Newsflash: Our Kids are Not as Perfect as they Seem on Instagram

I had had it up to HERE with my kids. It was 4:30pm, I had played referee, broken up fights, dealt with unruly tantrums, yelled at the top of my lungs, cooked two dinners, cleaned the boat over and over and over again, picked up toys, broken up more fights... and I. Was. Done. I walked down the dock with two girls happily running ahead of me and one lagging behind and I had defeat written all over face and body. I was tired, I was angry, I desperately wanted a break... A nice man stopped to politely let Mira pass (the lagger behinder of our posse), at which point she scowled at him, planted her feet firmly on the pavement, crossed her arms and yelled, "NO!" Aren't they charming, I thought? I looked up to the sky in frustration. Why are my kids such jerks sometimes!?! Sigh. "I'm sorry," I told the gentleman wearily, "She is a stubborn little child." I stood, waiting for Mira and as the man passed me he said casually, "She doesn't seem stubborn on your blog..."

I wasn't quite sure how to take the comment as there was no follow up conversation after that, I believe more than anything it was an honest observation. But it got me to thinking, "She doesn't seem stubborn on my blog but...isn't it understood that my kids are ages four and two and, at the end of the day, normal kids with 'asshole tendencies'?" (Yes, I'm sorry to swear but toddlers definitely can have asshole tendencies and if yours do not, well...congratulations). After some thought I came to the conclusion that maybe based on our Facebook and Instagram accounts, our pretty pictures and sweet updates of our goings-ons, people really did think our life and kids are perfect and, well, I am here to tell you loud and clear: OUR LIFE AND KIDS ARE NOT PERFECT.

***

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for our life and I love our kids more than I can possibly articulate, but should you ever meet them, you must remember that what I share in photos and blogs are snippets of time, and - yes - mostly happy times (of which there are many!) but do not expect them to be adorable little robot children who will run when you call and hug when you bend down to greet them. I mean, sometimes they do that, and sometimes they are absolute angels...but sometimes Haven will look you straight in the eye when you give her a friendly "Hello!" and say, "I. Don't. Like. You" with clipped, perfect articulation just to drive the point home. Sometimes Mira will stick her tongue out you as you wave to her and Isla might just have a little "diva" moment if you ask for a high-five. Believe me, we are working on squishing these bad habits (behavior charts for the win!) but in the meantime, understand that our girls are not always happy, smiling, perfect creatures doing adorable things in beautiful locations. PLEASE do not be fooled into thinking that our girls are any different than other kids simply because we live on a boat in the islands. For example, I have Googled the following over the last few weeks: "Am I screwing up my kids?" "Are my kids jerks?" "How to deal with a "spirited" child?" (Good LORD how do you deal with a spirited child!?!) "Do I yell too much?" and "Tactics of the Super Nanny" No real conclusions have been reached based on these rather futile searches, but what I did discover during these forays into the interwebs was a bunch of other moms on the same page as I; confused, a little lost and worrying that we might be dropping the ball.

But we are not dropping the ball, and I know that. We're doing a lot of stuff right and we're doing some stuff wrong. It's inevitable. This is parenting and nobody, NOBODY gets it right all the time. I have my mommy strengths; an extremely affectionate nature, very patient (to a point), and an instinctual aversion to helicoptering (to name a few)...and I have my parental weaknesses: a temper, a need to 'control', and an almost OCD-like need for order (kind of hard with three tots!). These traits (along with many more from both Scott and me) will play out in our children's lives in one way or another. Some will have positive consequences, some will have negative consequences some will just be. Our parents screwed things up, their parents screwed things up before them and our great-grandparents before that... the cycle goes back to the beginning of time. But with every generation, we learn, we tweak, we change tacks and do our best. We do our best. We have all turned out okay (well, most of us anyway) and our kids (most likely) will follow suit and do the same. They will not be perfect, but they will be okay.

***

Social media in a lot of ways is a wonderful thing; it's brought me a tremendous amount of satisfaction, joy, friendship and community to my life. But there is a yin to the yang and I think the one-sided nature of it is part of that. We share the prettiest pics, the happiest times and everyone's life looks pretty damn awesome. But the truth is, no one knows what is really going on behind the curtain and things are not always what they seem. We have our struggles just like anyone else. They might not be the same struggles you have, but there are bumps in the road none the less. Our marriage is far from perfect (have your read about the divorce rate for parents of twins? YIKES!), Scott has very little work/life balance, we run a business that is constantly eating away at family time (there's no such thing as time "off" when you own a biz), we live a very public life that can be open to scrutiny (both outspoken and covert) and we have three children ages four and under. Two of them are two year old twins. (It. Is. Intense). It's not easy and it is a lot of work. But along with all that are all the positives. We own our own business. We live on a gorgeous tropical island. We just bought a beautiful new boat. We have three healthy children who are the loves of our lives. We have wonderful friends. We have a loving family. We meet interesting people every single day. Our girls have a wonderful, adoring community around them. We spend 90% of our awake time outside, in nature. We have so, so, so much....We are very lucky. When I am sharing our happy moments, I am just that: Happy. I am grateful and it's my nature to see the positive in things in life rather than dwell on the negative. But there is negative, make no mistake. Just because you don't see it, does not mean it's absent.

***

So when you scroll through our blog and our Instagram account, or when you toggle through my Facebook posts, please remember: we might not be in the exact same boat, but in one way shape or form, we are all in the same boat, somehow, someway, it all evens out in the wash. Where you might thrive, I might struggle. Where I struggle you might thrive. And it might not be so obvious based on the tiny percentage of our life that I share. So if and when you meet our (adorable, spirited, slightly feral, strong-willed, beautiful, wild and precocious) little girls and they are less than charming to you, my sincerest apologies. And if you meet them and they are the wonderful little creatures I prefer to highlight and chronicle every day, know you caught us on a good day.

A Foot in Both Worlds

As our time back on land comes to a close (how did two months go by that fast?) I am constantly asked the question, "Aren't you *so* glad to leave and go back?" It's hard to answer that because - for the last four years or so - Scott and I have remained, more or less, tethered to land. After a year and a half of solo cruising, we came home to have Isla and moved to Florida for six months after that to refit our boat. We then set sail only to return home a little over a year later to give birth to our (surprise!) twins. Two infants at once, as you can probably imagine, was a real game changer and we lived with my parents for a year while we adjusted to live as an insta-family of five. We were, for all intents and purposes, land-lubbers and, for us, it was the only way to be during that (incredibly difficult) season of our lives. We then began the process of buying a business on Tortola which dictated that we move off island for six months while the deal went through, and from now forward, as official "expats", we plan to come back for visits at least once a year to see family and friends and "get off the rock", as it were.

Land life is simply part of our life, and we are grateful for it.

