The Invitation That Changed Everything

How a week with a woman sailor rekindled a dream I thought I'd drowned.

It all began with a song.  The harmonies of CSNY’s “Southern Cross” and “Lee Shore” planted seeds.  A dream of freedom, adventure of quiet sails, beautiful sunsets/sunrises.  It was a romantic dream and we chased it: 2 CANSAIL courses, a tippy International 420 we aptly named “The Get Wet Boat,” and the big step up to a Pearson 30, we had the dream in the palm of our hands.  The only thing missing at the time, was retirement.

But on that Pearson, something broke.  I can’t explain it.  It was like a switch that flipped. One moment I was fine; the next, as my husband hoisted the mainsail, I was sitting in the cockpit, head between my knees, a white-knuckled, hyperventilating mess.  The dream was happening, and I was its saboteur.  The fear was irrational and I knew it, but it persisted and followed me to our next boat.  A MacGregor 26 M, our ultimate dream boat, so we thought.  My anxiety continued and I completely lost any self confidence that I had left.  I had given up on the retirement dream of sailing into the sunset.

Meanwhile, my sister-in-law had a different story.  She was learning to sail and loving it, with her friend, Duffy.  Her invitations were a steady, gentle drip on my resistance.  

“Go, you’ll love it.”

“She’s a great teacher.”

“You won’t be scared.”

For two years, I said no.  My internal monologue was a shroud of dread: “Impossible.”  “What if I panic?”  “What if I need to walk home from the middle of the river?”  I still really wanted that dream to come true and felt horrible that it wouldn’t happen because of me.

Then, finally, I said yes.  The instant the word left my mouth, the pit in my stomach opened wide. What have I done?

I arrived at the beach, braced for the old familiar terror.  But what I found was a completely different world.

Waiting for pickup in Jenkins Cove

Duffy’s boat wasn't just a vessel; it was a sanctuary.  There were no assumptions, no unspoken tests of skill.  There was patience, clear language and laughter, so much laughter.  The pressure to perform for a partner, the fear/anxiety, the ghost of past failures began to evaporate in the simple, competent camaraderie of a woman on the water.

When it came time to hoist the sail, my heart still hammered.  But this time, I wasn't alone with my fear.  I was beside someone who understood it without judgment, who guided me on the tiller and who celebrated the simple act of trying.  The mainsail rose and I stayed upright. I breathed. I even smiled.  She yelled, “Nailed it!”

Wandering into Palmer's Creek

The Galactacat joining us in Palmer's Creek

That week didn’t just teach me to sail again; it taught me why I had stopped.  It wasn’t the wind or the waves. It was a lost sense of agency, a narrative of fear and anxiety that ran on repeat like a broken record.  My experience with Duffy changed my life in ways I can’t begin to explain. 

It was the spark that led me, just a few years later, to own my own sailboat.  It’s the reason I write this blog, for anyone who has ever felt that their dream is sailing away without them, who hears “you won’t be scared” and thinks, “but you don’t understand.”

I understand. And the first, bravest step is sometimes as simple as saying yes to the right invitation.

Has there been a “Duffy” in your life, a person or an experience that unexpectedly re-routed your journey?  Or are you waiting for the courage to say yes to an invitation that scares you?   I’d love to hear about it in the comments.