To Scare Yourself

Who came up with that line anyway?

“Do something everyday that scares yourself.”

When I feel the uncomfortable twang I am reminded.

It’s everyday now, although getting somewhat easier and less frequent.

Considered homeless by the Vancouver Marine Police I’ve been relocated to the North Shore for anchorage. Another week and I can go back to the False Creek shuffle.

For another two weeks.

Then I come back again.

It’s amusing in many ways. And difficult too.

I wish I had roots. Access to power. A nearby shower. Laundry.

I’ve asked the Universe. Why me? What have I done that has been so wrong?

In acceptance I have discovered. It’s not what I’ve done that’s wrong. It is the lofty goals I have set for myself.

The Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer 320km Challenge course next month.

Thank goodness it is spring and not winter!

Gingerly I plop the road bike, less the front wheel, derailer side up in the aft end of the dinghy. Gently placing the loaded panniers (complete with laptop) and front wheel in the bow.

Carefully I step to sit so I can row to shore and repeat the process.

Then it’s putting the bike together and setting off.
For what really scares me.

Riding skinny tires in Vancouver. Over the Second Narrows bridge.

Clear glasses have made a difference. Weekly brake adjustments as well.

Experience is starting to show. I can roll the hills with more confidence.

No speed wobbles. Panniers get packed to balance.

What does it make me knowing I scare myself daily?
Stronger?

Perhaps.

Or less likely to search out other ways to scare myself!

What to Do

When all around you seems in disrepair. What do you do?
Yesterday, emotions surfaced in tears. I felt angry, sad, betrayed and lost. So I said to myself – what would dad do?
I knew what he’d do. He wouldn’t give up.

So today I grew back that word “acceptance.”
It’s the way things are. They way they should be. Like what dear Uncle Len always says.

“Everything happens exactly the way it should.”
Last night I turned the music up really loud. I danced around in my small space on my boat. I ate. I did laundry. I shouted. And I cried.

I feel so much better today.

To accept what is fully.
It’s what you have to do.

N.B. I’ve spent the last eight years living on my boat. Recently I moved to Vancouver to go to school. There is VERY limited space for allowable “liveaboard” moorage.

I spend 21 days anchored out in False Creek (maximum allowable within 40 days), then pay a fortune for temporary transit moorage for 19 days.

Yesterday I was denied “temporary” winter moorage because I’m a “liveaboard.”