Welcome to My Boat


I must admit:

That I have listened to this song

perhaps 1,000 times on repeat. It’s not even that it is saying anything in particular that’s comforting to my life circumstances right now, but something about the tempo and repetition are very soothing. Also I do this every time I discover a new song I like. I have to listen to it over and over and over again until I borderline hate it and want to vomit from hearing it. I think I have slight psychotic tendencies.

And I crumpled in the shower last night in a crouched yoga-esque position and cried. I watched the mascara drop off my eyelashes in blackened wet stars. I fixated on those black stars. I watched them one after another form into a supernova. That distracted me, the explosions of black bursts, merging and then dissipating on the shower floor. The shower that doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to my cousin, Heather who has so graciously adopted me in my time of interim running away.

Every time I am in my car, I want to keep going. I want to overdraw my checking account 17 times over gunning it to the West—my holy land. But then I realize the contents of my car, which include about a dozen throw pillows, half of my board game collection, an assortment of novels, one sports bra, a pair of workout pants and mismatched socks, my friend Ryan’s bulky yet incredibly warm winter boots and snowshoes, a puffy vest and a few unpaid bills would not exactly be conducive to my starting life over as a pioneer. Or maybe these things are the best parcels of change, because I am past giving a damn. However, I have a real complex with letting people down regarding my commitments. And my fear of a deeply overdrawn checking account scares me out of actually doing it.

It’s the fear—which really speaks to a lack of faith—that is really getting to me right now. I remember before I broke up with my ex having a similar conversation about the fear with my sister. I shook with it and expressed my concerns of what if… What if I gave up this love and never got another… What if? My sister said it was that fear and that uncertainty which was giving me pause. She posed this question, “If you knew without a doubt that your person, your right person was out there and ready for you, would you take the leap? Would you leave?” I answered immediately with a yes. And that was my answer. Moving forward in faith, knowing that maybe I was giving up on a love and maybe there wouldn’t be another, but… but my ever hopeful spirit and my ever loving God led me to believe that I wasn’t making a mistake and love would find me again when it was good and ready.

I am more than manic and riddled with anxiety right now. I find myself wanting to do unspeakably grim things (not off myself, cool your jets, my life isn’t that bad. No just maybe drink heavily or find an opium den) that belie the level of self-love and self-respect I have acquired with years of practice. Don’t fret, though. I only dabble in those thoughts, I can’t act on them, because I have too much moral conviction. Sometimes my mom likes to claim she dropped the ball on raising us right because I had premarital sex with both my ex-boyfriends (I would not take it back, even with my first ex who was not a nice guy, because it made me who I am today, so cheers to mistakes, man) but clearly, she didn’t drop the ball because if I were a different kind of girl I would be mixing Xanax and whiskey right now and having loads of scandalous sex to cope with my existential crisis. However, what I did instead was eat a McDonald’s double cheeseburger and feel sufficiently lousy that I am mildly poisoning my insides and then went to Barnes and Noble and picked up a slew of books with titles like, You’re Loved No Matter What and Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace and Jesus I Need You, and A Year With C.S. Lewis. So, dropped the ball, my arse, mom.

Writing candidly about how I want to cope with mindless sex and whiskey and how I cry in the shower and how somehow despite my mass uncertainty and fear I do still love myself and God deeply enough to not go wildly off the deep end, well it makes me feel a whole bunch better. And I hope if you are having even a fraction of a crisis right now you feel better that you cannot possible be the only one in this boat. Welcome to my boat. There is room for you in here. And because my life has offered me up some turbulent seas as of late, well, I like to think I am a pretty good sailor.