Managing Yourself

If you experience depression and anxiety generally, how will moving onto a boat or traveling full time by RV affect you?

And if you’re normally mentally healthy, do you worry that the stress of nomadic life might cause you to suffer a bout of depression or anxiety?

I don’t know all the answers. But after a lifelong acquaintance with mental illness, I’ll give you a few things to think about. And some ways to find a glimmer of hope when you’re feeling low or stressed.

How Will Nomad Life Affect Your Mental Health

I ask myself one question every time I set out on a new activity: “If I start feeling strongly depressed or anxious, will everything go wrong?”

Sadly, I have a long list of activities I’ve failed to accomplish because I couldn’t push myself through the darkness to work on them. (And yes, I also know that focusing on past failures is itself a symptom of depression.)

So you can imagine the self-questioning I subjected myself to before selling our house, darn near all our stuff, and moving into a boat that I had very little experience sailing.

Imagine my surprise to discover how cruising on a sailboat actually affected my levels of depression and anxiety. Perhaps you’d find the same.

Decrease your depression and anxiety

A life of travel in a small vehicle or vessel might just help you feel better.

After all, nomadic travel life involves

• more time out in nature
• living a life of purpose instead of doing what others expect of you
• engaging your body and your mind in new activities
• opportunities to help your traveling community
• learning new skills

When I lived in a dirt house, I spent every possible moment outside. The instant the temperature rose enough to make sitting comfortable, I turned my front porch into my office. But I spend more time outside in the cockpit when I’m onboard Meander.

As an extrovert, I’ve found helping other cruisers particularly meaningful. Even when my messy boat keeping brought a measure of stress to an emergency on the water.

I’m always on the lookout for boaters who need help landing on a dock in high winds. Or making sure unexpected noises aren’t the result of someone else’s hull scraping against a piling.

For the most part, I found living on a boat and cruising decreased my depression and anxiety to a significant degree. Cruising has nearly eliminated my social anxiety. And it certainly didn’t hurt to leave upstate New York winters for months in the sunny South.

But full-time travel may not always boost your mood if you’re depressed or anxious.

Increase your depression and anxiety

A life of travel in a small vehicle or vessel might just make you feel worse.

Some people adopting a new, nomadic life experience

• loneliness
• the pressure to figure things out and blame when they don’t
• uncertainty about the future
• the feeling of being unmoored from your family or former community
• stress in relationships with their partner

Even people living the most idyllic life can experience bouts of depression and anxiety.

Depression is an illness that sits at the intersection of genetics and circumstances. So if you’re a sufferer and you set out on a life of full-time travel on your boat or RV, your life can both help and harm your mental health.

Just like any kind of life.

But even people who don’t normally suffer from depression and anxiety might experience moments of it in their nomadic lives.

Feeling Depressed Or Anxious While Traveling

Expectations are dangerous.

If you set out on a nomadic life expecting it to be nonstop sunsets and wildlife viewing, you’re bound to feel disappointed when your life becomes harder than you expected.

And disappointed expectations can contribute to exogenous (happening as a reaction to a situation) depression.

Even those of us suffering from chronic (endogenous) depression can have a depressive episode triggered by outside events.

So what should you do if your nomadic life coincides with a bout of depression or anxiety?

When you feel depressed or anxious

Over the decades, I’ve found relief in some seemingly insignificant actions. Maybe they will help you too.

Realize that pain is a sign

Just like physical pain, mental pain is your body and mind trying to tell you something.

Perhaps it’s just that you have some skewed genes giving you grief. But remember that your family members with the same depressive genes raised you as well. So some pain may result from relationships and not just science.

And a genetic predisposition doesn’t mean you will become depressed. It just means you may be more sensitive to incidents that can lead to depression.

Try to figure out what your pain is telling you without ruminating (a risky activity for depressed people). Writing about your thoughts can help without sending you down a rabbit hole of despair.

If you’re lucky, your writing will set you on the right path to feeling better.

Learn from depressed people

Plenty of seriously ill people have lived fulfilling (if challenging) lives. Some of them have written moving and thoughtful memoirs.

Yes, it helps me feel better to read and listen to talks by people hobbled by depression and anxiety.

For one thing, it makes me feel less alone. And it helps me realize that the bad feelings will end. And if the author I’m reading found a way out of darkness, I will too.

Links below may be Amazon links. I will earn a small amount if you buy something after clicking them.

William Styron is one of my favorite authors. His book, Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness, is one of the most beautiful and horrifying books I’ve ever read.

Allie Brosh’s Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened brings humor and an “oh yeah, I recognize that” sensibility to depression.

And Johann Hari describes how medicine failed to help him while researching the science behind what might in Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression. (To get a peek at his ideas, check out his Ted Talk I embedded below.)

Wait to take drastic steps

Wait to take action until you have clarity. When you’re feeling low is not the time to make major changes in your life.

If you list your rig for sale or leave your partner or set off on a long voyage you’re ill-equipped for out of feelings of depression or anxiety, you will regret it.

I’m not suggesting that you might not need to take extreme actions to improve your life. But try to dig yourself out of the worst of the darkness before you make a plan to move forward.

On the other hand…

Stop… or start

Stop moving. Or start. Maybe you’re just stuck in your current routine. A simple change might help.

I find that when Meander is tied up to a dock for a long time, my mood starts to sink. It feels like I have all the negative sides of conventional homeownership (daily work, chores, maintenance). And I have none of the positives of living on a boat (travel, time on open water, constantly meeting new people.)

I know I would benefit from taking the boat out for a sail. But by the time I realize that I’m already feeling “stuck” and struggle with being able to prep the boat for sailing.

Likewise, if you’ve been traveling hundreds of miles each day (or for sailors–about a hundred miles a day) every day, you might just be exhausted by traveling.

Many nomads start out covering a lot of miles. But as they understand the lifestyle more, they find themselves hunkering down in a destination for a while.

Constant travel is exhausting and stressful.

If you’re feeling low or anxious after extensive travel, maybe it’s time to stop somewhere and just enjoy being still.

Don’t feel bad about feeling bad

Love the part of you in pain and express compassion for yourself.

