reduce the cacophony and chaos. And for many of them, they aren't goals, just random ideas or possibilities that I haven't thought through enough to know if they're goals I want to pursue. Maybe they're just ideas I want to learn more about. I'm actually going to take the time to do that now. Doesn't require me to get up from my chair or step away from my coffee.

** Step 2: Identify my buckets

• Home
• Employment
• Physical Health
• Hobbies/Interests/Life-long Learning
• Finances
• Self Care
• Relationships
• Travel

After listening to me talk about why I thought it was a good time to start working with her again on a regular basis, my coach recommended I look through William Bridges' work on change and transition. His six videos (each less than 5 minutes long) talk about the difference between change and transition, and break down the transition process into three distinct phases. He says change is the distinct and external even that causes us to go through transition (my retiring from active duty), while transition is the process of going through that change (understanding and adapting to what not having that daily responsibility will change how I live my life and think about myself -- what it means to me). Transitions have three phases: the Ending, the Neutral Zone, and New Beginnings. He mostly talks in reference to businesses going through transitions (mergers, acquisitions, etc), but squinting at it a little and cocking my head to the side, I can see how it also applies to this personal situation.

** Step 3: Ready myself for the Ending by talking (writing) about what is ending -- there is *definitely* a blog post (at least one, maybe more) in this step.

Step 4: I think this is a natural pairing with Step 2...maybe 2a, because the Neutral Zone is the temporary phase when new processes and structures are put in place to facilitate the transformation. I won't really be in the Neutral Zone until after Change of Command, when I'm still on active duty, but doing the terminal leave and admin time thing. In the meantime, though, here's my actual step 2a:

** Step 2a: Write down my top 3-5 goals for each bucket identified in Step 2. 

I'm not really going to go into the New Beginnings part here...though as a teaser, Dr Bridges says new energy and commitment take place when the transition is over, not when the change takes place.

** Step 2b: Identify at least one Action Item for each goal. 

I'm clearly channeling the reading I've done on Bullet Journaling and Get Things Done by David Allen in this one...but have seen the value of applying well defined and achievable actions against a goal. 

**Step 4 (for realsies): Commit time to these efforts. Because without scheduling the time for them, they're just good ideas. There -- added to my calendar, one hour every Sunday from 10 am to 11 am, for me to sit down and play with my retirement plans. 

I feel like something is missing here. Not sure exactly where it fits in. But it has to do with some physical acknowledgement of what is happening. Maybe it's Step 3a -- planning my retirement ceremony/party/celebration, and then Step 3b -- planning a celebration or acknowledgement of sorts on 1 October 2021, which is the first day of my actual retirement when I'm no longer on active duty. I've been thinking about what Step 3a looks like for months now -- again, just rattling things around in my head. Time to get them outta my head and into words...but it's really hard with not knowing what's going to happen with the pandemic in six months. Maybe think through a couple different scenarios: best case we can all get together because there aren't any more restrictions on gatherings and worst case we're still limited to gatherings of 25 people. 

** Step 3a1: Put into words what I want my retirement ceremony to look like. And then talk to the Project Officer so he's not stumbling around in the dark, looking for the right rock.

** Step 3a2: Put into words what I want my retirement celebration to look like under best case and worst case COVID scenarios.

** Step 3b: Put into words how I want to celebrate my first day of actual retirement.

** Step 3c: Put action items to each of the scenarios in steps 3a and 3b. 

Well, they're a little outta order as I wrote them. That's okay, though. Now I have a good sense of where to start. 

One last little detail to work out for my framework. How do I know what to do next, when I sit down each Sunday morning (or whenever else I decide to give it some time)? Maybe as I end each session, think about what the next session will start with. 

** Step 4a: "In my next session, I will devote time to..." 

In my next session, I will devote time to Step 2a, with the intention of getting goals down for at least half of my buckets.