I never had a story to tell. I always dreamed of becoming a writer but when I thought through that romantic idea of holing up in a cabin in the woods to put myself to work, I couldn’t imagine any words that would touch the pages. I’d had no hardships. I’d hardly even had love. My parents are still married. I’ve never lost someone close to me to death. I have two brothers with whom my relationship is healthy, though maybe it wasn’t always that way. I’m from a middle class white family and grew up in a small town where nothing was scary. I’ve got a good job and I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. I’ve had a safe little life. And a life like that doesn’t come with a good story.
I always felt that people really craved the tale of overcoming obstacles and beating the odds— the literary equivalent of jumping from airplanes or popping a bottle of Dom Perignon from a French rooftop. So if I did not have a story like that, maybe mine would be about love? I’ve had love come and go, but heartache is the stuff of pop songs. A love story for the pages cannot be about about a boy… so I asked myself constantly: What do I love?
I love my friends and traveling and dancing and being in water and eating good food and staying up late and growing plants. But none of these equated to passion; and isn’t passion what we all crave? We all want to find that thing that gets us up every morning and fills our thoughts when we aren’t able to do it. We all want to believe there is something out there for us and if we’re lucky enough to find it, life will start to make a little more sense and feel a little more whole. I was looking for that thing and I was looking in the wrong places. Then one day I suddenly woke up single, struggling to remember how to live life on my own, wondering if I would ever again feel like I was worth a damn, wondering if anyone would ever believe in me enough to take a chance on me. And then someone did.
After getting dumped I asked myself what I could do to not only distract myself, but give me something to live for again. And I decided I wanted to pursue sailing. I’d taken a handful of lessons a few years ago, but being the end of the summer, I didn’t try too hard to get myself on any boats when the lessons ended. Quickly that adventure became a fun memory from a summer past; something I’d tried once but moved on from easily. I’ve never been good at the follow through. I have lots of ideas, but rarely do they become realities.
Except this one never totally died in me. At one point in the last few years, I joined a sailing MeetUp group and continued to receive email invitations to go sailing with strangers, though I never took any of them up. I think it was a fantasy that I would become a sailor. Something I could dream of but that no one really ever expected me to do—including myself. I didn’t know any sailors. I knew no one with boats. It was a fun idea that never became a reality, like most things in my life.
But this time around was different. I needed something that was mine. So I decided to make it happen. I reached out to a fairly new friend that sailed who immediately jumped at the chance to help get me on a boat. And quickly I found myself meeting up with her boyfriend, who I’d never met, and following him to a sailboat on a Thursday night to join a race. He introduced me to the crew and I awkwardly explained that I’d sailed before but it had been a long time and I didn’t really know what to do. My friend Katherine wasn’t there that night, so essentially I was a complete stranger who knew almost nothing about sailing.
The reality was that I was nothing more than dead weight. I felt in the way all the time and I was nervous the whole time just hoping the Skipper liked me. I didn’t know the term rail meat at the time, but I knew immediately that I didn’t feel useful. Despite this insecurity, I had the most amazing time. I watched this group of people play their parts to move this boat to the first of many wins I would participate in. They laughed and drank beers and told disgusting jokes and I instantly felt like I fit right in. I knew that I had to make every effort to get myself back on this boat. And I wanted more than anything to prove myself to this team—and to this Skipper.
I left that night not knowing if I would be back. I left hoping like hell that this would not be another thing I tried and then moved on from. I left and told the Skipper I’d love to come back but I understood if i was slowing the boat down and he didn’t want the extra weight. And instead of saying “you’re right, you’re not a great addition to the crew, you fucking newbie” he said “come back next week.” And I did.
That was two months ago. Today I spent the day on my own sailboat. I was given the opportunity to lease a boat for the next four months with a few other women. Me, a girl who was brand new to the sailing community and almost completely unconnected, has a boat. I’m still a newbie. I’m still learning. But this is the boldest thing I’ve ever done.