I feel a lot of shame when I’m depressed. I can really beat myself up about not getting things done when my mood falls.

But one day I realized I was just making myself feel bad about feeling bad. What’s the point of that?

And if my friend told me they were in pain from a broken leg, I would never tell them they shouldn’t feel bad. I’d tell them to take care of themselves while healing.

We should all be as compassionate to ourselves.

Get moving

Exercise or do physical work. As hard as it can be to push yourself to move, it does help.

On low days, I take breaks from “sitting still tasks” (whether watching a video or working for my virtual assistant clients) by getting up frequently and doing something physical. Sometimes it’s only swiping a dust rag over the navigation station. Others, it’s taking my dog Honey off the boat for a stroll.

No matter how tiny the task, moving off my butt helps my heart and mind.

Ask for help

Find the help you need to cope with your anxiety or depression.

If you’ve had a good therapeutic relationship with someone, see if they can follow up with you online or by phone.

Would some form of medication help? I met one world cruiser whose doctor prescribed a tiny dose of Valium to take only during severe ocean storms. Apparently, it took the edge off her fear while allowing her to function in dangerous seas.

Recognize the early signs of depression (irritability is one for me). Share what you’re feeling with your family and ask them for what you need to feel better.

Gifts of depression & anxiety for nomads

Yes, depression and anxiety bring their own gifts that can prep you for the traveling life.

If you’re experienced with depression, you also know

• not to count on things going exactly as planned
• understanding that sometimes it’s best to hunker down instead of riding out a storm
• recognizing the signals depression & anxiety are giving you when things aren’t right (happy people can tolerate awful circumstances for a long time)
• the importance of empathy, even if you’re less likely to share it with yourself.

Just think of how much all those happy people will suffer the first time they realize that they can’t control everything in their nomad lives. [grin]

Depression on Meander

I’ve suffered from depression and anxiety most of my life. Most of my close family has been treated for serious depressive disorders.

So what happened when I moved onboard and started cruising full time?

I felt like the person I always thought I was got to be herself.

Sure, I didn’t know much about sailing or boat electronics or weather. But I trusted myself to learn what I needed. I felt sure I would make good choices to keep us safe while I grew my skills.

I learned a lot about myself.

I also learned a lot about my partner. And in the close quarters of a 34-foot sailboat, I learned how his anxiety and fear affected me.

Exposure to my partner’s negativity and anxiety-related anger depressed my mood. But then it made me angry.

And if depression is anger turned inward (do psychologists still believe that?), turning my anger outward where it belonged was a huge leap forward for my mental health.

How will a life of travel on your boat or RV affect your mental health?

I don’t know. But I do know that if you are kind to yourself, pay attention to what your moods are telling you, and take the action you need to feel better you’ll make a great nomad.

Or you’ll return to a dirt home knowing that you listened to the messages your heart was giving you about where you should be and how you should live.

Photo by Quintin Gellar from Pexels

A healthy dose of pessimism will make you a successful nomad. Pessimism, in the right amount, is more useful than unlimited optimism.

Want to know how?

Healthy Pessimism For A Nomad

When you take off cruising or trade in your dirt house for an RV or camper van, you lose a lot of control.

Yes, I know that much of the lure of the nomad life is to control your own destiny. To no longer be stuck in the routines that others can’t escape.

But control is an illusion when you’re on a tiny vessel in the middle of the ocean with a squall approaching. Or when you’re set up to boondock in a national forest hours before a wildfire strikes nearby.

Learning how little control you actually have over your daily existence will make even the most cheery person more of a pessimist. And that’s not a bad thing.

Because a healthy dose of pessimism helps you prepare. And you can’t ask for more than being well prepared when a disaster (or even mini-disaster) strikes.

Healthy Pessimism At Work

Are you an independently wealthy nomad? Then you don’t need to read this section.

But for the rest of us, who work underway, a healthy dose of pessimism helps keep our work lives under control.

Procrastinator or optimist?

When I lived in a dirt house, I procrastinated all the time. I needed the pressure of a deadline to get stuff done.

But that bad habit disappeared when I moved onto a boat.

I could no longer assume that I’d be able to do my work at the last minute. What if a storm came up? How about if I failed to get decent internet from my wifi hotspot? What if my computer suddenly crashed?

Yes, all of these things have happened and threatened my ability to work.

My husband has not yet developed a healthy amount of pessimism. That’s why he lost a ton of work when the computer he had failed to back up for over a month got fried by an electrical surge.

I still don’t know if he was just procrastinating when he failed to back up his computer? Or just being an optimist.

A pessimist’s work tools

When my computer crashed, I was able to complete my work that day.

I had saved all my passwords and forwarded them in a password-protected file to my sister and my husband. I work every day so I don’t fall too far behind if something unexpected happens. And I bought a keyboard for my iPad so I’d have a backup.

Was it easy to do my work on my husband’s PC when my MacBook failed? Nope. But it was possible.

Healthy Pessimism In An Emergency

Do it when you can do it. Don’t assume you’ll be able to do it later.

Whatever “it” is, this is healthy pessimism in action.

I don’t like to see our diesel tank get below half full. I charge all my devices and wifi hotspot to full every day. We always have spares for any part we’re likely to have to replace.

I don’t assume that there will be fuel at our next stop. That we’ll be able to charge things at the next marina. Or that the impeller won’t come out of the box with a flaw.

Even when I’ve been at a marina for a month at a time, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to find the electricity not working on the dock.

Apparently, the electricity in our dock had not yet been upgraded. So with an exceptionally high tide threatening the wires under the dock, the staff turned the power off.

Good thing I charged my computer before I went to bed.

When a real emergency happens, like when our propeller loses a blade as we’re exiting a narrow canal, we’re ready for it. The wifi hotspot and radio are fully charged. The anchor is ready to be deployed.

Now it’s no longer an emergency. It’s just a pain in the a$$.

Healthy Pessimism In A Relationship

An interviewer asked a divorce attorney, “What’s the secret to a long-lasting marriage?”

The reply? “Low expectations.”

The interviewer thought it was a horrible answer. But I’ve remembered it for years. And I think he was right.