So am I glad to leave? No. This visit has been amazing. Scott and I got away - alone, together - for the first time in four years to attend one of my best friend's weddings in Santa Barbara where (cough cough) Gweneth Paltrow (among others!!) was a fellow guest (my friend is a very successful Hollywood writer and, no, I did not meet her but could have touched her a couple times!), Scott got to spend some quality time with his brother on a motorcycle trip riding "the tail of the dragon" in Tennessee, we spent a positively beautiful week in Northern Michigan with most of Scott's family, the girls and I had countless playdates with wonderful neighborhood kids and kindred spirit mom friends, we got to see all of my immediate family and their families'...there were bonfires, play parks, museum visits and sleepovers...dinners out, talks over wine and spirit-lifting hang-outs with old friends...the list goes on. It was wonderful and went by too fast, and it's precisely why we keep coming back - because there is so very much here for us.

So, no, I'm not "glad" to leave ( though I am happy to be escaping winter!) - it is, in fact, a bit sad. We have a wonderful life up here filled with family, friends and - oh man - the general convenience of the 'burbs cannot be beat. But are we happy to go back to our little boat and little island? You betcha.

***

You see, by having one foot in both worlds, we are offered a unique perspective and one that helps us to appreciate the other world. I've always been one to caution the notion that there is any one single way to live that is better than another (i.e. land life vs. island life vs. cruising) because the fact of the matter is this: it's completely subjective and while many people love the above lifestyles, just as many do not. My best friend in the whole wide world came to visit us last season and one night, as we were sipping rum cocktails gazing out as the sun set over the water she said, "Britt...I totally get why you live here. This place is amazing and it is so totally you. You are clearly in your element. But me? No. This wouldn't work for me." It was not an insult and I was in no way offended.  I completely agreed with her because a) I know her better than I know anybody and, no, it is definitely not her jam and b) I know that our slightly alternative lifestyle is not a one size fits all kind of existence.

On the flip side, how she feels about island/live-aboard life is precisely how I feel about a more traditional, suburban/city life. I appreciate the convenience, the plethora of things to do, the accessibility to great restaurants and shows and of course the proximity to friends and family...but for now, it's just not for us.

And yet, we have an amazing thing up here. We have my family here and Scott's family just day's drive over in Michigan (seriously, the most underrated state in the lower 50 in my opinion. So. Damn. Beautiful.) and we get to spend time with them when we visit, exploring the woods, the shores of fresh water lakes, and - in general - living our days outside in the fresh air. Our girls have a slew of aunts and uncles who adore them and cousins on both sides whom they consider their best friends - these kinds of bonds are the very reason we keep a tether to shore. I have an incredible group of friends - some of whom I have known since I was five - who, despite our distance and once-a-year visits, are truly some of the most incredible people in the world and fill my life, heart and soul with love and joy...My girls adore their grandparents, they love our neighbors, and the relationships they have with these people are important to us. It's a pleasure to be here, not a burden.

We have the same level of appreciation, however, for our little island life. While the roots we have planted are new, we have begun to develop a great and very fulfilling existence. Our business is thriving and exciting to us. We absolutely love our "neighborhood" and cross-cultural community at Nanny Cay, the seeds for great friendships have been planted and are being sowed, the girls thrive like the wild little (often naked) bush children they are and I really love the slower and simpler pace of day to day living. Everything feels a little less rushed, everyone has a little more time and I like that. Our choices for everything from what to do to what to eat are most definitely limited compared to what is available up here, but what we do get is constant and close access to jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring natural beauty day in and day out and that, to me, is priceless. The water, specifically, is truly a salve to my soul and, man, I'm excited to get back and dip my toes into it. I need it..

***

There are also some very exciting changes on the horizon that if you follow our >>Facebook Page<< you already know... Scott was only back for a short while during this trip (we kept our business running year round this year) but his visit allowed us a quick trip to the East Coast to do some boat shopping. Yep, you read that correctly: boat shopping. Scott and I had a sort of "come to Jesus" type talk and decided that we needed a bigger boat sooner than later. Long story short: I am more than excited to announce that we are under contract with a 48 foot three cabin cutter-rigged monohull (more details soon, I promise!) and the boat goes to survey the day after the girls and I return to Tortola. To say we are excited about this new development is a massive understatement, but - like I said - the hows and why's of all this require a whole separate blog post and, until the boat passes survey (which it should) we aren't counting any chickens. Patience, please.

Another amazing change we will be coming back to is the fact that all three girls will attend a little pre-school three half-days a week. While I have been home with all of them as their major care-taker 24/7 for the last four and a half years, the time has come to give myself a little break - not to mention the fact the girls are literally begging me to send them to school. Again, there is a whole post here and I'll delve more into why we made this decision a little later. Suffice it to say, we did a lot of research, talked to a lot of people and decided that at this juncture of our lives - this will be best for everybody. We are all super stoked.

This trip home has been a fantastic "factory reset" - and while we are sad to say "goodbye" - there is so much to look forward to. While having a "foot in both worlds" might, to some, seem non-committal or even limiting, to us it feels like a huge gift and makes life a little sweeter.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have packing to do and lists to make! We are island bound in t-minus three days!

(and here is where I barrage you with a completely random assortment of photos of our visit! I tried as best I could to cut down from the 2K I took, but it was not easy!)

To all our friends and family who made this visit so great, we thank you! To those of you who we adore with all our hearts yet could not see this time around, we are sorry and we'll catch you next time! xoxo

Hello from the Other Side...My Musings On Truth Telling

L.O.V.E

Hello?

It's me...

I've been wondering if after all this time you'd like to meet?

***

My gosh, I have been dying to write for weeks and weeks (how many has it been, exactly? Ugh) and as you may or may not know, writing (or, more specifically sharing) is almost compulsive for me and as essential as water or food to my mental well-being. 

In short, sharing is a salve to my soul.

So, while I have nothing particular to say, enough was enough and I decided, "Well, I will just write what I am thinking at the moment..."

So here I am.

***

When I am not chasing our very cute, very loud, and very exuberant brood or wasting exorbitant amounts of time on Facebook (Don't judge! Sometimes I want to just veg-out, chat with my girlfriends, look at pictures depicting impossibly perfect lives and read articles that either support or negate what a great mom I am...etc etc), I read...books. If there is one thing that inspires me, it is a really good writer. I read every night before bed (unless I hit the wine too hard, which - let's be honest - has been known to happen) and I polish off about two books a month this way.  I just finished most of the the works of Pat Conroy (wow), and have since delved into The Nest but, two nights ago, in a last ditch effort to find inspiration and creativity in what has become something of a slump, I started "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert. Sigh. The Queen of the truth tellers. These people, another of which is the equally inspiring Glennon Doyle (of Momestary fame), are the ones who speak scary truths with incredible bravery and transparency about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. These are the kind of people who I like to associate with, the kinds who inspire me to no end. The kind of person I want to be.

