I don’t recall the last time I felt bored, I mean perhaps at a past dead-end desk job but bored because I had nothing to do, nothing to work on, no projects, no chores. I CAN ALWAYS find something to do, create or attempt to make something better, finishing said task is a completely different battle though. Sometimes it feels like I just swim in circles in a fishbowl but swimming just for the sake of swimming should not be the goal in my opinion.
“I am the captain of my own soul”-William Ernest Henley
The same goes for work too, I make a better first mate than a deckhand, still, since the stay-at-home order, I have become increasingly sicker and sicker of my lack of progress on things. I finally bought and have managed to not kill a few house plants, I have kept up and maintain a respectable and cute organizer for days, weeks, and months, nonschool reading is back seat but it’s a weekly activity. I clean what I have put off cleaning, donated/sold projects and or items I have accepted as dead ends…it sounds weird but I have this hiccup about completing things, as if I think ending said task will take away some of my value.
Going back to school to finish my AA has been the biggest hurdle, it’s draining, task-oriented, heavy reading, analyzing, and yet some nights, drained as I am I wander around my little studio, attempting to mark things off my lists. This sometimes lasts into the very early mornings before I tire and come up for air. I cry at night, lot, a feeling of having no control over my tasks causes me to swim in some evil sea of never-ending needs or wants. Without my lovely rose to tuck me in my mind spins, it drowns in ideas and desires. Yes, I should mention I have been obtaining from alcohol, silly I know lol. I go online onto sites that I have always wanted to research, human trafficking awareness, gardening, travel destinations, pooch rescue sites, shopping for items I will never buy…lists, lists, and never-ending lists!!
I really struggle to just be…or calm. My Mother was calm, always asking us to keep still and not rock the boat but oh do I love a good boat rocking session, it feels like that is how I make things happen. I am always looking for something to do or organize. I tell myself at times that I drank to relax, to “quiet the voices” to be clear I do not hear voices, not real ones. I hear my Dad asking me why I don’t visit more often, my Sister beckoning me to teach her how to cook mac n’ cheese, my boyfriend desiring quality time, how I should be organizing my closet, organizations, and or charities that could use a cheerleader. It’s maddening! I am thankful for the drive to take care of things I need to, to care, to be willing to help, and for sacrificing to be there for them and for causes that have victims that cannot always speak but I am ill-equipped to run a fleet, it takes an army to do such things and I have sunk many a ship trying to find a solution where one is not necessarily needed or possible.
When I take a step back from all the items on my lists I see an ocean full of ships. They allow me to abandon myself for what I believe needs to be done but some ships seem lower than others, I believe those are sinking. My Fathers ship, filled with memories of him, my childhood and so much love and support is also a demanding ship, I want to do all the chores on this ship, to cook and clean for him, as if my Father cannot be its captain, because for some reason I think I can run that ship better and yet it sinks, ever so slowly. I imagine myself on the bow, listening to his words of negativity, his indifference, his lazy excuses. Despite his huge heart for his family, this love powers the ship but his own trauma shakes my core, it’s like being whipped bare-skinned when I have to hear him speak of his political opinions. My Mother left the ship years ago, she’s in heaven looking down telling me ‘you don’t need to sail his ship, sail your own’. It’s heartbreaking but I have let go a bit. I continue to let go of things, projects, and people that do not bring me joy. I will maintain but I can no longer lose sleep adding you to a list. Recently “send a card” was added to every Monday for a month, I sent out a few but erased it later; why am I hitting my head against a wall to maintain small ships that rarely come to port, people have their own lives, I am not a part of their plans, that is so hard to write, I don’t fault them. Diving off my Fathers ship was a healthy step, he’s ok with it, he can take care of himself for now.
“Can we swim away from the wreck that we created?” -Marshmellow
I am actually not a captain, I am a commander. All of my ships have someone in them manning the sails, doing the chores, and trying to create a life for themselves, maintaining as they deem right. I’ve created wrecks and sank ships while at war, it has taken me a long time to figure out the war within myself is the one I should be focusing on. There are battles to be lost and battles to be won and lately each day I harness the scene in Dead Poets Society, “O Captain. My Captain”. While it was a homage to Whitman, for me it is a homage to all the people I have met who let the seas govern them. Let depression, anxiety, abuse, and perhaps trauma, in general, tell them how to sail, how to battle, how to win and how to lose.
I’m up on my own desk, celebrating the end of a war or sorts. I am not a Captain, I am a Commander, of my soul, of my choices, of my successes and even my failures.
-B