Let’s face it. No one can live up to the expectations of a partner who hopes to find every wish fulfilled by their spouse.

And if you’re expectations are low, you can be open to seeing who your partner truly is and not just who you hope they’ll be for you.

As one insightful author noted, “expectations are the enemy of love.”

What does this have to do with healthy pessimism?

Well, how would your relationship change if you pessimistically expected your partner to be stressed in poor conditions? If your pessimism assumed that they’d get angry when things went wrong?

If you were prepared for their reactions, you’d probably react better yourself.

And if they respond better than your pessimistic little mind expects, how much better is that?

Balancing Optimism And Pessimism

If you wake up every day dreading everything that could go wrong, you won’t be very happy. And it takes optimism to set out on a new, nomadic life to begin with.

How do you create a balance?

Be pessimistic enough that you’re always prepared in case the worst happens. And optimistic enough to believe that no matter what, you’ll figure out a solution.

Photo by Nihat from Pexels

Why should you singlehand your boat if you plan to always sail with a partner?

Frankly, it’s a question I never asked myself. 

I looked forward to cruising because I thought it would be a fun skill to learn and a lifestyle I could enjoy with my husband. As an extrovert (albeit one who struggles with social anxiety), thoughts of traveling alone by boat invoked the same feelings of horror as those movies where someone finds herself floating freely in a spacesuit.

But I recently delivered the boat to a boatyard over three days. And while I had company (thank goodness my sister agreed to join me for the trip) I was exclusively in charge of the boat.

I gained a lot from my first experience singlehanding. And I look forward to doing it again. 

You should singlehand your boat too.

[Note: I know the internet trolls will crawl out from under their bridge to tell me that I’m not singlehanding if I had crew on board. And it’s true that I was able to get away from the helm long enough to use the head and had someone to hand off lines if needed. But since I believe it’s important to take baby steps when learning new things, I’m going to consider it singlehanding to be exclusively in charge of the boat with only a passenger on board.

And if you don’t like it, start your own blog.]

My First Time Singlehanding

My husband and I learned to sail on 18-foot boats on Cayuga Lake. We’d go out most weekends to practice.

As we improved, we’d take turns playing “princess.” One person would take the helm and captain the boat while the other would relax and enjoy the breezes from the cockpit.

It was a low-stress way to gain experience managing the helm and lines solo with a partner nearby.

I have to admit, I did it less than my husband did. He even went out alone a few times and singlehanded. I never did.

I’m not sure I even docked the boat under sail alone more than once. 

Chicken? Yeah, that’s me.

Once we moved on board Meander and started cruising full time, neither of us ever took the boat out alone. Not once in four years.

So when I decided to deliver the boat to Deltaville for a much-needed refit while my husband remained behind to work, it was a big deal.

But I learned some valuable things delivering the boat without experienced crew on board. And those benefits are why I believe you should singlehand your boat too.

Benefits I Gained Singlehanding My Boat

When I set out, I knew I could manage the boat by myself. But I can’t say I was looking forward to it. 

When I thought I’d have to go entirely alone with just my dog for company, I even dreaded it a little. 

By the time I landed the boat at the last marina, I realized that I not only hadn’t dreaded the experience, I had also gotten tremendous benefits from it.

Like what, you wonder?

Putting theory into practice

Whenever we arrive at or leave a dock, my husband and I make a docking plan. Even if conditions are calm, we verbally rehearse how we’ll manage the boat and who will do what. 

It generally works well.

But our collaborative decision-making means I don’t always get to test ideas that I think will work. 

On our first day of my delivery trip, I was docked bow-in. Both the wind and the prop walk would push the boat to port, toward our neighbor’s boat. 

With my husband on the helm, I would normally use lines on the starboard side to keep our boat from getting too close to another one. But this time I would be on the helm. And I thought my inexperienced sister would find it too stressful to be entirely in charge of managing lines while I gave her instructions from the cockpit.

So I tried something I thought would work in theory but had never tried. 

I put the boat in reverse. As I noticed the stern moving to port under the influence of the slight breeze and prop walk, I shifted into neutral and then into forward for just a moment or two to straighten the boat in the slip.

Once I felt the boat was in a good position, I went into reverse again. I repeated as needed.

As we left the slip, we were very nearly straight. There was no drama with other boats. And my sister only had to keep a lookout for other boats in the fairway. 

I always wondered if those small moves with the transmission would help the boat back out straighter. Now I know.

Practice

When you cruise with a partner, it’s easy to fall into habits. 

My husband is so good at navigating, it’s easy to just let him do it. (Until recently, we exclusively plotted our courses on paper charts. So it actually takes some skill that boaters who only use electronic charts may not have.)

I was probably most apprehensive about this aspect of our trip.

Although we had traveled many times between Deltaville, Virginia and Cambridge, Maryland I worried about losing track of where I was and finding myself on top of fish netting or on the wrong side of a mark warning of a shoal. 

Being forced to navigate on my own was good practice. 

Although I’m happy to turn the navigation chores back over to my husband the next time we travel together, it’s good to gain experience on something I do less often.

Practice communicating with strangers

In four years cruising together we’ve learned that if a task requires deep focus, you want my husband to do it. It if requires multi-tasking, you want me on the job.

Unfortunately, docking can start as a deep focus task that requires multi-tasking skills as you have to communicate with “helpful” strangers, fishermen on the dock, and dockhands. 

With two of us on board, my husband can focus on maneuvering the boat while I communicate with people yelling to us from shore. 

But even I got some good communicating practice while singlehanding. 

When a dockhand turned up at a different dock than the one I planned to land at, I had to shout instructions from the helm so he knew what to expect. I had to give calm instructions to my sister about how to manage lines. And I had to follow up when the first instructions didn’t work. 

I’m most proud of finding I do have the ability to give calm guidance on the boat without yelling. I’ve heard so much yelling on boats (both mine and others), it’s nice to know that calm communication isn’t an anomaly onboard. 

Hopefully the practice I got singlehanding will help my communication going forward.

Problem solving

As an extrovert, I’m incapable of solving a problem without talking it through. So how would I solve a problem without a knowledgeable person to bounce ideas off?