I've been thinking a lot about truth-telling for a number of reasons (it seems to be all around me in some way, shape or form) and how amazing it is; not only is it incredibly freeing it's the very thing most people want. Truth-telling breeds connections which grow deep friendships. Raw honesty is what sows the seeds which feed communities. An open heart is what allows for metamorphosis. And yet, truth-telling and being completely honest with ourselves and others is often the hardest thing to do. Believe me, I know.

But I digress...

If I a) know you b) like you and c) trust you (it's a gut/experience thing) - you will attest to the fact that I am 100% honest. Not in a judgey, "I'll tell you what no one else will" kind of way, but in the way that I will share with you my experiences with raw, honest, grittiness ("Oh, yeah. When my twins were born I 100% understood why and how some woman could drive a van into an ocean...") and you will feel less alone because YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THOUGHT THAT. It's amazing to me how, when I am being honest with people - even strangers ("Man, I really wish I was a lesbian sometimes because today I really hate my husband...") - I can see a relief wash over them. It's like, "(Sigh) We don't need to do the pretend bullshit thing here and it is SO refreshing." It's why I know the deepest and darkest secrets of many friends (new and old), it's why a mom I meet in passing at the park becomes a dear friend, it's why my girlfriends and I are such a great tribe - we are honest and real with one another without judgement or jealousy, we shower one another in love and support. We have each other's backs in the biggest way and it's the way it should be.

***

It's easy for me to be a truth-teller in person among people who I trust and who share back with me (like anything, it's a two-way street). Where it get's tricky is here, on the world wide web where my audience is no longer a fellow sister who I am commiserating with, but thousands of faceless strangers who I do not know. I have been applauded before for being very open and honest about the good, bad and ugly of the cruising life and and I think more people are starting to follow suit... But there's always room for more honesty, more truth, more sharing and less judging and I am on a mission to be even more present and candid in what I write and say. I am working on living this truth myself and, believe me, it's not easy and - sometimes - really scary. None of us are perfect, in fact our flaws and struggles are what make us the most relatable, so why not expose them so that others can help us heal and so we may help another not feel so alone? It's really so simple. And yet...so hard. Because: FEAR.

Striving for truth means solidarity with the people who will make us better. The person who look at my kids in horror when they throw tantrum in a store, as opposed to the one who looks at me with eyes that say, "I FEEL YOU", is not the kind of person I want in my life anyway, so why aim to please that person? I want to seek out the fist-bumpers of the world and the people who truly understand that our greatest strength lies in true connection and togetherness. None of us can please everyone, and as hard as that can be sometimes, it is the way it is. In the infamous words of Taylor Swift, "Haters gonna hate". 

***

I have recently had several people meet me (via this blog) and tell me that my life (or the one I portray, anyway) looks a) pretty perfect,  b) that I look like such a great mom, c) that my marriage looks idyllic and d) our children seem so well-behaved. These things, while not lies, per-say, are not 100% accurate. Sure, we have some pretty awesome moments (and these are what are predominately shared on Facebook and on this blog) but they are only a small snippet of the picture. Please let me address these misconceptions lest you think the same:

a) On being perfect: Rest assured, if something looks "perfect" it most definitely is not. 'Nough said.
b) On being a super mom: I think I'm a pretty good to pretty great mom most of the time, but just the other night I lost my shit on my four year old so bad we both started crying. Momming is haaaaard.
c) On having an idyllic marriage: HAHAHAHAHA! (Excuse me while I wipe tears of laughter...) Oh, marriage. No. Just, no. Working on SO much here. There is love and there is good, but there is work and struggle and I have wanted to call it quits MANY times. Any marriage that calls itself perfect is either a lie or between two unicorns.
d) On our well-behaved children: Our girls are smart, adorable and the loves of our lives, no question about that. But they, too, are far from perfect. Just today I had to drag Haven out of TJ max because she was throwing a fit of such epic proportions I was afraid they were going to call the cops to intervene (you have never heard a scream until you have heard our Haven's). Spirited? Yes. Perfect? Nope. They fight, they scream, they back-talk and they melt down just like any other kid. And that is okay because it is normal.

So (wiping hands together) that is my little bit of truth for today.

And this is my goal. To become more of a truth-teller. To write more regularly. To cover more topics. To see where it takes me...

***

Anyway, it's naptime right now and I may or may not have had some sauvignon blanc so this could very well be a wined-up missive from the very sleep depraved hinterland of my brain, but maybe just maybe I am on to something here.

Either way, HELLO FROM THE OTHER SIDE! I have missed you. There is more to come (but, lets be honest, probably not anytime soon.)

Raising Kids: It Takes a Village. Not a Call to the Police.

"Mommakong" original artwork by Chelsea Stephen Illustration

I suppose that living on a sailboat in the Caribbean with my husband and our three small children indicates I have a slightly different take on "risk" than most. That said, I consider myself a pretty good mom. Like all parents I tend to swing the pendulum... At a baseline my kids are bathed, fed, clothed, hugged, kissed, entertained, and know they are loved tremendously. On my really, really good days, I think I'm above average, maybe even a "super mom." On my really, really bad days, I try to calculate how much therapy will un-do the screwing up I have inevitably done. Most days, I live somewhere in the middle. However, the day the cops were called on me for what another parent viewed as neglect? That day I felt pretty damn crappy.

***

Let me preface this by saying I am, by my own choice and innate instincts, a pretty "laid back" mom. Some call it 'free range' others call it irresponsible. I call it 'parenting without instilling fear.' I do not operate on the assumption that everything and everyone is out to get my kids. And while I know that the world can be a scary place, I make a very conscious choice not to to put fear in the driver's seat of my life. Turns out, I parent this way as well. I'm the mom at the park sitting contentedly on a bench while my eighteen-month old twins climb an apparatus deemed "above" their age limit. I'm the mom at the library thumbing through books to read later to my girls while the three of them run amok in different play areas. I give them a wide berth to explore this world and intervene when I see something I think is too dangerous.  While I believe this makes me the polar opposite of a "helicopter" parent, I certainly don't think it classifies me as a neglectful one.

***

I was scheduled to take all three girls to the pediatrician for shots while my husband was out of town and realized we were out of ibuprofen right before leaving. Not good. Any mom of multiples will tell you that staying one step ahead of the game is key to survival: not only would ibuprofen help take the edge off the pain of the shots (each twin was getting three), but we always like to have it on hand in case of a fever spike (not uncommon when you have three kids three and under.) Without this kind of forethought, it's too easy for chaos to reign (and believe me, chaos reigns from time to time.) It was 10:50 am. Our appointment was scheduled for 11:15. We’d finish no sooner than 11:50. Lunch time at 12:00. Nap at 12:30. When - and how - would I be able to stop at a drugstore while alone with three very active toddlers?

I hopped in the car after wrangling all three girls into their seats (not an easy feat) and was on my way. I had 15 minutes to pick up my aunt who kindly offered to help me with the girls during their appointment and get to the doctor. I made the quick decision to stop on the way at my local Walgreens because waiting until after the appointment risked pushing past lunchtime with very cranky, sore and hungry kids. Not the best time for errand-running.

