A defective ship.

For years, and perhaps my entire life, I have been a ship – a defective ship sailing across a large body of water. I selected the word ‘defective’ with more intention than I have ever selected a word, so please, don’t try to convince me I am not. I am. And that’s okay.

As I was making my way across this body of water called ‘Life,’ I kept experiencing cracks in my exterior. The cracks were causing leaks. I would patch the leaks up, as best as I could with the tools that I had. Some of my patchwork seemed effective, at least for a period of time. But there was never any indication whether my patchwork would last a week or a month or a year. Eventually, I always started leaking again.

Before I knew it, the leaks were occurring faster than I could patch. I was running around the ship, chaotically, desperately, frantically.

Patch. Patch patch. Patch, patch, patch.

The patches came in many forms – perfectionism, people pleasing, codependent relationships, an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, alcohol abuse. The patches are results of my ‘character defects.’  

But then one day, December 6, despite all my might, I couldn’t patch quick enough. The ship began to sink, and I nearly drowned while in it.

Instead of drowning, I did something braver. I asked for help.

Now, instead of patchworking my way across a gigantic ocean, I am repairing the ship and all its defects (I'll explain how at a later date, when I am more comfortable with the topic).

It’s much, much harder. But the great news is, I have better tools to work with! Repairing the defects is taking a lot more time and significantly more elbow grease than patching them, but at least I know the ship is safe – not just for me, but for all its passengers. And here's the thing, I can't just abandon this ship and jump on a new one. I am on this one for life, so repair, I must.

While I work on repairing the ship, I need complete focus. Repairing a ship is hard work, you know! This means I had to lovingly kick some passengers off; I may ask them to come aboard in the future. I may not. But ultimately, that decision will be mine and mine alone, because I am the captain of my own life (passengers don’t necessarily have to be people; some are behaviors and thought processes that no longer serve me). Obsessive people-pleasing? I threw her over the deck. Healthy boundary setting? Welcome aboard! People committed to misunderstanding me? Your passport is not valid here.

Since the shipwreck on December 6, I have not blogged, but I have written 32,973 words. I write every day, whether I feel inspired to write or not. The writing is not polished – it’s a stream of consciousness. I am playing around with the idea of writing a book. I even have a table of contents, ideas for 22 chapters.  

I know there are several of you out there who have communicated to me that my writing has helped you in some way. For that, I thank you. I am humbled.

I promise I am still here, writing. I will continue to blog publicly when I feel the time is right.

I think for my first blog, I will write about my “laundry list” of character defects, but more importantly, how I am integrating them into my life so they serve me, not hurt me. How I am repairing, not abandoning, myself.