The first test of my problem-solving skills came when we arrived at our second night’s dock off the Great Wicomico River in winds gusting over 25 mph. 

I knew docking solo would be challenging in those conditions. There would be no dock hands standing by to grab our lines. 

I rehearsed how I would manage docking while knowing that I wouldn’t make a final plan until I got close enough to the dock to see how local conditions affected the wind strength. 

Luckily we arrived to see that we had several options for slips. I was able to choose one that would have me docking into the wind. I’d just have to match my speed to the wind and get the boat far enough into the slip so I could hop off at the gate with a line in hand and secure it before losing control.

It happened just the way I planned it. After slipping the boat into neutral, I had to move quickly to get the boat tied off. But I did it. Without drama.

To this day, I don’t think my sister who watched from the deck knows that was a damn good landing in those conditions for someone who has never done it before.

In fact, knowing I could make the trip relaxing and fun for a nervous passenger became one of my favorite benefits of singlehanding.

Emotional control

As Meander’s captain, I joke that my main job is morale officer. I feel a lot of responsibility for the emotional tenor of life on board.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t make my husband love cruising as much as I do.

Singlehanding, however, I have a lot more control over how things feel on board. And I enjoyed the challenge of creating a positive experience for my passenger.

It meant that I made choices for them that I might not make for myself (like opting for a tow when our fuel pump failed instead of trying to sail into a challenging channel). But it felt good to know that I could cultivate a calm experience on board.

For any person whose experiences on board have been fraught with tension and conflict with a mate or other crew, this alone makes singlehanding something worth trying.

Gain confidence

I suspected I could handle our 34-foot boat alone. But now I know I can do many things I had never tried before.

I suspect I can do many more things with Meander on my own or with an inexperienced passenger. And I look forward to trying.

My first attempt at singlehanding Meander has opened up new possibilities.

New possibilities

Shortly after we started cruising, it became obvious that my husband didn’t enjoy it very much. 

He just found it hard. While for me, the effort was part of the enjoyment.

We’ve compromised over the years—traveling less, spending more time in marinas, taking long breaks off the boat to work. 

But my recent experience delivering the boat on my own has me thinking about different patterns of cruising that might work for both of us.

Maybe I could take on most of the travel responsibilities and let my husband fly or drive down to meet me on the boat for part of the time. I could pick up passengers or crew who would like to do legs of the trip with me. 

I don’t have to force my husband to come along all the time after all.

What if your partner can’t cruise with you?

And of course, the most important reason everyone sailing with a partner should try singlehanding—what if your partner becomes ill or dies? Do you want to give up the life you love? And if it happened suddenly, are you confident you can get your boat home?

I’ve lost count of how many women (and yes, so far they’ve all been women) who could not handle their boat if something happened to their partner. 

Thinking of those women being stuck out on the open water not even knowing how to work the radio when their husband has a heart attack makes me shudder.

You may not care about problem-solving by yourself. Or growing your skills. Or even gaining confidence. 

But you should damn well care that you can get your boat to safety if something happens to your partner underway. 

And just think of the kick-ass story you can tell in a marina laundry room when you singlehanded your boat home from the Bahamas when your husband becomes seriously ill (true story; this woman is my hero.)

My Second Time Singlehanding

Did the entire delivery trip go well?

I think so.

We faced some rough conditions the second day. Sailors familiar with the Chesapeake Bay will know that uncomfortable feeling when you have a short period and high, choppy waves. 

Our third day, after adding fuel to the tank, I discovered the engine would not start. I called the boatyard I was delivering the boat to. Staff there helped me talk through my options for diagnosing and fixing the problem. (It’s an extrovert thing; I find it nearly impossible to decide something without talking about it out loud.)

In the end, I was glad I decided not to mess with the engine in a remote location with the closest diesel technician and source of parts being over 60 miles away. Especially after discovering the fuel pump needed replacing. 

We got towed into Deltaville and had the further joy of landing the boat under tow. 

The towboat captain was not even a little sexist. He appreciated that I had the lines ready to tow when he arrived and we left within fifteen minutes of his arrival. And did not overly explain anything we had to do to get the boat into a narrow channel with shoals on both sides. 

Having a positive experience with a male, marine professional? I guess that was another benefit of singlehanding.

I can’t say there was a single bad thing about taking the boat myself for three days.

Take The Next Step To Singlehanding

As I argued with the straw troll above, my experience is not what most people think of as singlehanding. Because I was not totally alone.

If my sister had been unable to join me, I would have had to approach our first dock much more closely without someone there to toss lines. 

And I would have had to make some really uncomfortable choices about relieving myself underway. 

Taking Meander on a three-day trip with an inexperienced passenger was my first step toward true singlehanding. 

Because I find being alone for days at a time very lonely, I may never want to singlehand my boat for long. But I could see a future where I take other passengers, experienced and not, and feel perfectly confident in control of my own boat.

If you’re like to singlehand your boat, figure out what your next step is. Is asking your normal crew member to sit back and let you try things on your own? Is it getting help with docking but doing everything else alone? Or is it taking your boat for a solo trip to a new destination?

I believe it’s important to ease in slowly when you’re trying new things. So find the edge of your comfort level and push against it ever so much. Prepare ahead so you have everything you’ll need to safely singlehand your boat.

I guarantee you won’t regret it. At least if you have as much fun as I did (and remember, I ended up with rough seas and a broken fuel tank so it wasn’t all unicorns and rainbows).

Your turn: Have you ever done something alone you didn’t think you could have done yourself? How did it go?

Photo by Te lensFix from Pexels

Social anxiety—the sweaty palms, fear of rejection, and inability to make a simple phone call—it’s not fun for anyone. But if you’re an extrovert, someone who needs social interaction to function, it’s a misery.

And if you live and travel on a boat and find yourself isolated from people for stretches of time, anything that keeps you from forming connections when you are around folks can be totally demoralizing.

Extrovert’s Dilemma

For most of my life, I’ve quivered at the thought of making a basic phone call. I’ve disappointed friends by not showing up for events I said I would attend. And I’ve felt genuine fear at attending a party where I didn’t know anyone.

