3/9/2012

**author’s note: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and hemmed and hawed about whether to share something so, well, personal.  But, I’m deciding to do it because this is all part of the journey, too.  Please read this as it occurred to me: a moment in time.  I’m fine, really.  Just had to get it out.**

A year and a half ago my life – our lives – looked completely different.   And now, sitting here “snowed in” in Nassau, in all of this change, I’ve had some time to think.

Aside from the beautiful water, beaches, and fun “new-ness” of everything – not to mention not working right now (wo-hoo!)– there is another side, at least for me.

I have doubts.  I have fears.  I have insecurities.

Sometimes I worry about our safety aboard but mostly I worry about money and how we’re going to “pull this off”.  Generally I find it pointless and mentally exhausting to evaluate whether “I’ve done/I’m doing the right thing” on a daily basis.  But, that doesn’t stop the questions from coming and the doubts from keeping me up at night, getting me out of bed and to the computer where I write this post.

I find some comfort in the assumption that most people who are doing something totally new and perhaps radically different from what they’ve done previously have a lot of these thoughts – do they?  I also wonder if my distress is something intrinsically female as I recall words of older women I’ve read over the years: when asked things like “what would tell your younger self?” inevitably they say things like “don’t worry so much”.

I’m generally not a worrier.  To the contrary, I’ve been faithful in my ability to pull it out when needed and this has gotten me through a lot in life.  I hold the same faith now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold the doubts, as well – and they seem louder than they’ve ever been.  Actually, they’re probably just as loud as whenever I’ve done big stuff in life – like my first Legislative Session “on my own”.

Speaking of doing “big stuff in life”, I suppose I should share a bit of how I got here in the first place:

We had stable jobs, owned a home in the same town we grew up in, had a healthy savings account and no debt (something we worked many extra hours for years to build).  In other words, we had done the things you’re supposed to do (and these financial choices, have allowed us to be where we are today).

Secretly though (to some more than others), I had longed for years for a life abroad.   And, yearned to stop secretly hating the Tuesday morning kayaker I spied on my commute to a weekly agency meeting – how’d he get away with that!?!

So, we left on a controlled, self-designed sabbatical of sorts to backpack in Central America “For three to six months” – notice the end date already established.  While we were out, everything was nicely packed away:  our home, dog, car and all of our worldly possessions were being well looked after, bills were paid in advance and “for when we came back”, we had the house and our savings account intact (having saved separately for travel).

Fast forwarding through our travels on and off the backpacker trail through Nicaragua and Costa Rica, something happened in Panama.

While living eight miles out by boat from the nearest town, on solar and water catch, we got it in our head that we wanted more “like this”.  And, because of our experiences on sailboat, we allowed ourselves to dream of becoming live-aboard sailors.  Then something even bigger happened:  we allowed ourselves the opportunity to move forward with the dream.   We put pen to paper, crunched the numbers and thought “maybe we can actually pull this off”.

Admitting this to others was more difficult.  Aside from my parents, who are wonderful, supportive and have the appropriate amount of parental concern for our future, my biggest insecurity was the reaction of those in my professional network.

I think a lot of my identity in Austin, in the political scene, was wrapped up in being taken “seriously”.  Was it because I was young, a woman, working in a field where I was constantly challenged by “authority” for my credentials, the serious nature of the work I did, or all – or none – of the above?  It doesn’t really matter; I still felt that way, strongly.  And, it mattered that people perceived me as serious about what I did.

Selling everything (selling out?) to move aboard a boat and travel in the Caribbean didn’t seem like something a serious person would do, so I floundered.  I protected my secret, like I protected my original traveling plans.

For me, part of the allure of the new path we set out to take was practicing ways of being that I had discovered in Panama; it seems cliché but I distinctly remember being anchored off the coast of no-where, stargazing and thinking about how small we all are – and take myself so seriously gained a new perspective.  I knew that I had changed, shifted – or, “crossed over” as another cruising couple calls it.

One thing I learned about myself while “on the road” in Central America in 2011 was how adaptable I am to my environment – or conversely, how much my environment affects me.   And, I knew that when returning to Austin, it would be important for me to clearly define for myself and re-introduce to others shifts I had made/am making which are important to me.  Some weren’t surprised at all, most had a lot of questions and for a few, shifts that were made were deal-breakers.  Of course, in the six months we were gone, everyone else had exciting changes, too, which I in no way mean to discount; it’s just I can’t speak for them, only for me.

Upon return, I was also keenly aware that I was more of the “Tuesday morning kayaker” than the “agency meeting commuter” but without an absence from my professional network, my community – I didn’t have a “kayaking network” – I would have been a lot harder to build muscle memory for a new path within an old context.

So, here I am, getting everything I asked for: a thrilling adventure into the unknown (which is by nature, uncertain).   Funny how that comes with the territory, eh?

xoxo,

L