Short version for busy folk – 50% from Which Way is Starboard Again? book sales will now go to the New Zealand Mental Health Foundation – you can get it here for $19.99
Reading the stories generated by Mental Health Awareness Week has been both inspiring and depressing.
It has been inspiring to see the strength of those living with mental illness and speaking out about it to remove the stigma, and depressing to hear about the state New Zealand’s mental health system is now in – particularly for young people.
I was lucky enough to receive excellent support when diagnosed with OCD, anxiety and depression as a teen (20 years ago) through the 198 Youth Health Centre in Christchurch (now 298 Youth Health) and the Youth Specialty Services there. I read a story in the Sunday Star Times about a Ministry of Health target that 95% of youth referred to mental health services have their first treatment within eight weeks. Thousands assessed as ‘non urgent’ are waiting longer than that. I honestly don’t think I would be here (or at least who I am) if I had to wait that long.
I know there isn’t a huge amount one person can do to help. If I wasn’t certain I would take it all home with me I would retrain and join the mental health profession.
What I do have though is a book.
A book about living with mental health issues and going outside your comfort zone. A book about bumbling around the South Pacific on a boat and the amazing people we met there. A book that people living with anxiety issues have told me made them smile (which is by far the best review I could ever hope for) and a book I hope I can use to raise a little bit of money and awareness for mental health services in New Zealand.
So I’m now working with the awesome people at New Zealand’s Mental Health Foundation to see if I can make that happen.
From now on, from every copy of Which Way is Starboard Again? bought through me for $19.99 50% will go to the Mental Health Foundation.
You can buy them here
or if you don’t use PayPal just drop me a line at whichwayisstarboardagain@gmail.com and we can sort something out.
The Mental Health Foundation will also be selling the book through their website and I’ll share the link when I get it.
So if you are interested or know anyone else who might be – point them our way. We would love your support.
Last mental health awareness week I recycled my coming out of the cray cray closet blog but a lot has happened between then and now so I think it’s time for a new one.
One of the drawbacks of writing a book about being a functioning nutbar is that it puts a whole lot of pressure on you to be exactly that.
You’ve just gone and revealed your biggest weakness to a bunch of strangers.You have told people they can get through it because you have gotten through it. You’ve told them you’re okay so you have to be okay. Otherwise you’re a big fat fraud.
The funny thing is I was okay. Everything was going great. I’d had a book published, I’d made my dream come true. I’d been getting all sorts of great feedback, I’d been in the paper and on the radio, I’d done a bit of public speaking. My life was full and busy, but it was full of good things. There was absolutely no excuse for my brain to break.
In hindsight the warning signs were there. Things had been going so well for so long that I had slipped back into bad habits, I was staying up too late, drinking far too much coffee and having energy drinks for breakfast. Then I was wondering why I wasn’t sleeping. I was permanently wired – jumpy, paranoid, clenching my teeth and counting on my fingertips (an old OCD habit). I was getting slack about remembering to take my meds.
It’s exhausting being on edge all the time. Eventually you are going to crack – and I did quite spectacularly.
It had been a great day. I’d caught up with some very dear friends who were visiting from overseas. It was lovely and sunny so we started the day with a boozy brunch and went from there. We ended up back on the boat that evening. We had a brilliant catch up and loads of fun. Then everyone went home – and I kept drinking (I’m not a big drinker so this is quite unusual for me). I had decided I wanted to turn my brain off and that was how I was going to do it. When Paddy tried to get me to stop I shut myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine (again, this is not normal behavior for me).
The night ended with me lying on the floor of the boat screaming unintelligibly and refusing to move. It have been quite frightening for poor Paddy. Eventually I crawled into bed, freezing cold, and passed out.
No surprises that the next morning I felt awful. But it was a frighteningly familiar kind of awful – the thick, black hole in my stomach told me this was no ordinary hangover.
I spent the day alternating between feeling like my heart was going to pound out of my throat and just feeling leaden. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I felt empty and numb.