The crazy thing is that I love people. I’m interested in people. But most of all, I need to be around people (like damn near all the time) to function.

You see, I’m an extrovert.

I can hear you now: “You’re not an extrovert. If you were, you wouldn’t have been so fearful.”

But people get confused by the terms. Just like introverts aren’t necessarily shy, extroverts aren’t necessarily confident around others.

When Jung defined the terms in the 1920s he wrote about being outward directed or inner directed. In recent years, the definition of introversion or extroversion includes where a person finds her energy.

My introvert friends and family are lovely people to hang around with. But I know they feel exhausted surrounded by others all the time.

They need alone time to recharge.

I’ve had to learn how to tolerate being alone. But it’s never easy. I need to be around the energy of other people to thrive.

It’s why I’ve often done my solitary work in a library, coffee shop, or even a mall. Anything that gets me into the presence of others helps me feel better and be more productive.

But my social anxiety has been counterproductive for making new friends and being social with others. Fortunately, my cruising life has helped me to rid myself of a great deal of my social anxiety.

Do you want to know how?

Social Anxiety On A Boat

Our first year cruising, we faced some challenges that led to us traveling well after the majority of other snowbirds. By the time we met up with more cruisers in the warmer states, I was feeling lonely and desperate for company.

But I was also fearful about making an idiot of myself in front of strangers or being rejected by potential new friends.

It was a bad mix.

But now, after four years cruising, I’m surprised to realize that much of my social anxiety is gone.

Apparently, there are things about the cruising life that have helped me move past it.

Conversation starters

Living on a boat is an amazing conversation starter.

I recently mentioned to a Lyft driver bringing me home with a huge haul of groceries that I lived on a boat. He replied by telling me about his friend who cruised for several years on his Pearson sailboat.

But even people I meet with no interest in boating or cruising are curious about what my life is like. They ask me about buying groceries, working on board, and even going to the toilet.

The dog lovers are dying to know what my dog Honey thinks about life on board. (Click the link to my other blog if you’re curious too.)

With a good conversation starter, I worry less about uncomfortable silences with strangers. And I look forward to meeting new people.

Rewards for taking risks

Positive reinforcement is a powerhouse technique for training dogs. It’s not bad for humans either (although our complex brains work hard to deny us the benefits of basic behaviorism).

Luckily, the cruising life is very rewarding. If I stepped out of my social anxiety cocoon to dine on someone’s boat or attend a cruiser’s event I was often rewarded with kindness and encouragement (to say nothing of food and liquor).

I remember many invitations to have drinks with neighboring boaters in a marina stoking my anxiety. But if I pushed myself to not make up an excuse and just went I had a great time.

And if your brain is rewarded enough, it can make inroads against social anxiety.

Crazy curiosity

I’ve always been a curious person. But cruising has amped my curiosity up to 11.

Maybe it’s because I’m learning new skills in middle age and it’s growing my brain. Or maybe the act of constantly moving and visiting new places and seeing new things is strengthening my curiosity.

And what I’m most curious about is people. My favorite hobby since starting cruising has become chatting with Lyft and Enterprise drivers who pick me up when I need access to a car.

So while I still feel a bit anxious calling the Enterprise rental car office to set a pick-up, the interesting stories I hear from the drivers makes it worth my while.

One Enterprise driver told us about hosting young people who were rowing Virginia’s backwaters to follow the explorations of Captain John Smith. Another told us about the time his scout leader became terribly seasick on a boat trip and the scouts had to get them back home safely when the engine failed during a storm.

But probably the most interesting driver told us (just as we were ending the trip; I’m still filled with questions) that he lived in the same home his family had owned since the 18th century. I’m dying to know more about the black family who held onto their property and freedom through the worst times for African Americans in Virginia.

I’ve learned to swallow my social anxiety to sate my curiosity.

But there’s one last way that cruising has helped me decrease my social anxiety.

Desperation

Shortly after dreaming up my scheme to go cruising on a boat I realized that I felt no interest in doing long, short-handed passages.

I have no problem with being part of a crew crossing an ocean. But alternating watches with my husband for weeks of solitary on the Atlantic? That sounds like torture.

Even in our coastal cruising, we can travel for days without seeing anyone but each other.

My husband doesn’t seem to mind it. He’s more introverted (at times, even misanthropic) than I am. By a lot.

By the time we’ve been traveling and anchoring in solitary for a few days, I jiggle with excitement listening to chatter on the VHF radio. And if a sexy boat sails nearby, I fantasize about meeting up to talk boat stuff.

Social anxiety has no place when I’m desperate for company. I’ve pushed passed it enough that it has considerably less power over me.

Society Anxiety On Land

As I write this, I’m a CLOD (cruiser living on dirt).

The boat needs some serious TLC. So when my husband had a chance to work for a busy architecture firm in Delaware, we put Meander in a boatyard where it will get new rigging, electronics, and whatever other work we can afford.

We’re currently living in a one-bedroom apartment in Wilmington, Delaware.

I don’t know a soul here.

So when the wife of someone we occasionally chat with while exercising our dogs invited me to a reading group in the neighborhood I said yes right away. I felt none of the hesitation that usually signaled my social anxiety was taking over.

Tonight I’ll attend the first meeting. And I’m amazed to realize that I’m not even a little bit nervous at showing up at the front door of someone I’ve never met to discuss a book with a bunch of strangers.

Where did my social anxiety go? Because in the past, this would definitely be a frightening experience.

Maybe desperation from being a CLOD, separated from the boat I love, has wrenched the last bit of it from me.

All I know is that cruising helped me turn my social anxiety into a tiny barrier instead of its former insurmountable obstacle.

I wonder which of my many neuroses the boat will cure next?

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Travel—it can inspire you, bring out your creativity, and help you appreciate the beauty of the world. But what if you’re just feeling dog tired? What if you’re experiencing travel burnout? 

The good news? You’re not alone. Many full-time nomads hit a wall in their travels. Some give up and go home. 

But if your “home” is your RV or boat and you have no other base, figuring out how to cope with burnout can add to the feelings of stress. 

Before we figure out how to cure burnout, let’s figure out how to recognize it.

