The Sailing Ducky

This ship seems to chew you up, along with all the good in you, and spit you out, but I find out something new about myself each contract.

When I come back, I find that I love the me I evolve into. All of the crap the ship threw at me, only made me stronger. It’s like you’re sick and a surgeon has to kill some of the good parts to destroy the bad. The ship being the metaphorical surgeon of course.

Then, after the surgery happens, the healing begins. The regrowth. That’s what our vacation time is. We get to mend our wounds, both physical and emotional. We get the love and support we need from our friends and family. Our daughters, brothers, parents, grandchildren. We get muched needed rest. We get new adventures, new smiles, new memories. It’s a medication that will keep us sustained on our next contract.

Sometimes, people decide that vacation seems like it should go on forever, and they decide to let go of the ship life. They go on to a better place. A better job opportunity. They get to be with their families and start new lives.

I don’t blame them for choosing to not come back. I’ve had days and weeks on the ship where I think about it. I wonder, “if something better came along, would I choose it? If I had the man of my dreams, the home of my dreams, the job, the car, the simple little succulent garden that would spiral out of control at the first sighting of a little moon cactus.. would I choose that? Or ship life?”

I’d choose the ship. I would choose it any day. Over any man. Over any job. Its a sickness. Its like Stockholm syndrome with the ship. It abuses you, and you come back for more, because you’re sick. You’re so sick with ship life. You’re addicted to it. And life on land just doesn’t feel right anymore.

So, if that’s not crazy enough, here’s the reason I choose the ship:

Each time I come back, I’m still the same me, only stronger, or more brave, or more confident. I’m changing and evolving into a better version of myself. We are all the main characters in our own story. As cliche as that is. But each time I come back, I feel more enlightened about the character I would be in a story. In my own book. In someone else’s book? Am I someone worth caring for? Am I a supporting role in someone else’s story? Am I the comedic relief? Am I just an extra?

And of course with all the extra time we have to think while on board, we wonder, “if a disaster did happen, and if we did die, would our death and funeral even show up as a scene or chapter in our “friend’s” or “ship family’s” stories? Or were we just an extra, someone they hardly knew existed but gave a little fluff to their lives. A fluff “how’s it going”, a wave, nod, or even a smile.”

I feel that each time I come back to the ship, rested and refreshed from vacation time, I am able to feel the new me. I get to meet the next version of myself. I guess it would be similar to one of these iPhone users getting excited for the newest, latest phone to come out.

I wonder, “Will I like the latest update? Or the latest version of myself?” I don’t know. I can’t predict the future. But I can do everything today to come back as a better me tomorrow. I can be someone that’s worthy of being loved and if someone doesn’t love me back, that’s on them, not me. If I get written out of their story then so be it.

I come back to the ship each time so that I can go through some rough times, face new challenges, make choices, forge new friendships, make new mistakes, face new consequences, and evolve into a better person. Each time I like who I become. I become a little bit stronger, a little bit wiser, and I have more meaningful friendships than I’ve ever had in my life. So maybe I’m not sick? Maybe it’s not Stockholm? Or is this how a person with Stockholm syndrome thinks?