I finally had to admit it to myself – I was not okay.
I talked with Paddy, who had noticed I hadn’t been ‘present’ for a while. Like I was going through the motions but I wasn’t really there. It was such a relief to finally admit it.
It is so important to let people know when you are not okay, but it can be a massively hard thing to do. When I was a teen living with mental illness I didn’t know how to. I have a letter a friend wrote me when I was about 15 that I keep to remind me how important it is to communicate. It says “it’s like you are lying on the floor crying out in pain but not telling anyone where it hurts.” I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. But for the first time my friend got me thinking about how what was going on with me was affecting other people. I thought by bottling it up and keeping it to myself I was protecting my friends from having to deal with the mess in my head, what I didn’t realise was that what I was doing was even more frustrating and confusing. It took a long time and a lot of trial and error before I felt safe and comfortable sharing with people I cared about, but it was definitely the best thing for all of us.
So here I was admitting defeat and calling in the professionals. I called in sick at work the next day (one of the few times I have ever let myself do that for because of my mental illness) and visited my GP. I would have had no qualms taking the day off if I had the flu or a tummy bug but, despite my preaching in print, this was so much different. I couldn’t possibly show that kind of weakness, what if people thought I wasn’t going to be able to do my job?
There was no choice really. I had to go private. I could have gone into the public system but would have ended up on a waiting list – and when you are a sweating, shaking, twitchy mess, a waiting list just isn’t going to cut it. I was lucky,I could afford it. So many people can’t and that’s so wrong. I won’t start ranting about the state of our mental health system or I won’t stop, but I will say everyone needs access to this type of lifeline. There are good public services out there – they just need money and support so they are available to everyone, everywhere in the country.
My nerves about talking with my work about things proved utterly unfounded. They were great, and totally fine with me leaving an hour early once a week to take my brain in for a tuneup.
So I sat down with the head doc to see what we could do. We decided not to mess with the meds because they seemed to be doing their job, it was just me being rubbish about taking them. Instead we tried to unpack some things. We talked about what was going on in my life and every time I went down a new tangent she would gesture towards the carpet and mime putting something down. ‘Okay we’ll put this one in that basket and come back to it later. By the time we were done I was convinced she was going to run out of space on the floor for all the imaginary baskets.
“So basically you’re saying I’m a basket case then,” I dad-joked. This was to set the tone for most of my visits. We would talk about stuff, I would get uncomfortable and start cracking jokes. By session three she worked out we weren’t getting anywhere. Every time we scratched a surface I would throw walls up by trying to make her laugh.
In the end she said to me “you seem to have a real problem with having a mental illness”. I was outraged. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve written a book about having a mental illness, I tell people there is nothing to be ashamed of because, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Of course I don’t have a problem with having a mental illness!”
But I had to be brutally honest with myself – I did. I had to be okay because I had told the world I was okay. I’d told everyone that battling with your own brain does not make you weak – but I wasn’t drinking my own Koolaid. Do as I say don’t do as I do. It’s okay not to be okay, but not for me.
Realising that was a turning point for me. I actually started working on things. We reached a natural conclusion where most of the baskets were empty or at least only part full. I was looking after myself, taking breathers, easing up on the coffee and booze and getting my medication levels up again.
I still get twitchy at times but I am on top of it now. I’m enjoying life and I’m healthy again.
I guess my messsage is- and it really is – it’s okay not to be okay. The busiest, toughest, most outspoken of us are all allowed not to be okay and realising you aren’t okay is the first step towards fixing it – no matter how many invisible baskets you have to use.
PS – this is not a recipe to follow for everyone by any means. Talk therapy works for some people and it doesn’t for others, medication works for some people and doesn’t for others, exercise, getting out in nature, eating and drinking healthy -it’s the same deal. I find a combination of all three – meds, talking and making time to get out and about works for me, but none work on their own. It’s a process of trial and error and whatever works for you is totally legitimate.