What is travel burnout? And how do you know if you’re suffering from it?

Signs Of Travel Burnout

Are you flying into a rage at relatively minor setbacks? Do you dread planning your route? Are you avoiding people? 

Those are a few signs selected by Travel & Leisure magazine as indications of travel burnout. 

The words I hear most frequently from cruisers and RVers suffering from burnout are exhausted and overwhelmed. 

Travel Burnout In An RV Or Boat

In one sense, traveling in your own RV or boat could make you less prone to burnout that someone backpacking around the world. After all, you carry your home—your refuge—everywhere you go. 

But when you travel in your own vessel, you’re not only responsible for managing yourself. You also have to maintain your “home.” 

A backpacker will not be called upon the repair the toilet in a hotel or hostel. But every RVer knows the horror of a wet spot near the base of their toilet. And just mention the phrase “joker valve” to a sailor if you want to reduce them to a quivering pile of jelly.

So in addition to the exhaustion of constantly traveling, dealing with unfamiliar food, and communicating in a language you weren’t raised to speak, RVers and boat cruisers have to keep their homes operating properly.

No wonder we sometimes feel burned out.

Help For Travel Burnout

If you’re starting to feel the symptoms of burnout, maybe it’s time to do things differently.

Travel less

After four years on the water, we definitely travel more slowly than when we first began. 

We limit our sailing distance to about 35 miles a day. It allows us to drop the anchor at a reasonable hour and have time to rest before dinner. 

Obviously, if you’re crossing an ocean, you can’t limit your mileage. But hopefully, you’ll have enough boredom underway to make the travel less stressful.

And once you arrive at your destination, just stop. There’s a reason the Guna Yala islands of Panama are filled with cruisers who hardly move. Once you’ve worked so hard to get somewhere, it’s nice to have a break.

For full-time RVers who travel much faster, 5-6 hours is a reasonable amount to drive on a travel day or no more than 350 miles.

I remember leaving a dock at 6:30 a.m. and traveling 50 miles in a day. On our sailboat, that’s at least an 8 hour day, not including the two hours we spent getting ready to leave and the two hours cleaning up at the end of the day.

It was exhausting. Though the reason we traveled so (relatively) quickly leads to my next suggestion for curing burnout.

Watch the weather

The reason we traveled so many miles per day when we first started cruising was that engine problems led to us leaving the Chesapeake Bay in January. It was freaking cold. 

Even in a dirt house, too many cloudy days or a heatwave can wear you out. But bad weather when you live in a boat or RV? It’s the worst.

One RVer shared on a Facebook group that she was wondering if she had made the wrong decision only one month into her new life. 

What caused her to consider giving up? Thirty straight days of rain. 

I suspect that my Facebook acquaintance had reserved a campsite for a set period. And didn’t want to lose the money she had paid. But I know what I would have done in her place—pulled up stakes and driven until I saw the sun. 

Although the ability to move your home is the best choice some times, other times, it adds to your stress.

Put down (temporary) roots

When you first hit the road, there’s a huge temptation to be a tourist—to see as many things as quickly as you can. Y’know, like you do on a two-week vacation. 

But the urge to see as much as possible creates burnout after a while. Just because you can move, doesn’t mean you have to.

If you’re feeling travel burnout, stop traveling. Set down some roots. Stay in one place and explore it deeply.

Not only will you avoid burnout, but you’ll also save money. 

If you also work while traveling, you’ll also find it easier to earn money if you stay put for a while.

And if you aren’t burning up the cruising kitty by motoring every day or filling up after miles of driving, you may be able to invest in your comfort.

Add a luxury

Scientific studies find that people feel happier when they spend money on experiences than on “things.” But I bet those studies didn’t include traveling nomads.

Living on a 34-foot boat, I’m not a proponent of buying loads of stuff. But I find that certain careful purchases bring me great joy. 

Buying something that fulfills more than one use, works well, and makes me more comfortable is a good defense against burnout.

Recently we bought and installed some powerful fans that run off our house batteries. They’re very powerful and they sip energy. And every time the temperature climbs, I love the feeling of that strong wind blowing over my face.

Of course, my husband and my dog prefer the air conditioner we bought to use while we’re tied up to the dock over the summer. 

When you’re burning out, a little luxury can help.

Acknowledge the reality of your feelings

Those of us who choose a lifestyle, in part, because it’s challenging tend towards “pushing through” when we start feeling bad. Sadly, the shame of feeling bad when you’re living a life that many dream of having can make you feel even worse.

You feel the way you feel. There’s no shame to it. 

And if you talk to other nomads, you’ll find that you’re not alone.

Reach out

They’re called sundowners—when cruising sailors get together to drink and admire the sunset. But maybe a better name would be “some downers.” Because a major part of the occasion is swapping stories about bad days on the water. 

After the fact, the days that stress us out the most become the most amusing stories. 

And they create a community. Because we all have bad days. And everyone feels burned out sometimes.

A Million Ways To Avoid Travel Burnout

I’ve met people who’ve suffered travel burnout after several years or just a few weeks of full-time travel. When they speak, you can hear their exhaustion. 

Most of them assume they’ve come to the end of their nomad life. But there are always more possibilities than travel or don’t. 

Maybe instead of putting the boat up for sale in Guatemala, it’s time to hire a delivery captain to bring that boat to the Chesapeake Bay or the Great Lakes for some inland cruising.

A brief stint as a lighthouse keeper or state park docent might give you new living quarters to enjoy while you park your rig nearby. 

I’ve met world cruisers who sold their beautiful sailboat to travel in Asia by camper van. And a few bloggers famous for traveling by RV have bought sailboats and started cruising.

Only you know if your case of burnout is a sign to stop traveling. 

But if you start feeling burned out, change things up. Or take a break. When you feel good again, you have plenty of time to figure out what’s next.

Photo by Spencer Gurley from Pexels

Not all days in the nomad life are easy. If you live and travel on an RV or boat, you will experience tough times. But what makes them less awful? When you can find meaning.

What Went Wrong When We Moved Onto The Boat

So what went wrong the first year after moving onto our boat?

How much time do you have?