It’s the first time in my life I’ve said yes to something big. It is the first time I’ve manifested something in this anxiety-ridden head and turned it into an opportunity. I am learning that lesson that people like Oprah are always trying to teach: you have control of your future. You have the power to change your life. You can be whatever you want to be. Even if it’s a sailor.
I always felt that people really craved the tale of overcoming obstacles and beating the odds— the literary equivalent of jumping from airplanes or popping a bottle of Dom Perignon from a French rooftop. So if I did not have a story like that, maybe mine would be about love? I’ve had love come and go, but heartache is the stuff of pop songs. A love story for the pages cannot be about about a boy… so I asked myself constantly: What do I love?
I love my friends and traveling and dancing and being in water and eating good food and staying up late and growing plants. But none of these equated to passion; and isn’t passion what we all crave? We all want to find that thing that gets us up every morning and fills our thoughts when we aren’t able to do it. We all want to believe there is something out there for us and if we’re lucky enough to find it, life will start to make a little more sense and feel a little more whole. I was looking for that thing and I was looking in the wrong places. Then one day I suddenly woke up single, struggling to remember how to live life on my own, wondering if I would ever again feel like I was worth a damn, wondering if anyone would ever believe in me enough to take a chance on me. And then someone did.
After getting dumped I asked myself what I could do to not only distract myself, but give me something to live for again. And I decided I wanted to pursue sailing. I’d taken a handful of lessons a few years ago, but being the end of the summer, I didn’t try too hard to get myself on any boats when the lessons ended. Quickly that adventure became a fun memory from a summer past; something I’d tried once but moved on from easily. I’ve never been good at the follow through. I have lots of ideas, but rarely do they become realities.
Except this one never totally died in me. At one point in the last few years, I joined a sailing MeetUp group and continued to receive email invitations to go sailing with strangers, though I never took any of them up. I think it was a fantasy that I would become a sailor. Something I could dream of but that no one really ever expected me to do—including myself. I didn’t know any sailors. I knew no one with boats. It was a fun idea that never became a reality, like most things in my life.
But this time around was different. I needed something that was mine. So I decided to make it happen. I reached out to a fairly new friend that sailed who immediately jumped at the chance to help get me on a boat. And quickly I found myself meeting up with her boyfriend, who I’d never met, and following him to a sailboat on a Thursday night to join a race. He introduced me to the crew and I awkwardly explained that I’d sailed before but it had been a long time and I didn’t really know what to do. My friend Katherine wasn’t there that night, so essentially I was a complete stranger who knew almost nothing about sailing.
The reality was that I was nothing more than dead weight. I felt in the way all the time and I was nervous the whole time just hoping the Skipper liked me. I didn’t know the term rail meat at the time, but I knew immediately that I didn’t feel useful. Despite this insecurity, I had the most amazing time. I watched this group of people play their parts to move this boat to the first of many wins I would participate in. They laughed and drank beers and told disgusting jokes and I instantly felt like I fit right in. I knew that I had to make every effort to get myself back on this boat. And I wanted more than anything to prove myself to this team—and to this Skipper.
I left that night not knowing if I would be back. I left hoping like hell that this would not be another thing I tried and then moved on from. I left and told the Skipper I’d love to come back but I understood if i was slowing the boat down and he didn’t want the extra weight. And instead of saying “you’re right, you’re not a great addition to the crew, you fucking newbie” he said “come back next week.” And I did.
That was two months ago. Today I spent the day on my own sailboat. I was given the opportunity to lease a boat for the next four months with a few other women. Me, a girl who was brand new to the sailing community and almost completely unconnected, has a boat. I’m still a newbie. I’m still learning. But this is the boldest thing I’ve ever done.
It’s the first time in my life I’ve said yes to something big. It is the first time I’ve manifested something in this anxiety-ridden head and turned it into an opportunity. I am learning that lesson that people like Oprah are always trying to teach: you have control of your future. You have the power to change your life. You can be whatever you want to be. Even if it’s a sailor.
