Guided by Her Light

Somewhere along the way, I apparently got promoted to captain of a ship I never applied to command.

And I’d like to speak to whoever was in charge of that decision.

Because I have questions.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve driven a boat before. I know how to steer. I’ve even managed to get from one place to another without hitting anything.

But there’s a pretty big difference between driving a boat on a beautiful day and suddenly being responsible for navigating the damn thing through a perfect storm.

Especially when nobody gave you a map.

Or a compass.

Or a GPS.

Seriously. A GPS would’ve been helpful.

Instead, here I am, standing at the wheel, looking out at an ocean I don’t recognize, wondering who the hell thought I was qualified for this position.

And the GPS I apparently ordered from the bargain bin keeps announcing:

Recalculating.

Recalculating WHAT?

I don’t even know where we’re going.

Let’s Discuss the Compensation Package

Before we go any further, I’d like to discuss the terms of my employment.

Because apparently, this position is volunteer.

That’s right. No salary. No benefits. No paid vacation.

And absolutely no hazard pay.

Which seems a little unreasonable considering the working conditions.

I’m navigating a perfect storm, managing an emotionally exhausted crew, making decisions without a training manual, and apparently I’m on call 24 hours a day.

The emotional overtime alone should qualify me for some kind of compensation.

So naturally, I submitted a request to HR.

Hazard pay: Denied.

Additional vacation time: Denied.

Mental health days: Pending review.

Transfer to a less stressful department: No positions available.

And the best part?

I DIDN’T EVEN VOLUNTEER FOR THIS JOB!

Apparently, somewhere in the fine print of life’s employment agreement, it says:

Other duties as assigned.

Well, I’d like to know who assigned them.

Because I’d like a word.

Preferably somewhere on a beach.

With a cocktail.

And absolutely no responsibilities.

Wait a Minute. I’ve Been Captain Before.

Here’s the irony of this whole situation.

I used to be fiercely independent.

And I mean fiercely.

I was proud of being able to take care of myself. I liked making my own decisions. I liked knowing that whatever life threw at me, I could figure it out.

I didn’t want to rely on anyone else.

Maybe some of that came from growing up with divorced parents. Maybe watching a marriage end taught me, without anyone ever saying the words, that I needed to know how to stand on my own.

Or maybe I’ve just always been stubborn.

The Reflection Department is still investigating.

But then I fell in love.

And somewhere along the way, I went from being captain of my own ship to becoming the first mate.

And let me tell you, that transition did not come easily.

I remember the anxiety of realizing I needed to rely on someone else. That I couldn’t necessarily do everything on my own anymore.

For someone who had always taken pride in her independence, that was a big adjustment.

At first, it wasn’t even a relief.

But eventually, I began to appreciate having someone beside me to share the burdens of life.

Someone to make decisions with. Someone to build a future with. Someone who was supposed to be there for the journey.

And over time, that became familiar.

Nearly 30 years of familiar.

But looking back, I find myself asking a question I didn’t know to ask back then.

Why did I believe that becoming someone’s partner meant giving up so much of my independence?

We could have navigated together.

We could have shared the responsibilities without either of us having to surrender our place at the wheel.

I didn’t have to stop being captain of my own life to be part of a marriage.

I just didn’t fully understand