PTSD

By Erik Dolson

It may have been arrogant, or maybe just thoughtless. Selfish is another possibility. I took too much pride in having Irish climb on and off boats before we even made it back to Foxy. But I really thought we (I!) had moved us past the trauma of Irish’s fall.

Yes, we’d had trouble moving the boat away from the pump-out station, but the next day I rationalized our being pinned to the dock as the result of an unobserved flood tide and tight quarters. Continue reading PTSD

All But Forgotten — Part 1

By Erik Dolson

The early morning was cold and gray and I worried Irish would become chilled and uncomfortable out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Chris, our friend from Trotac, a chandlery and our favorite store in Victoria, had not yet pulled up to the dock. I worried there might have been a miscommunication. Continue reading All But Forgotten — Part 1

Fear 3.0

By Erik Dolson

Irish talks about fear. She fell, crushed half her face and lost her right eye. Of course she fears going back on the boat. No job and savings wiped out by divorce, she fears medical bills, as do many in much better shape.

She fears for our relationship. After losing her job, the day before she fell, she asked me if I “could still love an unemployed miscreant.”  Her question was not out of the blue. This isn’t the first time Irish and I had been together.

Continue reading Fear 3.0

Irish: Pain, and Fear

by Jane Miller

My world exploded on Thursday, but the fuse was ignited on Monday when I was fired from my job. I had more than half expected it, work was a toxic environment at best, but the finality of it was daunting.

Erik was determined to keep my spirits up though, and we set off on a walkabout. Being in Victoria with him, being on the boat with him, just being with him made me irrepressibly happy. I was afraid, though, what this change in employment and finances would bring to our relationship. My voice shook as I nervously asked him if he could still date an unemployed miscreant who couldn’t hold down a job. I had learned long ago that there were perils to asking a question to which one did not know the answer.

Continue reading Irish: Pain, and Fear