Six months ago I lost my idol. The man very much responsible for me being me. I was devastated at the time and so was much of the world. David Bowie was such a huge part of so many lives – it was impossible to believe that someone who was so brave, intelligent and downright magical could be gone.
I said everything I needed to say in a blog I wrote at the time but what I didn’t share was a tattoo I got two weeks after.
It didn’t seem right at the time, the internet was wall to wall Bowie and it just seemed a bit soon and a bit twee. I got it for me, it was part of my grieving process and I wasn’t ready to share it with the world.
It all just sort of came together. The idea popped into my head fully formed while I was talking to my Mum on the phone. I wanted the black star from his final goodbye album, but that on its own was too dark for me.
Then the Aladdin Sane lightning bolt flashed through my mind, cutting across the star.
It represented everything that was sparkly and spiky and magical about him, that was it. That was my tattoo.
A friend of mine recommended a tattooist (Craigy at Union Tattoo) who just happened to have a cancellation, so what I was expecting to wait a while for happened within two weeks.
(Unfortunately the only decent pic I have of it is the one taken just after it was done. Have you ever tried to photograph your own wrist?)
It’s only little but it’s perfect. It makes me sad, but it also makes me feel strong and I smile every time I look at it.
It also turns out to have a very practical purpose.
I wanted the design on my wrist but didn’t really think too much about which one. In the end I just went with the one I didn’t wear a watch or fitness tracker on. It wasn’t until I was doing pilates (yes I do pilates – I may not be particularly good at it but I do it!) and I was having my usual issues of working out left from right, that I suddenly thought – I can use my tattoo!
It turns out it’s on my right side – my starboard side. I suddenly had an epiphany – I have a star on my starboard side. I wrote a book called Which Way is Starboard Again? and Bowie has answered that question for me forever!
Next time I’m out sailing, if a boat is heading towards Bowie I’ll know to keep clear.
I also conducted my own nerdy celebration of Bowie on the six month anniversary by helping orchestrate an augmented reality tribute. Before there was Pokemon Go there was Ingress (and before that Geocaching) – both are GPS based games that get you out amongst public art and sculptures and places of significance. My Dad got me into both, being a retired airforce navigator and fascinated with that sort of stuff.
I won’t go into too much detail but basically two warring teams united to create a digital lightning bolt across Lyall Bay.
The details are here (you don’t have to understand the lingo – the pictures say it all.)
Bowie was always an early adopter of new technology – I like to think he’d get a kick out of it.
I’ll end on a quote from a book I have recently read – Simon Critchley’s On Bowie, which sums him up perfectly for me.
“Bowie has been my soundtrack. My constant, clandestine companion. In good times and bad. Mine and his.
What’s striking is that I don’t think I’m alone in this view. There is a world of people for whom Bowie was the being who permitted a powerful emotional connection and freed them to become some other kind of self, something freer, more queer, more honest, more open, more exciting…He was someone who made life a little less ordinary for an awfully long time.”
PS. SHAMELESS PRODUCT PLACEMENT! Which Way is Starboard Again? the book is on sale $19.99 for blog readers. Free postage within NZ
Just a quick blog to say hallelujah the boat is back in the water!
It’s taken a lot longer than we anticipated – for reasons that shall be explained in another blog – and it is a massive relief to finally have our lives back again.
What was meant to take a few weeks stretched to a couple of months, with daylight savings a real spanner in the works, but we got there in the end. I also discovered a ‘talent’ I never knew I had – boat artiste!
When we hauled Wildflower out of the water she was a bit rusty and crusty and definitely needed some TLC
Part of that was sanding back the nobbly bits on the hull and paint it with a rust preventer, which left her a little bit splodgy.
Then I discovered one of the splodges looked a bit like the Loch Ness Monster – so I just added a few more details…
Nessie
Then along came Harry Potter
Yer a wizard Wildflower!
