STORMY WATERS AHEAD
For sailing couple Danielle and Conor, when illness suddenly struck they had to find a way to talk and navigate their way back to the ocean.
In 24 hours from writing this article, I will be setting off to sail 1,200 nautical miles from New Zealand to Fiji, a journey I had envisioned, but not under these circumstances and certainly not without my husband.
My husband Conor and I met in 2010 in Eastern Ukraine. We both had a history of extensive travel in multiple continents. It was a perfect match. We quickly fell for each other and ended up moving to Colorado where we both got our Master’s degrees and made plans for our next travels to New Zealand.
The trip was supposed to be for only a few months, but an internship turned into a job, which turned into permanent residency, and now soon to be citizens.
But it wasn’t all a smooth ride. Conor rode his motorbike to work every day and got hit twice in the space of a year. While recovering at home he found YouTube channels made by people who were sailing around the world and supporting themselves by creating content. I loved the idea, and over the course of the next 18 months, we sold everything and packed up our life, preparing to take off sailing full time.
On 25 December, 2020, we started our trip sailing around New Zealand. It was the most magical, scary, thrilling, intense and unbelievable experience. We stayed on islands where you could see your anchor several metres down, sailed alongside dolphins, paddled into caves, and saw a pod of orca! But in the last two months of sailing, Conor slowly became very sick. On 9 June, 2020, our world turned upside down when he was rushed to the hospital. He spent the next few months having treatment. We didn’t make it back to our sailboat until five months later, and by then, the boat had been closed up for so long that the moisture had destroyed most of our belongings.
Maybe it was my way of processing everything, handling the despair, or not feeling so alone, but with my husband’s consent, I started to document the process on our YouTube channel, ‘Sailing Pivo’. Through the videos, I was able to connect with hundreds of others who went through something similar.
It is a community for which I am hugely grateful!
When his treatment was coming to an end, my husband made it clear that he no longer wanted to sail. He’d had enough adventure with the hospital visits, and he dreaded the idea of going back to non-stop boat repairs, anchor alarms and storms. He wanted to move back to the city, go back to work and buy a house ... everything we had left behind.
A HARD CHOICE
I understood, but for me sailing had brought part of me back to life that had died in the years before. There is nothing like being at the helm of the boat, heading upwind, smashing into waves, and navigating tight waters. The thrill is unlike anything else, and it is something I had been missing in life.
My husband and I were caught in a conundrum. The tragedy of his illness was ending, but we had a seemingly huge barrier in front of us.
We had learned a lot in the eight months dealing with his sickness. It’s when you reach rock bottom, have nothing left to give, and find yourself in the middle of a panic attack with your main support unable to help, that two very important lessons ‘click’: you are nothing to anyone if your needs aren’t being met. Not all of them and not all the time, but you cannot give 100 per cent of yourself and not reach a point where there is nothing left to give. Your time frame might be different to mine, but needs are needs. Not wants.
And secondly ... you have to self-validate and self-soothe. Conor was my rock for so long. But in the middle of everything, there were things he couldn’t see, couldn’t process, or didn’t understand as he was still in the thick of it.
He blamed me for things that were no one’s fault, just a horrible situation that is painful to experience. And I couldn’t lean on him to validate me, to soothe me. I had to rely on
Reported benefits of sailing include boosting serotonin and dopamine.
“SAILING HAD BROUGHT PART OF ME BACK TO LIFE.”
myself and trust my instinct and judgement. Once he was better, I told Conor I wanted to go on a short sailing trip. He was keen to support me and he also wanted some time apart to think. The trip opened my eyes to Conor’s concerns. Everything that he was worried about happened ... dragged anchor, huge waves, navigating dangerous channels.
I could definitely see why he wouldn’t want to go back to it.
But I also saw how renewed and alive I felt. And we both felt our sense of individual identity coming back. Over the past few years, we had spent 100 per cent of our time together and we had no individual identity left.
Often, we get these ideas in our heads about giving ourselves completely to our jobs, our married lives, our children. And all of those things deserve our attention, but when you hit rock bottom, you realise you cannot also go without your individual unique needs being unmet for so long. It eats away at your soul.
So when I got back, we talked; we compromised and we planned and this year, we celebrate 12 years together and six married. Would I take away the pain he experienced? In a heartbeat! Would I take away my own? Not if it meant giving up the lessons I walked away with.