Being Eaten By a Shark Would Be an Epic Way to Go
Setting sail and excited to see what this salty leg of my summer adventure brings!
I’m getting on the Hychka, a 36-foot sailboat, right after I finish writing this. My friend Kevin is sailing from Victoria, BC to San Francisco, and I’m one of his crew. We’ll be at sea for a week or more, and I’m pretty stoked about it. I’m also nervous, because it’s a massive stretch of open ocean and I’ve never sailed for that long, or that far. I’ve been joking that I may get eaten by a shark, which would be an epic way to go, but I’m determined not to die on this trip, especially because my friends would have a hell of a time sorting out my affairs, which are NOT in order. I do not want them dealing with the mess in my bedroom closet!
This summer, being on the road — and now, heading out to sea — has been a revelation; life feels kind of like a trippy Felix Colgrave short. I’m zooming out from the last few years in which I built a life that turned out to be based on something that wasn’t real. The sorrow of the ending of that era, and relationship, is shifting. I feel smaller and larger at the same time. It’s almost psychedelic, like I’ve been on a light dose of acid for weeks.
I feel lucky, even though it’s weird to feel lucky at a time like this. Everything is fucking terrible. Things are so scary politically that it all feels impossible and hopeless. Despair becomes horror with each bit of news about the election, abortion rights, Project 2025 — pick a headline, any headline. As I write this, Biden just dropped out and endorsed Harris as the Democratic presidential nominee, a plot twist that may bring some welcome developments — or maybe it’ll backfire, and everything will continue to get worse.
Yeah, the world is frightening. But I sat on a beach in Newfoundland two weeks ago and watched humpback whales lunge feeding 15 feet from the shore. I drove across Montana in an electric rainstorm with pink and purple lightning. I ate a chilled cucumber salad made specially for me.
I witnessed two of the best people I know get married on the 25th anniversary of the day they met, and I felt how much they love each other, and their friends. I slept in a tent with my dog Archie, who smelled like flowers because he’d been frolicking in a meadow like a puppy. I woke up in my parents’ house, and drank coffee in my father’s garden from a mug that my sister gave him. I kissed my 85-year-old mother. I felt time stretch, and collapse.
What’s weird is that I feel more stable in this ephemeral state than I have in a very long time. Safer, too. I think that’s largely due to EMDR therapy, and the kind of slow release effect it’s having on me this summer. It’s no surprise that it takes time to heal, I guess, but I’m surprised! Genuinely surprised. It feels like I pulled a big old nasty piece of glass out of an infected wound, rinsed the glass off, wrapped it in a clean piece of cloth and put it in a drawer in the kitchen. Now I’m tending to the wound. And I didn’t get rid of the glass, I can look at it anytime, but it’s not buried in my body anymore. I’ve got that one nasty shard out, and I can look at the others. Turns out there are a bunch, but I’m not worried. The first was the worst. I know how to handle them now.
Another piece of feeling more stable is trusting that I have what I need to be ok, and admitting to myself that I was in a shitty relationship or two because I didn’t think I could be ok on my own. It’s a tale as old as time, right? There I was, making sandwich videos about women’s rights and female empowerment, while my own situation was very much not ok. Every time some dude slid into my comments to tell me I was going to die alone with a cat eating my eyeballs, it hurt, because it felt true on some level, like I was a decrepit skank who was lucky to get any attention at all from anyone, anyhow. It’s ridiculous to think that I was making sandwich videos while feeling that way. I’m so glad I don’t feel that way any more. I like making sandwiches for myself nowadays!
I’ve written about how my sister encouraged me to go to sea to heal my heart. Tonight, I’m heading out to sea again, outfitted with an actual life vest in addition to the metaphorical one of forgiving myself for getting into some bad situations. On this leg of my journey, I’ll be looking for the flotsam and jetsam surfacing from my slowly mending mind, and paying attention to anything else that heaves into view — a lovely nautical turn of phrase that means “slowly moving closer and becoming visible.”
On the water, I’ll remind myself that I’m strong enough to let my heart fully break and weep for the things that hurt. Then I’ll wipe my eyes and marvel at how good it is to be alive. I’m on an adventure, and no matter what happens – even if I get eaten by a shark – it’s amazing.
I’ll be writing as much as I can while I’m on the open ocean… and looking forward to saying land ho, bitches! When I get back, I’m going to make so many sandwiches.
Love you, see you soon,
Mary Jane 💙
Here’s to safe and swift winds, no sharks, and lots of happy tears. I love you so much!
I'm cheering you on!!! Have a wonderful voyage!