We painted all through Easter weekend so the Easter Bunny came to visit
And, not my best work, but it had to be done
Once we moved on to the anti-foul I was able to apply some lippy
I also spent a bit of time inside the bilge with a torch twisting myself into strange positions. It was while doing this that I learned a valuable lesson. If you are going to hold a torch in your mouth because you need both hands it pays to check it for paint first. Also, boat paint doesn’t taste nice.
Then we had to cover all my lovely artwork up!
Well at least I know it’s there!
So now we are floating again. Something we haven’t done for a while, and it feels good!
So, rather ironically given I work in communications for a living, it turns out I am a bit of a rubbish self promoter. I need to try harder to let people know Which Way is Starboard Again? the book is out there.
To that end I have spruced up the blog and transferred it from the basic seamunchkin.wordpress.co to seamunchkin.com. If you already follow the blog your subscription has been transferred and nothing will change – it just means it’s easier to share and buy through the website.
I’ve put up a page about the book here and even have a dinky PayPal button
which you can also access here for people who would like to buy signed copies with special messages directly from me.
All the Facebook, Twitter, G+ links have been updated and I’ll put a redirect on the original blog so, other than the new look, it’s pretty much business as usual.
So if anyone you know is interested in reading about sailing, anxiety, projectile vomiting and ant wars I would really appreciate it if you could point them this way.
Thanks for bearing with me – back to your regularly scheduled programming!
I’m packing up my house at the moment. There’s an exciting and scary and stressful and wonderful reason why I am, which I will write about once I’m done (and no it’s not the next sailing trip yet. Unfortunately El No No won that particular battle).
I couldn’t have picked a worse time to pack up my house – the boat is out of the water and demanding attention, Paddy and I are both busy with work and all sorts of other things keep getting in the way, but that’s the way it is.
Packing up my house and my life has also thrown up an added complication. It’s making me want to write. I’ve had a block for ages but now I keep finding things and thinking things and seeing things that make me want to stop and scribble. Of course I can’t – the best I can do is make notes and hope it will all still be there when I get a chance to stop.
I did find something tonight though that I really have to share. I have to share it because I have been witnessing people struggling with stepping back and seeing themselves for who they really are lately – both in the real world and online. People who don’t have the perspective right now to see that they are great.
It’s a silly thing and I haven’t really known why I kept it until now.
Back in the 90s when I left high school I was given a “work skills and personal skills” statement. It was basically a summary of a bunch of comments from my teachers about what sort of person I was. It was pretty quirky and informal and I suspect they don’t do things this way any more, but it made me smile so I kept it.
In my last year of high school I was going through a lot of crap. Normal teenage angst compounded with learning to accept and deal with having a mental illness. It was something only my family and closest friends knew about. When I think back I picture a scared, stressed out drama queen trying to cover up everything by being loud and cracking jokes. What I didn’t see then, and what I am only just starting to see now, was the strong, tough young woman trying to find her place in the world and not giving up when things got hard.
That was what my teachers saw.
Here are a couple of passages that will give you an idea of what I mean (an also a bit of an insight into what a stroppy little shit I was). The emphasis is mine.
“Anna has a very independent, individualistic approach to life and asserts her personality through rather unorthodox but quite spectacular means such as her frequent and eye-catching changes of attire. Although she has an idiosyncratic approach to life in general and school in particular, her ideas and behaviour are always positive rather than negative and narrow-minded. She is not influenced by currently popular fashions or fads and presents herself to the world as she wants, not as she thinks she should.
Anna’s unorthodox approach and her witty, ironic personality means that she gets on well with a wide range of students, some of whom tend to regard her as an iconic figure around the school. Although she always speaks her mind (often forcefully and at some length) she is sensitive to the opinions of others, in fact, she is very interested in other opinions, even if she disagrees with them entirely.”
Teenage Anna was strong and stroppy and entirely herself. She was actually pretty awesome – it’s just a shame she didn’t realise it at the time.
I never thought I’d say this, but I actually aspire to be my teenage self again.