I pulled the car into a parking spot right in front of the pharmacy doors and quickly weighed my options, keeping in mind we had 15 minutes till 'go' time: Option 1: Wrangle all girls into the store, with no stroller or baby carriers, and try to contain them as I shuffled to the medicine aisle. My (easily) 10 minute option. Option 2: Put the car in park, crack the windows, lock the doors and run in to grab the medicine by myself. My (easily) two minute option.

I chose Option 2. THE HORROR!

I gave the girls a big smile, told them I loved them, reminded them to be good and ran into the store. I know the layout well considering our home is mere blocks away. I ran right to the aisle for the meds and grabbed a few cheese sticks from the refrigerator on my way back down (in case our appointment ran late and the girls needed something more substantial than Cheerios.) Just as I turned the corner to check out, the clerk pointed at me with wide eyes and announced, "THERE SHE IS!"

I knew immediately what was coming.

"What's going on?" I asked as I picked up my pace.

"Those are your kids in the car, right?" she questioned. "The police are on their way. That lady out there called the cops. You can't leave your kids in the car" she said, shaking her head in disbelief as I ran past her.

I dropped my basket and ran outside. My heart was racing. I quickly came face to face with a squat middle aged woman who had an attitude to share and a cross to bear.

"Are those your kids? You can't leave your kids in the car!" she said as she lumbered toward me, he husband meekly lurking behind her. "I called the police" she shrugged with a smirk.

"Are you SERIOUS?" I said, struggling for words, trying to assess whether or not she was bluffing while I fumbled for my keys, "I'm alone with three small kids, we have a doctor's appointment in ten minutes...I was getting them MEDICINE. I was in there for less than TWO MINUTES..." I stammered off and hoofed it over to my car.

"Well, I had *four* kids and I *never* left them alone in the car," she yelled after me matter of factly with an air of superiority, really punctuating 'four' and 'never'. I shook my head in disgust and hopped in the driver's seat. I turned around and looked at my three happy girls entertaining themselves - luckily with no idea what was going on.

I started the car. If she truly had called the cops, they were going to have to have to come and find me. I wasn't going to wait around when it would mean missing the coveted (and very difficult to acquire) twin vaccination appointment with our favorite pediatrician. I put the car in gear and drove off with my heart racing.

***

I know that leaving kids in cars is a big hot topic these days. We’ve all read the worst of the stories whether accidental or due to misguided parenting.

But this was not that scenario. Or maybe I've spent too much time in the Caribbean where parents are more relaxed and where I have carted my kids around in the back of pick-up trucks and other such atrocities.

I had assessed the situation and calculated my risk before I'd made my move: The car was off with no keys. The girls were secure in their car seats. It was a comfortable 70 degrees outside. The windows were cracked. The doors were locked. No small toys or snacks in arm’s reach. Happy attitudes. No tears. What could go wrong?

Sure, an axe wielding madman could bash open a window and maybe wrestle one child out of her seat before I returned. And, yes, I suppose it is possible a meteor could come falling out of the sky and land on our vehicle. I've read of sinkholes before, so there is always a chance that one could swallow our car in the few minutes I'd be gone. And I guess there is the remotest possibility that I could suffer a heart attack or aneurysm while in the store, leaving my children alone in the car until someone noticed. Spontaneous fire? Alien abuduction? Attack by a stowaway squirrel? The list of goes on... I weighed the risk and felt pretty confident none of those things were going to occur in the time I would be in the store. Call me crazy.

What I did not factor in was a busybody looking for her moment to shine at my expense, which is far more insidious - and common - than any of the other scenarios I considered.

***

To say this experience shook me is like saying I like a glass of wine every now and then… I was rattled and kept playing it over and over in my head. I went through with the appointment, managed to get the girls fed and in bed for their naps, and then, driven by the incredibly unnerving feeling that maybe cops were going to show up at my door, I hit the internet. I wanted to know a) if what I did was, in fact, illegal and b) if I needed to be ready for police and/or the Department of Child and Family Services to show up at my door with a warrants. A quick Google search taught me that laws vary state to state, however here in Illinois, it is perfectly legal to leave a child in a car for less than ten minutes. Phew.

Knowing I hadn't broken the law certainly eased my nerves, but did nothing to quell the terrible feeling of being humiliated and 'mommy shamed' by the clerk and woman outside. I called the store to complain, after which they apologized and told me that the police had not, in fact, shown up. The woman was either lying to me to prove a point or the cops didn't see reason to follow up. Either way, the whole situation made me think.

***

As a child of the '80's I don't ever remember being in a car seat. My siblings and I spent plenty of time waiting in the car while our mom ran a quick errand. We would regularly walk to the neighborhood park, without an adult, and play for hours. On weekends, we were set loose in the neighborhood in the morning and expected to be home at dinnertime. I was regularly sent door to door to track down my little sister who, at the age of 4 or 5, was prone to wandering off in search of a neighbor to give her a cookie. If we fell off our bike a neighbor or sibling would carry us home. If we ran late our parents would start calling around to track us down. That was parents trusting their children, their own instincts, and each other.

Yes, it takes a village to raise children, however MY village is one where we look out for one another and our children – NOT one where we try to find the best way to point fingers and play sheriff. If what that woman had really cared about was my kids, she could have waited by my car for a minute to give me a chance and then assess the situation. She could have had her husband run into the store and have the clerk call me on the loud speaker. Witnessing my kids in no distress and no immediate danger did not warrant a call to the police. Had she waited that single minute more, she would have found a slightly frazzled, very rushed, and very alone mother of three who left her kids in the car for less than five minutes to grab some medicine.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in safety and being vigilant about what’s happening around us… Car seats, bike helmets, and laws protecting the most vulnerable are all important. But, so is supporting each other. So, instead of pointing fingers, judging and - for heaven's sake - calling the cops... Perhaps we take a moment to offer a hand.

If we do this, the world we be a much less scary place. I promise.

Five Year Anniversary: Thoughts, Reflections and Confessions

Five years ago yesterday we untied the dock lines from our slip in Chicago and changed the course of our lives forever. If Facebook hadn't gently reminded me that "Here's a memory from five years ago!" and showed me the above picture, I absolutely wouldn't have remembered it (I mean, I can barely remember my own wedding anniversary), and I wouldn't have spent a large part of the day reminiscing and reflecting on all that has happened. I shared the picture to our Windtraveler Page with this caption:

This was the day we departed Chicago, 5 years ago. We sailed through the Great Lakes, across the Erie canal, down the Hudson River, down the East Coast, to the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, DR, PR and all through the windwards and leewards to Trinidad. It wasn't always pretty or easy (and more times than I'd like to admit we wanted to throw in the towel on the lifestyle and each other) but it was definitely an adventure!

