Friday, September 07, 2007

Pittstown Point, Crooked Island, Bahamas

0 nm
Wind: SW 10-15 knots

Our stress level seems to be increasing, and I can’t figure out why. There’s one thing that I’m beginning to understand--that old adage about men in glass houses. I feel like we’re living in one now. We are, for all intensive purposes, a giant glass house, with neighbors on either side peering in. Not to mention the scrutiny of the Bahamian community. We’re trying to do everything right, and from the outside it looks like we’re doing everything wrong. I try to go with my cognition rather than my emotional response, but it’s so difficult. I’m far too concerned with the vagaries of public opinion.

Today, a couple of times, I found myself close to tears, for no reason I can pinpoint. Maybe it’s just having been stationary for the longest period since Daytona Beach, a time when I was also profoundly depressed. I can’t believe my wanderlust has gotten that bad, where if I stay still for longer than a month, severe depression sets in. That’s ridiculous. It’s like an addiction, and if it keeps going like this, by the time I hit forty I won’t be able to stay in one place for longer than a day. By the time I hit sixty, I’ll have to keep moving every hour. Like a hummingbird. What is it they say about sharks? If they stop moving, they die?

It’s just the stress of not being able to be perfectly honest with everyone, I think. I hate it. The more of the Bible we read together, the more I desire to live a Christ-like life, which means complete honesty at all times. But if that honesty hurts other people, namely the people we care about the most, who have helped us the most? Like Nappy? That’s the tension we’re living with right now. No wonder there’s so much stress.

So I dealt with it by getting angry with poor Karl, who’s just working hard, ignoring the tension, and not talking about any of it. I do think I’m not spending enough time on the boat. I went back today for several hours to find the flies all dead and maggots in my cumin. Still, I was able to get a lot done, including cooking food we can eat at the house and writing a bunch of emails and scraping the bottom, which took a lot of effort. I think our mask and snorket set are shot, though, from sitting out in the sun too often. Another triumph, but another frustration. Life in a nutshell.

It was still great to be out there, even with the west swell hitting the bow and the maggots and the week-old dirty dishes I wasn’t brave enough to do, which is saying something. No matter how much we let it go, the boat is our home now, and if I stay away too long I get miserable. I need to make an effort to be out there more consistently. My job right now is supposed to be writing. I just thought I would end up with a better studio--one that doesn’t move. And it’s hard to not be jealous of Karl when I’m out there, even though I know he’s working too. He gets ice water and iced coffee and a microwave and refrigerated food and running water and a toilet that flushes. All those things add up to a lot of creature comforts during the workaday world. For me to sit out there and be creative at the same time that all of my boat work is gnawing at me is not easy.

All these are just excuses, I know. Excuses, excuses. The bull needs to be taken by the horns. The only solution is to be strong enough to just do it.

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