This is a weird sort of a blog, but I guess it’s a message to other teenage (and adult) me’s out there. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in negative perceptions of yourself and not step back and see the person you actually are. Sometimes it takes an outsider’s perspective (even if it is nearly 20 years too late).
It’s too easy in the panic and the stress and the pain to overlook all the good that you are. You don’t see what your teachers see, what your friends and your family see.
So please, just bear with my self-help hippy crap for a minute. Just take a step back, breathe and actually see yourself. You are pretty awesome.
Monster Weather Pattern! Horror Summer! The Godzilla Cthulu Sauron El Nino of 2015!- I’ve been putting off blogging about this because I haven’t wanted to jinx anything, but there appears to be no escaping this behemoth, and the accompanying headlines.
The Listener not helping my neurosis
I feel a bit selfish worrying about this. I’m not a drought stricken farmer or an islander waiting to get walloped – but the El Nino (or El No No as I have dubbed it) is certainly putting a spanner in our works.
Next year is supposed to be the year we climb aboard Wildflower and head out into the wild blue again. It’s the excited note I ended my book on, it’s what the next book (which I have already started writing) will be about – and there’s a good chance it might be put on hold.
Even though we won’t be leaving until mid year, we have to make a call by February so we can wrap up jobs, sort out my flat and get the boat ready. If Godzilla Cthulu Sauron is still lurking about by then, then the answer will be no.
We seem to attract annoying weather patterns. On our last trip we struck El No No’s opposite, a La Nina. The biggest problem with that though was a lack of wind, meaning we ended up spending much more than we had planned on diesel.
El No No goes to the other extreme. It is possible to sail in one, but the winds are stronger – strong enough to change things from ‘rather uncomfortable’ to ‘really bloody uncomfortable’. Ever since our wretched passage to Tonga Paddy has been trying to convince me that open water sailing can actually be quite pleasant. El No No seems to want to make a liar of him.
The other thing an El Nino can do is mess with the direction of the trade winds. Again, you can sail in this – you just need to change your angle, but the problems lie when you reach your destination. The majority of the anchorages in the islands are set up to be sheltered from the trade winds, if the winds start blowing in the opposite direction then shelter is much harder to come by and you are likely to be spending a lot of your time in bouncy, uncomfortable spots. Since we’re not complete gluttons for punishment, this doesn’t really appeal.
Of course it could have all blown over by the time we are ready to leave, but the problem is it is impossible to know. There’s so much to organise, we should be organising it now, but its hard to know when to invest the energy. I’m nervous as all get out anyway and don’t feel like I am ready yet, but committing to getting ready is only partially possible when we can’t commit to the fact we are going.
It lacks the adventure and sense of achievement but it really is so much easier to plan a trip when you are just climbing aboard a plane. As Paddy says, nothing goes to windward like a 747.
Our last trip was the big one for Paddy, he was able to prove that he and his boat were tough enough to make it round the South Pacific. This time we don’t have anything to prove, we know we can do it. This time we are going to take our time to enjoy it, to spend more time in places we like with people we like. I’m afraid I’m not up for the whole ‘heroic suffering’ thing.
I feel like a real spoil sport stressing out about all this, but Paddy told me the other night that the aim of the whole exercise was to enjoy it. He said he was prepared to wait until the conditions (and the neurotic crew) were ready – and that is a huge relief to me.
If feel like a bit of a fraud. I’ve told the world the next adventure will be 2016, but I honestly don’t know.
It’s really hard to keep your head in anything when you don’t know. I have my OCD under control but I still have a few hangovers. I want to know what is happening, when it is going to happen and how, then I can plan and get it sorted in my head. This limbo situation is the worst kind of torture for a control freak like me!
So I will be keeping a close eye on El No No and I’ll keep you guys updated closer to crunch time. In the meantime a few less Godzillas in the headlines would be much appreciated!
(Sorry for taking so long to post these on here – life and lurghies kind of got in the way.)
Last month I ended up sharing more information about myself over the radio than anyone could possibly want to know.