Two boats, over a dozen countries, fifteen thousand nautical miles, three daughters, countless 'wins', an equal number of mistakes and zero regrets. 

When I look at this picture, I am struck by several things. First, how utterly naive we were when we left. I mean, we did not have a CLUE. When we think back and talk about those days, both Scott and I shake our heads in disbelief at how ill-prepared we were and thank our lucky stars that we didn't get ourselves killed. Which tells you a little something about boats (they are stronger than we are), common sense (a little goes a long way), and luck (it was on our side). We made so many mistakes...We sailed right into a terrible storm (still to date our worst yet), ran into a rock in the Erie Canal (it's truly a miracle we didn't sink our boat), took on water (thank God it was fresh) which, subsequently, killed our transmission (hooray for warranties!) And that was all within the first month of our leaving! We had never, ever anchored. We'd never even heard of a GRIB file, hadn't really communicated via VHF before and - aside from one little shakedown sail across the lake - had never sailed over night. I will say this, though, those first six months - as steep of a learning curve as they were - were among the best, most exciting months we've had. The world was our oyster, and everything felt thrilling and new. It was, in hindsight, a pretty magical time. We took baby steps the entire way, and that is a large part of the reason we are still here.

The other thing that strikes me when I look at this photo, is how different our initial agenda was from what has become our reality. We all know that 'plans' are subject to change - particularly for those of us who have the luxury to live on boats with no real agenda other than that which our vessels and Mother Nature dictate... but it's funny how quickly - and drastically - ours changed. Our journey went from being a "3-5 year circumnavigation" to becoming an open-ended semi-nomadic life in the Caribbean. Why? The obvious answer lies in our blissful naiveté, we literally had no idea what, exactly, a circumnavigation entailed and, frankly, we decided that maybe we didn't need to circle the globe to be content (we reserve the right to do this later when our girls are older!) The other answers are tied up in getting work to fill the cruising kitty, taking six to thirteen month shore-side breaks to have babies and getting a bigger boat to accommodate this rapid crew expansion. The other day I ran into a friend from our Chicago sailing days and she said, "Hey! You guys were going to sail around the world, right?" and I laughed and replied, "Yeah, well...we didn't get very far!" But what we didn't cover in nautical miles, we covered in life (three of them, to be exact) and those little girls are our greatest accomplishments. Our's is more of an evolution to a life less ordinary than a journey "from point A to point B," and I'm cool with that.

I'm also struck by how much we have changed both as individuals and as a couple.  There's been a lot of laughter and a lot of tears. There's been some serious soul searching and many, many questions. The emotional roller coaster that is life on a boat has been as diverse as the winds and seas we've sailed in. When we left, Scott and I were newlyweds - and now, after spending almost all of our married years together 24/7 on a (relatively) small sailboat we're... not. There are land-based couples who don't spend as much time together as we have in five years in twenty-five years and that is really something. That much togetherness is intense and, to be honest, it's been pretty detrimental to our relationship at times. In fact, I'm not sure that kind of excessive togetherness is healthy for most couples (sure, there are the "unicorn" pairs for whom this sort of situation is 'easy' but that is not us) and I have many friends that tell me there is no way they'd survive day in and day out with their spouse. We are still very much trying to navigate the ocean that is wedlock and it is challenging to say the least, particularly on a boat. We've learned a lot about ourselves and each other, and it's not always pretty. But we ride the waves; learning, loving, stumbling and growing - trying to stay afloat both literally and figuratively. Some days are easier than others, just like cruising.

We've sailed a bunch of miles, traveled to some amazing places, and done things that most people will only dream of - but, at the risk of sounding mega corny - these things are very much secondary to the journeys that have taken place within. Among other things, we have found our passions on the sea; I have found a voice on this blog and now know my calling is to write and share; Scott got his 200-ton captain's license and has found his life's work on the ocean. We have grown from wide-eyed wanderers to lightly-seasoned cruisers who have decided to make a life afloat, at least for now...

I think that's what strikes me the most about this picture: the fact that we had no idea what was ahead. If you would have told me five years ago all that I have just wrote, I don't know that I would have believed you. I look at this picture and feel hope, excitement, and wonder. I can put myself back in that precise moment five years ago like it was yesterday; the nerves, the butterflies, the giddy excitement, the awe...I can feel the (unusually) warm fall air, hear the gentle rumble of our engine, recall exactly what I was wearing (my SLAM long underwear and Patagonia pants, no shoes) and summon the surreal feeling of being hyper-aware of how lucky we were, of being totally cognizant of a mega paradigm shift and knowing full-well that nothing would ever be the same from that moment forward. I was totally present and grateful. 

And that, right there, is the beauty of the endless horizon. You might know exactly where you've been, but you never know exactly where you are going.

Your Life is an Adventure, But No One Wants to Hear Your Story

I'll never forget the time I came home after living in Tanzania and went to the local bar where many of my high school peers would occasionally hang out. I had been gone three years and was dealing with a fair amount of reverse culture shock - and subsequent depressive "funk" - as a result of my return. I self-consciously walked into the bar, saw some people I hadn't seen since highschool and after striking up generic "what have you been up to?" pleasantries with all of them (this was pre-Facebook, people!), I found it a) hard to describe that I had been living in Africa without sounding like a pompous asshole and/or dreaded 'travel snob' and b) interesting that once I did describe what I had been up to, "Err...I've been...in...um....Africa" - no one really cared. Sure, I got a few, "whoa's" and some "very cool's" but, in general, it ended there. No one wanted to know any details about anything I had experienced at all. Zero. 

It was an important lesson for me, and one that I am grateful I learned. While I'm embarrassed to admit I was feeling rather "interesting" and "exotic" coming right off my worldly travels and experiences (I mean, I witnessed a Masai circumcision for crying out loud), the fact that I did not 'hold court' in that hometown bar regaling tales of African adventure served me well by knocking me down a peg. It taught me an important lesson about sharing stories. Namely, that "sharing" plays a huge part in the telling of stories, and if there is not something shared between the listener and the storyteller, the story is irrelevant. A hard pill to swallow for someone who just had the most intense and incredible three years of her life and possesses an almost intrinsic compulsion to share (hence this blog). It doesn't mean that your 'audience' needs to have had the same experience as you, but there must be an interest, a desire...something to connect with. Many of the people in the bar that night had never been out of the country, let alone to Africa, so there was a lack of understanding. Not "ignorance" or "jealousy", simply no frame of reference. It hit me like a ton of bricks: just because you have a story to tell, does not mean others want to hear it. A humbling lesson for a twenty-seven year old gypsy spirit to learn.