Within our first three days on the boat, the holding tank for our head (boat toilet) overflowed into our bedding. And we couldn’t take the boat for a pump out (to suck the waste out of the boat) because we did not yet have our ownership papers.

We eventually sailed the boat north to Maryland. But once there, we couldn’t keep the engine started. Before going any further, we decided to replace all the fuel lines.

The day before Thanksgiving, we heard an eerie thud under the boat that led to us landing in Deltaville, Virginia. Upon lifting the boat out of the water to diagnose the thud, we discovered a few problems including a folding propeller that badly needed a rebuild. 

We finally set sail on December 18, the longest day of our lives.

The seas were rough. By 8:00 in the morning, the watermen were returning to port. 

We picked up a stray line on our propeller. Which led to a 16-hour odyssey as we raced a gale under sail back to the marina we had just left.

For the first (and hopefully last time), I, along with my dog Honey and husband Mike, became horribly seasick.

And all this happened in just the first three months.

The crazy thing is that every other first-timer I’ve met, whether traveling by boat or RV, has similar stories for their early days underway.

The folks who stick with it are those who find meaning when things go wrong.

Some of the following links may be affiliate links. If you buy something after following them, I may earn a small fee but you will not pay more.

What Is The Meaning

Do you remember reading Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search For Meaning in high school?

Let me remind you. 

Victor Frankl survived a Nazi concentration camp just to find that everyone else in his family had died. He spent his life’s work as a psychiatrist addressing questions about human suffering. 

He asserted that finding meaning in suffering is what helps people survive it.

Now I do not mean to compare stinky boat bedding or a flat tire with a systematic attempt to commit genocide. But the lesson is the same—you’re more likely to come through a trial, whether minor or catastrophic, if you can find meaning.

So what possible meaning can we find in the string of problems we experienced as new cruisers?

Climbing the learning curve

Even if you’ve been driving for decades, you’ll experience a learning curve when you get behind the wheel of a big rig.

We had not been sailing long when we started cruising. And Meander is our first boat (excluding our kayaks). Of course, there will be a learning curve. Knowing that from the outset gives meaning to all those bad (and expensive) days. 

We weren’t victims of a meaningless universe. We were building skills.

Believe me, until the day we installed a composting toilet, we never forgot that it takes a couple about 3 days of full-time use to fill a 12-gallon holding tank. 

Improving our boat

I’d be lying if I told you I was happy about replacing every fuel line at once. It took time. And it’s not as sexy as new upholstery or a trip to an exotic locale. 

But do you want to know the last time I worried about not being able to start the engine because it was starved of fuel? I couldn’t tell you it’s been so long. 

It feels good to just have something taken care of so I don’t have to think about it.

Bonding stories

Finally, I didn’t realize our bad days would help us bond with other cruisers. But they have.

What do cruising sailors do at the end of the day? They pour drinks, watch the sunset, and swap horror stories. 

Not every day. But often enough.

Our bad days have given us plenty of stories. And we’ve heard our share as well. 

One single-hander in Charleston shared about the night he suddenly noticed the stars over his head had disappeared. Luckily, he realized they were being blocked by a giant tanker ship before he collided with it.

As a result of that story, I’ve never forgotten someone I met only briefly several years ago. 

Stories of bad days create a bond with people you may only know a short while. 

How To Find Meaning

Whether you live in a dirt house, a home on wheels, or a boat you’re going to have bad days. They’re much easier to deal with if you can find meaning in the experience.

So how do you find meaning in tough times?

Don’t seek meaning

Although Frankl acknowledged that finding meaning was crucial for surviving the worst experiences in life, he also advised people not to look for it. 

David Feldman talks about the paradox to finding meaning in life: the more you seek it the less you’ll find it.

I guess that means I just wasted several hours writing a blog post advising people to seek meaning when bad stuff happens. 

But Feldman suggests that you’ll find meaning when you focus on something outside yourself, like higher values. Or helping others.

Help others

What you learn on a particularly bad day can be a blessing to someone else. 

We learned lessons rolling in rough seas in the Chesapeake Bay that we’ve shared with sailors even greener than we are. 

We replaced our fuel lines with very little discussion. We probably only needed to replace one (after we figured out which). But I was an avid reader of The Boat Galley website.

Reading about how Carolyn and Dave spent months tracking down a similar fuel problem convinced us to replace everything at once. After all, the hoses were nearly 30 years old. They were probably due.

I haven’t asked her. But I bet that the time Carolyn Shearlock has spent writing helpful information for others has made the bad days onboard their boat feel more meaningful.

There’s one last tool I believe will prime your mind to find meaning in tough times. 

Express gratitude

Scientific studies have demonstrated that gratitude changes our brains in positive ways—like helping to free us from negative emotions.

I can’t think of anything more likely to generate toxic emotions than a particularly bad day. But if you cultivate gratitude daily, you’ll more easily transition into a positive mindset. 

Which, I believe, will eventually help you find meaning.

When I look back on our worst day on the water, I’m grateful. For

• no one getting hurt
• the things we learned
• the money that paid for our repairs
• a sturdy boat that takes a lot of punishment, and
• a good story.

And most of all, I’m grateful our bad days are more than just bad days. You might even say they are meaningful experiences.

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So you want to set sail, take off in an RV, or backpack around the world. Will you feel lonely?

You betcha. Everyone feels lonely sometimes. But not everyone feels lonely the same way. Luckily,  the more you know about loneliness, the better you’ll deal with it when it crops up while you’re traveling.

Feeling Lonely While Traveling

If I’m honest, I’ve probably felt more lonely living on land than I ever have since living on board our boat. 

But I think it’s natural to ask yourself if you’ll feel lonely when you’re leaving your old life behind and embarking on a new one.

After all, you’re saying goodbye to people you care about and see every day. You’ll be living a life that few of your old friends will understand. And you’ll measure time living in the same spot in days or months instead of years.

With all the huge changes in your life, you may find yourself feeling lonely from time to time.

Types Of Loneliness

There are many different types of loneliness. I’ve noted five you may be subject to if you set out on the nomad’s life.

Missing family

Will your aging parents or young adult children need you? How will you stay in touch with your grandchildren? 