The Nutters Club is a late night show that runs from 11pm to 1am on Newstalk ZB. Hosted by comedian Mike King, it describes itself as being a show about “Nutters helping other Nutters live at peace with themselves and others, so that we can all lead meaningful lives.”
The show’s producer had read Which Way is Starboard Again? picked up on the mental health angle and invited me on to talk about living with obsessive compulsive disorder and anxiety.
I was absolutely terrified, but the guys were great and made me feel as relaxed as I possibly could. Mike is a media personality who has been very open about his battle with mental health issues so he was a great to talk to and his co-host Malcolm Falconer, a really laid back and switched on psychologist, helped chill me out before and during the show.
Malcolm’s website psychd.co.nz has links to all sorts of useful and interesting stuff.
Nutters – Mike King and I
Once I got over the ums and the nervous giggling I think I did alright – although I did end up calling Paddy an old bastard on national radio. Mike kept talking about Starboard being the story of ‘a young woman meeting a young man with a boat’ – after about the 3rd reference I blurted out ‘actually, he’s not that young!’ explaining that there is a bit of an age gap between us. Poor Paddy! He says he still loves me.
So here’s part 1 – I’ll forgive them for misspelling my name, it’s all good publicity!
And if you are still awake after that, here’s part two. One of the best things of the second part of the interview was an amazing lady who rang in. She was 48 years old and had only been diagnosed with OCD and anxiety at age 44. I can only imagine how difficult things had been for her for many years. She rang to thank me for speaking about living with anxiety. She said she still had a way to go but that listening to me sounding so confident gave her hope. Now I’m not the poster child for getting through these sort of things. I still have my moments and no doubt I will have more in the future – but it was an amazing feeling to be able to help at least one person see that there is light at the end of the tunnel
One of the things some people who were listening to the show at the time (and I was really surprised at how many people actually are listening to the radio at that time on a Sunday night/morning) complained about were the ads, and I can definitely see how they would be irritating to listen to, but I have now seen it from the other side and for me it was actually the opposite. I found the ads were an immense relief, because it gave me a breather from constant babbling.
Because the show finished so late they put me up in a hotel near Newstalk ZB and the suite came with a complimentary bottle of wine. I had a few hours to kill before go-time but tried my best to resist the urge to drink the nerves away – I figured turning up sozzled probably wouldn’t be a good look. In the end I caved and had one medicinal glass, then put the bottle out of sight. By the time I got back from the interview though I was completely wired. It was 2am and I was wide awake, so I poured myself another. Then I remembered my good friend and primo cook Janie (who I had stayed with the night before) had packed me off with chocolate brownies to help me make it through the night. So there I was at 2am on a Sunday sitting by myself in a hotel room, glass of wine in one hand and chocolate brownie in the other, partying like an author.
Disclaimer: I was in bed and fast asleep pretty much 10 minutes later – rock and roll!
The response from people who have read Which Way is Starboard Again? the book has been nothing short of amazing, but there are still a couple of reactions that I struggle with.
One is ‘you’re so brave’ and the other ‘I could never do that’
Firstly, I’m not brave. I’m terrified of everything – cars, loud noises, sudden movements, having to call strangers on the phone. I’m the biggest scaredy-cat out, I’m just really good at bluffing. Yes I did something that was pretty scary, but you know what? Most of the time I was doing it, I was pretty scared!
The second statement I can understand a bit more. If anyone had told me a few years ago that I would willingly spend days being tossed about the middle of the ocean in a tin tub rather than catch a plane to the tropics I would have told them to lay off the wacky backy.
The thing is you never know how you are going to react to a situation until it presents itself and you can be surprised at what you are actually prepared and are able to do. I highly suspect that given the same opportunity the people saying ‘I could never do that’ would do it, and do it well.
When I was at a low ebb Paddy would tell me that being brave wasn’t just about not being scared, it was about continuing to function despite being frightened, about not letting fear stop you. I didn’t feel particularly brave at the time, but I think there might be a grain of truth in that. There is definitely something rewarding about getting through the rough stuff and out the other side.