Take parenthood, for example. For many of us, our kids dominate our conversations, thoughts, and Facebook feeds. Being parents is the most important thing we will ever do, and those of us who have children cannot imagine a life any other way. We find tremendous joy in watching our children grow and sharing our lives with them. We actively seek out friendships with other parents who understand our happiness and empathize with our struggles. Is parenthood is for everyone? Are people who chose a child-less route are any less fulfilled? Can we no longer sustain conversation and friendships with people who don't have kids? Absolutely not. I believe it's this way with cruising, travel and adventuring. It no doubt enhances and enriches the lives of those that chose it, but it's not for everyone. And that's a good thing.

It's the same now, after having lived on the boat. Rarely do Scott and I talk about our travels or life on our boat when we are out with our friends back home. It comes up almost never, and if it does - it's brief and not something we dwell on. Does this mean we don't love our friends? That we have nothing in common with them anymore? That we feel 'lost' in our own country? No, no, and no. We are blessed with amazing friendships that transcend our need to share our experiences abroad and we connect with them on other levels. The fact of the matter is this: not everyone is interested in travel or sailing or adventure. It might seem shocking to us that are, but people find happiness and contentment in many ways. When we get the pleasure to meet up with fellow travelers, adventurers, sailors or soon-to-be cruisers, the questions come flying. Why? Because these are people with whom we share our wanderlust with. People who possess this adventurous spirit, either in desire or in actuality, will revel in your tales from off the beaten path and you will revel in theirs. Stories have a time and place.

So don't be surprised if people aren't asking about what it's like to live on a boat, what it feels like to sail overnight, or what thoughts go through your head when you sail into a squall.... There's a quote that says, "We share with people who've earned the right to hear our story..." and while, at first, that sounds snobbish, I don't think it is. We are each of us a composite of a million stories, and how we connect truly and deeply with another person is in shared experiences. We are all multi-faceted individuals and most of us don't fit into any one single box, we can connect on many levels. We are a conglomeration of many: Traveler. Poet. Surfer. Musician. Writer. Athlete. Widow. Artist. Botanist. Addict. Parent. Teacher. Sailor. Animal lover. Techie. Husband. Wife. Sister. Brother. Daughter...etc.These shared experiences are what 'earn' us the right to hear, and share in, another's story. If you find that people aren't interested in the story you want to tell, don't take it personally; sit back, enjoy their company, and ask questions. You'll find a story that is shared.

And if that doesn't do it for you, find another outlet for telling your stories and start a blog. Worked for me ;)

How Do We Parent? Our Attempts to Raise Bad-Ass Daughters (Finger's Crossed it Works!)

Meet Aqua Girl. Well, actually, she calls herself "Blast Off" but Scott and I have taken to calling her Aqua Girl for obvious reasons. She'll answer to either and, depending on her mood (note: she's three), she'll correct you as to what her preferred name is.

And *this* is what I love about watching a child grow. This picture right here. She did this all on her own and walked up to me and said, "You can call me Blast Off" and then rattled off a list of her super powers and started zipping around the boat, climbing like a monkey, running back and forth and making what I can only call "Superhero noises". The only direction I gave her for this photo was to give me a thumbs up, as Superhero's are wont to do.

This photo. I love it so much.

***

If I have one goal in life, it is to raise strong, happy and confident daughters which is a pretty tall order in today's world. We have been very intentional about how we bring up our girls; and our style is a hodge-podge of parenting philosophies (though I cringe at that term). We were not "intentional" about selecting these philosophies, they were more instinctual for us and after reading and learning about these various "styles", I find we actually do fit into a few. We're a little bit attachment parent, a healthy dose free-range parent, and a nice serving of slow parent.

What does that mean, exactly?

As far as "attachment parenting" goes - when our girls were younger we did a LOT of baby wearing. Isla was worn almost non-stop for the first four months of her life, and I loved "tandem wearing" the twins for at least as long. All our girls were/are breastfed exclusively, Isla until sixteen months (she self-weaned when I was pregnant with the twins) and Haven and Mira still nurse at almost eighteen months. In addition, fostering a close-knit family bond through intense bouts of family time and togetherness is paramount to us.

We fit into the "free range" style a bit as well. We let our girls explore freely and do our best not to scare them or hinder them from doing something adventurous unless it will result in being seriously hurt (note: falling off a couch does not count as "hurt" in our book). Yes, our girls have a lot of bumps and bruises as a result, but how else do kids learn their limits and the consequences of their actions? I am very honest with them and put a lot of trust in their natural instincts. When they are getting into a dangerous situation, I tell them about it and mince no words explaining the repercussions. Almost always they make the choice to back off and take a better route (believe me, just because they cannot speak does not mean they don't understand!) Our girls climb all over our boat and while we always keep a watchful eye, we do not hover. In turn, they gain confidence in their skills and physical abilities. I can only imagine the things people on boats next to us are thinking when they see our three year old climb the mast unassisted and slide up onto the boom to lay down!

In addition to our total encouragement of testing physical limits, we have a limited selection of toys, no television (though our three year old does play games on a iPad and will watch movies from time to time), and we read, a lot. There is no shortage of children's books on our boat and we read aloud to our girls as much as possible. As a result, they love "play time" with books surrounding them, even though none of them can read. Fostering a love of books and the ability to quietly self-entertain are huge priorities for us.

When it comes to "slow" parenting - we keep it simple. While I do not deny the benefit of extra-curricular activities for a growing child and mind, it is our belief that kids today are overbooked and it starts way too young. For us, not rushing to and fro makes for a less stressful environment (getting three kids from A to B is hard enough without having to adhere to a time!) When our girls are older I am sure they will be involved in extracurriculars, but at their current ages (three and eighteen months) - I find it more beneficial (and easier!!) to simply play with them and take them to places where their imaginations can run wild. Luckily, our lifestyle is such that we are at the beach every day - and I truly believe there are no better toys in the world than water and sand. We believe strongly in free play, being outside as much as possible and living life in the S.L.O.W lane.

The final piece of this puzzle is sleep. We are huge proponents of the importance of sleep and adhere to a pretty strict sleep and nap schedule for our children (we follow and highly recommend the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child) which does give our day some pretty rigid structure, flying in the face of many of the "philosophies" listed above. Sleep and routine are two things we feel are very important for growing children, so whatever "philosophy" that fits under, I guess we're a little bit of that as well. But I will say that life on a boat - which can be very unpredictable - is much, much easier (for us) when our children are on a schedule. And naps? Naps and early bedtimes are my sanity. I cannot even begin to tell you.

***

I understand that we are privileged to be able to raise our children this way. I recognize that not every parent can spend this kind of time with their kids. I also realize how lucky I am to have so many resources, from books to online parenting forums, to help guide me in my journey as a mother. I also know that not *every* parent wants to raise their kids in this way; bucking tradition and the way they were raised in search of something different. Some of my very best friends live "traditional" modern-day lives and are amazing mothers with amazing children.