These are the kinds of questions many people ask themselves when they set out on an adventure. I’d be willing to bet real money (if I had any) that fear of missing family and friends is probably the biggest barrier to wannabe cruisers or RV livers.

Missing your community

Do you belong to a book club? How about a religious congregation? Or an exercise class you’ve been attending for years?

Americans, in particular, have a reputation for being individualistic. It can be easy for us to forget that we’re members of communities. And that it can be surprisingly difficult to leave behind the groups we belong to.

Lacking intimate friendships

if you argue with your spouse while boondocking in a national forest, who will help you explore your feelings? Who will help you talk through your anxiety about squalls on the open ocean? 

Heck, who will laugh at your stupid puns or crude sense of humor? 

If your romantic partner is also your best friend, you may do fine. Then again…

Estranged from your partner

Nothing will stress your relationship more than carving out a new life together in a tiny space. 

I can tell you that nothing has taught me more about myself or my husband than setting sail together. And some of the lessons have been devastating.

If you and your partner are normally joined at the hip, feelings of isolation and loneliness can appear when you’re struggling to get along.

Outsider in a group

Sometimes we’ll land in a marina for a long stay. My husband finds it much easier to work plugged into shore power. And it’s hard to argue that taking the dog for a walk at least twice a day while anchored is easy.

Although you’d think that extroverted me would enjoy landing in a marina, I sometimes find it lonely. 

Marinas filled mostly with locals instead of cruisers can be desolate any time but sunny weekends. But the most lonely I’ve been in a marina was one with a small group of liveaboards. 

They were nice people. But they had formed their own community. Going to the shower through the mob of folks enjoying beers on the dock felt like walking by the popular kids’ table in middle school.

The next time we planned a long stay in an area, I was happy to land in a marina with a warm and welcoming group of liveaboards who invited me into their community while Mike traveled off the boat for work.

How You Feel Lonely

If you’re human, you’ll feel lonely at least sometimes. Personal differences, however, will change how you feel lonely. 

Perhaps if you consider your personal circumstances, you’ll manage to stave off loneliness. At least most of the time.

Introvert vs Extrovert

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? 

Both get lonely (yes, extroverts—introverts don’t dislike people; they just need to regroup alone). In fact, introverts have the potential to be more lonely with some travel styles.

Many introverts prefer to have a few close friends and may form deep relationships. While many extroverts (like myself) love lots of light interactions with a wide range of people. 

I love making chitter chatter with taxi drivers. A new boat lands in the anchorage and I look for a chance to ask the owner all about it. 

To me, a stranger is simply a friend I haven’t met yet. 

I’m not nearly as good at forming close, long lasting friendships as my introvert sister. I have a feeling she’d find cruising the Intracoastal Waterway far more lonely than I do.

She’d probably be far better than me at other ways of traveling.

Your travel style

I love following the stories of people crossing oceans—especially solo travelers. But I know I’d never want to do it with any fewer than five other people.

I can’t imagine anything worse than crossing the Atlantic with my husband while he sleeps more than half the time I’m on watch.

But I love hopscotching up the eastern US coast. 

I enjoy seeing different towns and meeting their residents as I travel through. Also, I love swapping stories with other cruisers.

What could be better?

Relationship with your partner

Do you like your partner? Do you work well together as a crew?

If you do, or can learn how to, you may find your bond increasing as you depend on each other day after day.

But if you can’t get past the inevitable stresses every relationship experiences when starting a new adventure, you may find being in the constant company of your spouse a very lonely experience.

Support of those you leave behind

You may think you’ll miss your family and friends more if they react to your nomad dream with support and love. But at least you’ll want to reach out to them from the road.

However, if your family accuses you of being selfish or can’t understand why you’d ever interrupt your career, you may find yourself avoiding contact with them. Which will increase your loneliness.

What To Do When You Feel Lonely

So loneliness is inevitable for nearly all of us. How do we keep it from becoming overwhelming?

Be kind to yourself

It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s certainly not a failing. It’s just part of being human.

The biggest risk of being lonely is feeling unloveable. 

No. Just stop it.

Connect with others

The lonelier I feel, the more I pull away from people. I need to fight it. You do too.

Connect with others. Share your feelings with your partner. Make a long distance phone call. Reach out to someone through social media. 

Yeah, it’s obvious advice. But many people need to hear it.

Help someone else

How can you connect with something bigger than yourself? 

Perhaps you can sign up for a citizen scientist program. Do a favor for a stranger. Or reach out to support someone else who needs it.

Be creative

Another way to connect with something bigger than yourself is to be creative. 

Grab your camera or pencils and make some beautiful images. Write a poem. Sing a song.

You’ll be amazed at how hard it is to feel lonely when you tap into your creativity.

Spend time in nature

I hate silence. 

When possible, I take my work to a library so I can surround myself with noise. I play music when I’m doing physical work. Silence makes me feel lonely.

But I’ve spent an hour happily watching dolphins and birds in a remote anchorage. Nature is noisy. Even when it’s silent.

And it’s never lonely.

Consider your options

If you experience more than occasional loneliness, it may be time to change things up.

When I connect with struggling people in cruising and RV groups online, it’s amazing how many of them only see two options. (If you’re on Facebook, there are two awesome private groups you may like: Full-Time RVing: The Emotional Journey and Women Who Sail [sorry, men, women only]).

But there are many ways to decrease your loneliness besides giving up your nomad dreams.

Build new communities—volunteer as an administrator on an online group. Travel in a different way if your current method is hurting you. Stay longer in one place. Invite someone new to travel with you. Hook up with a buddy boat or camper. 

If you can’t figure out what changes will help you feel less lonely on your journey, reach out and ask others for advice.

Who knows? Maybe the people you meet looking for ways to feel less lonely will be the ones who make you feel less lonely.

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We had spent days getting the boat ready for the storm that never hit. And I don’t feel the least bit bad about it. Let me tell you how I learned to make a decision and own it.

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Two strangers were counting on our help. But I was still tidying up the boat. If I had done a better job of boat keeping, we’d all have had less stress.

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Doing things badly without falling apart—it’s the most important skill a wannabe nomad can learn.

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