Funny thing is, the scariest part of it all for me wasn’t the crashing and the bashing and the splashing, it was afterwards. It was writing the book. It was talking about mental health.
I almost didn’t mention the Battle of the Brain, I was writing a humorous travel book after all, I didn’t want to bring the reader down. But gradually I realised that my anxiety was part of the story and part of me, and that leaving it out would have just been a lie.
Another reason I outed myself publicly was to let other people know that there is nothing wrong with being a highly functioning nutbar.
I said to myself, “if one 15-year-old me picks this up and realises they aren’t alone and that it will be okay, then this will be worth it.”
I got that confirmation at the weekend.
One of the great things about working for a teachers union is that you get to spend time with teachers and learn about the work they are doing to help guide the next generation through it all. I was chatting with a teacher who was reading parts of Starboard out to her Social Studies class and she told me they were really enjoying it. Apparently they particularly liked the parts that I found the scariest to write – about being different, accepting that you are that way and being honest about who you are to yourself and others. Apparently they were having discussions about this. They were the 15-year-old me I had vainly hoped to reach and they were having the conversations I was too afraid to have when I was their age. If nothing else comes from this book other than that I am happy, I have succeeded.
And now I’m off to put my head in the lion’s mouth again. This weekend I am going to spend a couple of hours on the radio talking about being a fruitbat. I will be the guest on Newstalk ZB’s Nutters Club , hosted by Mike King.
It’s a late night talk show that runs from about 11pm Sunday to 1am Monday where a comedian, a psychologist and a guest blather on and take calls about being a bit doolally. The premise of the show is “Nutters helping other Nutters live at peace with themselves and others, so that we can all lead meaningful lives” – I like that, and hope I can do it justice and not become a nervous blithering idiot. Wish me luck!
(Now that the book excitement has settled a bit I can finally get around to finishing the blog about our Tasman Bay trip)
Sometimes you can scare the pants off yourself over things. They build up as big bogies in your mind and you freak yourself out over them, regardless of how much logic tells you they aren’t an issue.
Other times you don’t bat an eyelid at something and it comes to bite you on the bum.
Both those things happened on the way to Nelson.
Scary thing number 1 was Cyclone Pam, which was due to pass near New Zealand. Despite the fact that I was repeatedly assured it would come nowhere near where we were I managed to wind myself up about it.
I call it ‘getting the flutteries’ – not to belittle the anxiety, but to give it a little less power. “I’m having a fluttery” sounds a lot friendlier than “My heart is trying to eat its way out through my throat” – and making it that little bit smaller, makes it a little easier to cope.
Sure enough, despite the flutteries, the worst thing that happened was we were held up for a few days in the Sounds – and that is something I am not going to complain about given what happened in Vanuatu.
The Ni-vans were some of the loveliest, most welcoming people we met in the islands and it was heartbreaking to see their homes and livelihoods destroyed. There are a lot of relief efforts and fundraising going on and I sincerely hope the support is getting to the people who need it most.
Waiting for Pam to blow over – Bay of Many Coves
Scary thing number 2 was travelling through French Pass. French Pass (or Te Aumiti) is a narrow stretch of water with the dubious distinction of having the fastest tidal flows in New Zealand (up to 8 knots). Apparently when the tide changes the current can be strong enough to stun fish. Paddy tells a story about people dropping 44 gallon drums into the pass from D’Urville Island, just to watch them get sucked down and spat back out like sky rockets. If that’s not scary enough, it also has whirlpools. Yes, whirlpools.
Whirlpools.
This is why when travelling through the pass you have to get your timing absolutely perfect. You need to make sure you enter at slack tide when the current is at its weakest and that way you only get pushed about a little bit.
We’d done it before successfully, but that didn’t stop me freaking myself out over it. And, as with the cyclone, nothing happened. It was a little unnerving feeling 18 odd tonnes of steel being pushed about like a feather in the wind, but we crossed without incident.