Just as our "style" is a conglomeration of defined philosophies, so is that of every parent. We do our best with the time and resources available to us. I might not be the mom to host a Princess themed play-date for ten kids, cook the best organic and Pinterest worthy food (mac and cheese is a staple here -wince), or create the cutest DIY Halloween costumes for our girls...But I am the mom who initiates full-blown dance parties with her girls, reads stories in awesome voices (thank you theater degree!), belts out Taylor Swift with gusto and wholly lets her sixteen month old summit the ten foot rock wall at the park with nary a hand on her. And I think those things are pretty cool, too. Yin and yang.

So instead on focusing what our girls are not getting by living a less-traditional existence (dance lessons, soccer camp, regular play dates, etc.) I tend to look at the positives of our lifestyle; the connectedness with nature, a more simple existence, making do with less 'stuff', and (fingers crossed!) a tighter-knit sisterly and family bond...which to me makes this all worth it. As with everything in life, there is a trade off and there is no doubt our girls will miss out on some of the benefits a traditional life offers. But for us and our girls, bucking tradition and forging our own path - in life and parenting - is working just fine.

Thank You for Keeping it Real

I was pretty overwhelmed by the response to our last post.  It never ceases to amaze me which of my posts tend to really strike a chord with people.  They are almost never the ones about us traveling in beautiful locations or sailing to exotic places (i.e. much of this blog). Instead, they are the missives that I usually think of as rather mundane when I sit down to write them (or, of course, the ones that are the most dramatic). The posts where I find myself working out a particular conundrum or writing out the bones of a skeleton hiding in my closet.  I certainly never sit down to write something and think, "Now *this* is really going to get 'em!" Nope. These days in particular (since down time is such a precious rarity), I write when I am moved to write and I write from the heart. I don't blog for numbers and I don't blog to make a buck (though I probably should start monetizing a bit more). Sometimes my anecdotes are funny, sometimes somber, sometimes reflective - but the posts that seem to resonate the most are the ones where I am totally candid and shed light on the inner workings and struggles of a real honest-to-goodness human being.

When I say it like that I guess I really shouldn't be surprised after all.

If there is one thing that connects us as people it's the fact that - when it's all said and done - we all want the same few things. Safety, belonging and mattering.  In a world that, on the surface, seems more connected than ever, we grow more and more distant from one another. We share only our best pictures, put forth our happiest faces and create the illusions that our lives are much more interesting and satisfying than they really are. I think all of us do this at some level. I know I do. It's almost impossible not to. But it is imperitive to our health to stop perpetuating the fallacy of perfection, or at the very least, find a little place in this world where we don't feel like we have to.

So when we as humans share our struggles, pain, and weakness as I did the other week, people seem to enjoy it. They find it refreshing. Not because they revel in another's hardship, but because they realize they are not the only ones who struggle with fill in the blank. And if there is one feeling most humans do not enjoy, it's the feeling of being alone in this world (note: this is different from "alone time" which. Is. Awesome.)

It's easy to read a blog like ours and imagine our lives as perfect, when the truth is very far from that. Yes, we are blessed. Yes, we are thankful. Yes, our life has taken some interesting twists and turns that put us a little to the left of "normal". But "perfect" we are not. In the vast majority of this blog I have aimed to focus on the positive, which on one level resonated with people. But now I think I will strive to focus more on being real and honest. Obviously this is not easy, as it makes me vulnerable. But I believe I am a better writer and a better person when I can speak freely and truly (even though for the sake of my dad I will always try to swear as little as possible on the blog, despite the fact that I swear like a sailor in real life).

All this is my very roundabout (and verbose *wince*) way of saying thank you to all of you. I honestly have the best readers in the whole blogosphere as far as I am concerned. After my "limbo" post so many of you reached out to say, "Yes!! Me too!! Thank you!!" and I so appreciate that. I certainly did not see it coming. I know I am a terrible blogger who breaks the cardinal rule of blogging in that I do not respond to most comments (between email, Facebook messages and blog comments I am way behind) - but I am so thankful to have here a community of readers who are fellow human beings who (for the most part) recognize when another of their own is struggling (no matter how big or small that struggle may be) and who reach out to say: "you are not alone."

Thank you for connecting. Thank you for keeping it real. And thank you for allowing me to do the same.

In Limbo: The Downside of a Dream on Hold

I studied Dante's Inferno in college. While I don't remember too much about the allegory, I do recall with pretty vivid detail his description of limbo.  It was a place teetering on the outskirts of hell specially reserved for people who didn't accept or deny Christ and "lacked the hope for something greater than rational minds can conceive." In other words, it was a place for people who made no commitment one way or another, an eternal hang-out for folks who failed to make conscious moral choices. It certainly wasn't heaven but it wasn't quite damnation either. Free thinkers like the poets and philosophers of antiquity (along with unbaptised babies) hung out in this limbo. Today, the term "limbo" is used more informally to describe state of being stagnant, that irksome feeling of going from nowhere to nowhere.  A period of uncertainty.

It also happens to be exactly where Scott and I find ourselves these days.
(And, no, Socrates and Homer are not here. Bummer.)

Every day I get emails from people asking questions on how to make their dream of living on a boat come true. They want to know the secret to breaking out of the rat race and find a way to fill the cruising kitty and fund their gypsy lifestyle. "How do you do it?" they want to know.

The truth is: we don't know. We have no answers. We have no magic to share. We're not living our dream. We're not making it happen. Sure, it worked for a while. But now? Not so much.

And herein lies the downside of choosing an alternative lifestyle at relatively young ages: Scott and I have no real fallback plan.

We sold our cars, left our jobs, and all our money went into our boat and our dream. We have no home. We have no significant savings. We are living with my parents for crying out loud (which we are incredibly grateful for because we'd be living in a van by the river otherwise). We have no idea where to go from here and it feels like we're starting from square one, except we're not in our twenties, but in our mid to late thirties with three small children. You can praise our lifestyle all you want, but right now we are hardly "living the dream". In fact from our vantage point (and I'm sure the vantage point of others) - we feel like utter failures.

We left in 2010 with big plans and enough money to float us along for a good while. When that ran out, Scott found work and we were, happily, living check to check while floating along. Bringing one baby into the equation didn't even phase us. It was all good and we kept plugging along. When we found out we were having twins, however, a colossal (and blessed!) monkey wrench was thrown into our life (insert sound of record scratching).

So here we are.  In limbo. Going nowhere. Stuck in a rut. And feeling pretty crappy about it. Wah, wah.

Since we've been home I have been in a fog of multiple motherhood and only now am I reaching a point with the twins that I feel like I can come up for air and take a look around.  Scott has been working really hard to try and make a decent income from various real estate outlets, but they haven't proven viable for the long term. We have no idea what to do. We're not sure where to go from here. We have no real plan (other than this one, for now) and no concrete ideas on how to support ourselves and our dreams moving forward.

