"Sailing Blahs"

Today is one of those days where you feel like you would get further ahead if you were to slam your head into a brick wall successively. Where no matter what your efforts, the day just seems destined to be tallied in the “less than enjoyable” column. I am experiencing what I have coined the “sailing blahs.” It seems to be a rather common infliction that each sailor experiences at one time or another during an extended period of land deprivation. Its symptoms may include, but are not limited to, such things as an unexplainable discontent with one’s surroundings and fellow shipmates, difficulty sleeping or accepting one’s menial daily taskings, and loss of appetite or purpose. Sufferers are recognizable by their solemn demeanor and incessant complaining. In some extreme cases, infected individuals may be overcome by rage, the need to inflict pain on others, or uncontrollable sobbing. It is a strange experience, really. I think it is perhaps the closest my male counterparts will ever come to understanding the plight of a hormonal female. The shame of it is, the day started off with a collection of warm fuzzies. I had received a couple of kind words of encouragement from anonymous Moms of Sailors who have read my entries. I was feeling particularly optimistic and was eager to start on my next writing project when I encountered the last unopened email. There is no delicate way to say this, so I’m just going to say it: “I’m being CENSORED!” A senior member of the crew had read my Blog, shared that he enjoyed it, but reminded that I need to be very careful with what I tell the “world.” True, very true. However, I couldn’t help but be spun off course spinning towards an ugly, ill-fated destination. It felt like my one chance to write, my form of therapy, was being mutilated and stifled. That I could no longer paint a believable picture to all of you, for fear that what I wrote might be misconstrued in a plethora of possible interpretations. This left me to wonder, whose responsibility is that really? I have faith that the people who chose to read this will take it for face value – cause honestly, there isn’t much to pick up on between the lines, save what kind of a mood I was in when I typed it out… which, in case you were curious, is in a perpetual state of Gravol induced euphoria (me and sea states above one don’t see eye to eye). This might also explain the misuse of words or their spelling at times. My desire is to portray what life during this trip is like through my eyes and senses. It may not be the most interesting of accounts, but unfortunately, sailing isn’t always exciting – it’s mostly just a whole lot of waiting and if you’ve ever seen the movie “Groundhog Day” then you get the picture. The point is that I will continue to try to give you the stories without incriminating anyone or giving away all our “secrets” – not that I am privy to them anyway. I have calmed down since this morning… thanks to the sound of the keys clicking beneath my anxious fingers. I have decided to take the advice as a friendly reminder (as I am sure it was originally intended) and continue to write how I feel and what occurs during these next few months. Thank you for listening. Hopefully things will be brighter tomorrow :)