Swirly, whirly French PassAnd this was at slack tide!
The second part of this blog is brought to you (once again) by the Weather Forecasters Are Lying Bastards channel.
One thing I didn’t even think about freaking out over was the trip into Nelson. It would be a simple day sail and the weather forecast was for pretty much no wind at all.
At first that was exactly what happened. We got a bit of a headwind but it was still on an angle we could sail on. After a while the wind built up and we actually found ourselves sailing quite fast.
We were hooning about with our headsail until the headwind got a little too strong and eyeballing the water was making me a bit nervous.
We took the sail down only to get a mad case of the wobblies. What we hadn’t factored in before we left was that Nelson was a lot more tidal than Wellington. Tides can get up to four meters, so it was quite a bit of water we were pushing against.
Wildflower was rolling from side to side and I started to feel a little bit scared. Deep down I knew that we were safe and that we would get there eventually but it certainly wasn’t very much fun.
I tried to tell myself that people paid good money for this kind of experience at amusement parks, but it really wasn’t helping.
Paddy reminded me that we went through much worse on the way to Tonga and handled it – and that went on for days, not hours. That actually helped. I tried to remind myself I was a big brave lion and could handle this.
I did everything I needed to helping put the sails away and then – once we sussed out steering was going to be a one man job – braced myself at the bottom off the cockpit and tried not to spew.
It was a good chance to give my anxiety coping skills an airing. The problem with having any kind of disorder that flares up from time to time rather than being constant is that when you aren’t feeling awful, the last thing you want to do is think about feeling awful and so you tend to be a bit slack about practicing how to cope if the awful arises.
Before we went away on our trip I knew there was a chance of an attack of the flutteries so I sat down with the Anxiety and Phobia Workbook (one of the best anxiety books I have come across) and gave myself a crash refresher on breathing exercises, self-talk and visualisation.
One of the tricks is to visualise a calm, safe scene. I have two – one for summer and one for winter. In the summer one I am swimming in a calm bay. The water is tropical temperature and I have gills, so I can dive under the water and mooch around with tropical fishies without having to worry about running out of breath. In the winter one I am sitting by a fireplace, it is warm and toasty, I am safe and sheltered, I have a good book and a cat snuggled up with me. At that stage I went with the fireplace one.
It sounds a bit silly, but it does actually work.
My calm scene was broken repeatedly however by things crashing and smashing.
Because we’re a bit out of practice and weren’t expecting weather, we hadn’t really stowed everything away properly – which meant books, plates and cooking products went flying across the boat.
It made a lot of scary noises but the only real casualty was a full bottle of sesame oil which emptied itself all through the boat.
We managed to put the culprit – and other condiments – in the sink but the smelly genie was out of the bottle at that point, and I spent the rest of the rolly trip trying not to vomit while inhaling very strong sesame fumes.
I think I may have developed a temporary allergy – I didn’t end up losing my lunch but even the thought of sesame makes me feel a little delicate now.
All’s well that ends well though – we got into Nelson marina, my fabulous knot tying skills secured the fenders (buoys that act as boat bumpers) and we managed to berth the boat with just the two of us.
The AftermathRather apt sign on the door at Nelson Marina
We spend a few days in Nelson as enforced rest for my sprained ankle. In Paddy’s words we were “waiting for Big Foot to have two regular sized feet”.
We moved from there to Torrent Bay in the Abel Tasman which was absolutely lovely. Even Gus the SpokesMuppet got a day at the beach. He discovered Fraggle Rock and irritated Paddy. Here are some photos.
Captain on the golden sandsDance your cares awayWorries for another dayLet the music playDown in Fraggle Rock!View from Able Tasman walkwayWe were very jealous of this dinghy – you can drive it right up onto the beach!‘SupGus: Paddy, Hey Paddy! Whatcha doing Paddy? Paddy: Sigh…