I would love to be able to write more, to do freelance work and bring in some income (the blog and various affiliates do bring in a nice chunk of change, but certainly not enough to call "income") - but right now, almost all of my time is spent caring for our children which, mind you, I am very happy to do, but it's not leaving much room for anything else. Scott would love to find a gig that allows for us to live on the boat part time, and land part time but, as most of you know, that's a pretty tall order. Not to mention he has some pretty hefty gaps in his resume now and no real fall-back "career".

Choosing an alternative lifestyle, while it grants us some wonderful adventures and opportunities, has left us feeling a little lost and...for lack of a better word...stuck. We don't own any real land-based possessions to speak of, but we do own our boat, so do we move aboard Asante full-time? Do we look for job-opportunities in the British or US Virgin Islands and commit ourselves to a life aboard abroad? If so - what would we do? Thankfully, the door is always open with Island Windjammers, and Scott was offered a gig to be a captain and take out passengers on our boat - but then what would me and the girls do all day? Surely vacationers aren't interested in days sails with three babies on a boat and that's not really the kind of lifestyle we're looking for either.  Do we come back to land, rent a house and re-enter the working world with the hopes to save enough to take off again in a few years? We don't have the answers to any of these questions right now and that is a pretty unsettling feeling.

Has living in the "real world" gotten to us? Has our semi-reluctant re-entry into a society that values careers, home ownership and material goods tainted our dreaming minds? Have we been comparing ourselves to our land-lubbing peers and felt the sting that the life we have lead and what we have done is simply not valued here?  Perhaps. I certainly think this is a big part of it.

So when people write us asking how we do it, I am inclined to write back: I'm so sorry, but I just. don't. know. It worked for us for a while, but now that we have a family - and a substantial one at that - suddenly, everything is a little a lot more complicated. We want so much for our girls. We want them to be proud of us, to see what we have accomplished and, in turn, inspire them to work hard to achieve their dreams, whatever those might be. We want them to be happy, confident, strong and kind. We want to teach them to be citizens of the world, and the sort of people who dream big and strive to make the world a better place.

What we don't know is what that life looks like and how to get there. We've been floating along without any real direction or long-term plan for so long, that we've sort of atrophied our ability to steer.

Limbo.

Lucky for us, our "limbo" is less permanent than Dante's.  We are not eternally stuck here. We have the means to get out because our limbo is an intermediate condition, an intermission. We have no idea what lies ahead, but I guess that's what makes life beautiful, right? It's the uncertainty and the mystery of the future, and the lessons we learn along the way, that keep us moving forward toward something (hopefully) bigger and better than before...

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”
- Gilda Radner

Everything Looks Perfect from Far Away

Last night I heard the very sad news that Robin Williams died.  "What does that have to do with sailing?" you ask.  Nothing.  His death has nothing to do with sailing.   But his death has struck me harder than I could have ever imagined. This blog has deviated from the boating life for a while now and, believe it or not, the untimely death of Robin Williams is, in fact, relevant to this blog in that it has touched on a subject that I have been wanting to write about for quite some time, but never seemed to find the way.

As soon as the news of the alleged suicide hit the internet, people have been expressing their collective grief. The reactions run the gamut: it's tragic, it's a waste, so sad, huge loss, etc.  But the overwhelming emotion bubbling to the top of the chatter is the absolute shock the majority of the world feels. "Robin Williams, master of laughs, depressed!?"  "Robin Williams, successful movie star and comedian, taking his own life?!" Of course 99.9% of the people chiming in (me included) didn't know Mr. Williams personally, but we all "knew" him based on what he shared with the world.  Namely: a lot of laughs.  According to what we could see, he was a happy, manic, goof ball, hell-bent on making people smile.  But we obviously only saw part of the picture.

And this is what I think is wrong with today.
(And here is where I am going to deviate and get a little abstract...)

We live in a world of over-sharing.  Facebook, Twitter, Snap-chat, Instagram, Tumblr and, of course, blogging all fall under the umbrella of "social media" which, by definition, is: websites and applications that enable users to create and share content or to participate in social networking.  The word "network" implies connection.  Most of us partake in this charade at some level; you must have either incredible resolve or be completely technically incompetent to avoid it - but it's important to remember what it is: a charade.  The assumption is that this type of networking "connects" all of us and makes us feel like we are not alone, yet for so many this could not be farther from the truth.  Most of us share only the best and bury the rest which leads to a bunch of people seeing our "ideal" lives and feeling inadequate or insecure, or worse - making those of us who suffer feel tremendously alone in our pain.  The selfies are picture perfect, the meals are organic and ornate, the outfits flawless and fitting.  The relationships are happy and effortless, the friendships deep and meaningful, the families close and loving.  No one bitches about their marriages, complains about the dosage of their anti-depressant, or admits the fact that they think they might be dropping the ball on the whole "parenthood" thing.  Nope.  The world according to social media is perfect and it is total bull-crap.  "This is your life.  This is your life according to Facebook."

I am not saying that we need to start airing our dirty laundry on the internet or spewing all that is wrong in our lives on the web to solve this problem.  I don't know what the answer is.  I do, however, think that people need to stop assuming that what they read and see is the whole picture, because more often than not, it isn't.  It's easy to project a certain image from behind the pages of a magazine, book, profile or blog but the vast majority of us live lives of "quiet desperation" and yet we see very little of that.  I am not even going to pretend I know what it feels like to suffer from clinical depression or to feel so desperate that I would consider taking my own life.  But what I do know from being the author of this blog is that there are a lot of assumptions and misconceptions about me, our life, and our family that are just dead wrong.  It's not easy to be 100% honest with each other because in order to do so we must expose something and become vulnerable.  "Vulnerable" has a negative connotation in our society and it's very difficult to open up and expose our weaknesses to others, particularly if those around you assume you have it all.  Yet sharing vulnerability is precisely what takes us beyond the superficial and connects us more deeply than anything.  Therein lies the catch 22.

I think there are some important lessons and conversations to be had as a result of the passing of one of the greatest comedic geniuses of all time.  No one is perfect.  No one has it all and unless you truly "know" a person, you never really know them and their struggles or their pain.  Depression is a very real, very insidious disease that knows no boundaries and I believe that the lack of real connection between human beings today is part of why this disease runs so rampant in our society.  We compare ourselves constantly against false measures; whether it be the models in magazines, the characters in movies, or our very own Facebook news feeds. Everything looks perfect from far away, and the internet - specifically social media - is like a backwards telescope.

"We all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own, even though others may think them odd or unpopular, even though the herd may go “that’s baaaaad.” Robert Frost said, "Two roads diverged in the wood and I, I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference." - Dead Poets Society

While I obviously place a high value on marching to the beat of your own drum and living "outside the box," I think it is so important to remember that even as individuals we are all in this together and that, no matter what, we are never alone.

Rest in Peace, Robin Williams.  Thank you for making all of us laugh.  Thank you for creating beauty. Thank you for making this world a better place with your gift.

No matter what anyone tells you, words and ideas can change the world.

-Robin Williams