During my final semester of college I received a written assessment for a photography presentation. I was praised for my technical skills and the theme of the work but the comment that I remember from the professor was: “Heather, you have very high expectations for yourself and others, sometimes to you own detriment.”

I guffawed at this observation at the time. After all, this was the first and only class I took with this prof, so what could she possibly really know about me? And yet, 26 years later, I remember that comment word for word.

The truth is like that.

This week I had a few mechanical hiccups. While flushing the watermaker I ended up causing an airlock because I momentarily forgot to open the fresh water valve. Not a huge deal, easily fixable with some guidance from my favourite remote tech support guy. (Who, by the way didn’t make a big deal about it or blame me for my stupid mistake, just talked me through how to correct it.)

But I took it personally.

My momentary lapse in attention is what caused the problem so in my head I failed, not the machine. I got really upset with myself and told Steve he should never leave me alone because I do stupid things. (What I actually texted him was slightly more self flagellating and not at all productive, but there’s no need to reopen old wounds.)

Even after I corrected the airlock and had the system back online I was mad at myself.

I gave myself no credit for:

1. Diagnosing the issue and knowing how to address the situation as it played out- immediately shut things down and asking for help.          

2.Having the knowledge and know how to correct the issue once Steve told me the steps I needed to follow.

I was completely focused on my mistake, not my ability to solve the problem. It gnawed at me for the rest of the day. It was the last thing I was thinking about when I laid down to sleep that night.

When I woke the next day it was to cloudy skies and low batteries. I hadn’t had clear skies for days due to wildfires burning on the other side of Borneo. I knew I would have to run our old Honda generator to charge the batteries so I got to work setting it up and filling it with petrol. I waited until a polite hour to pull the start cord and it all felt good until the third, then fourth, then fifth pull.

Maybe, I thought, I’ve got the choke in the wrong position or the eco switch should be on not off.

I downloaded the manual, read over the start up procedure, started from scratch and pulled the cord again. And again. And again. Nothing.

OK, I thought, maybe it’s flooded like an outboard can be when it won’t start.
I let it sit for half an hour and tried again. Nothing.

I decided to check the spark plug.

After spending half an hour trying to locate a spark plug wrench (the ones in the OB kit are not the same size) or a long socket (that didn’t fit) I asked my neighbour to borrow his wrench (he was running his generator, same model.) I was able to remove the spark plug and clean it but still the generator would not start.  

I had turned the fridges off over night in an attempt to conserve battery power. I had heavily provisioned just two days before and now, with solid cloud cover and no generator there was a chance that I would lose most of my fresh veggies and meat within a day or so.  Not ideal.

I Googled, and YouTubed, and chatted with my older brother trying to trouble shoot the problem without bothering Steve during a very busy work day. What I suspected was the problem was that the carburetor had fouled and would need to be cleaned. A common fault, and one that Steve had dealt with before.

Difficult? Not particularly. A few screws, some minor disassembly, probably a little spilt fuel, and hour or so of my time and it would be done. I had cleaned the carbie on our old outboard years ago, I had bookmarked a couple how-to videos. Steve even sent a message assuming that I had tackled the problem because he knows that I CAN fix things like this. But, I still didn’t have the confidence to deal with it.

Instead I decided to pull the cord just a few more times while whispering encouraging words to genny. “Come on girl! You can do it!”

Did the generator start? No. Did the recoil spring jam leaving ALL the pull string dangling out of the generator? Yes. Did I take another leap down the deep dark spiral of “I am so stupid, it’s all my fault!” You betcha. Did I wallow in that shame and misery for the entire day. Unfortunately, yes I did. It knocked me flat, literally. The sofa my refuge, and a long afternoon nap my escape.

Thankfully, I was able to pack everything into our small, 40L fridge and despite the overcast skies, the new solar panels managed to keep up with it’s power demands. I broke out my portable solar panel and left my tablet and phone trickle charging for the whole day. Slow, but it worked. I ate a giant mango for lunch and some leftovers for supper, made a plan to cook the meat to prevent it from spoiling, and deal the awkward sweet potatoes at the bottom of the fridge that were not vibe-ing with my space efficient food storage plan.

I didn’t, however, manage to get out of my funk.

I slept fitfully and woke with feeling both dread and determination. Could I fix both the carbie issue and the recoil? A few more YouTube videos and it was looking like a possibility. Not a fun one now, by any means, since the recoil repair would require almost total disassembly, but it wasn’t impossible.

The thing is I hadn’t yet told Steve about the recoil issue…

He had already replaced the pull cord a few years before, so I knew it wasn’t totally my fault, but I also knew I probably shouldn’t have tried and tried and tried to start it when there was another issue at play. I knew he wouldn’t be mad at me, that’s not how he works. But I dreaded disappointing him. Or, perhaps I should say, I dreaded feeling like I had disappointed him. Because he’s never once said he’s disappointed in me, but I have sure as hell been disappointed in myself.

In end we agreed that taking the generator ashore to a mechanic was probably the most productive move.

So, yesterday, with the sun peaking through the clouds and the solar panels pumping out power, I muscled the genny into the dinghy and onto the dock and into a cab and I dropped off at a hole in the wall repair shop in town. Then I found a local spot to have a iced coffee, borrowed a power point to charge up my phone and a speaker and small powerbank, and scribbled my notes and thoughts for this blog post on a piece of cardboard I ripped off a case of beer while one of the employees was stacking the fridge.

And while I sat in public, choking back tears, trying to decipher my feelings about the weeks events and wondering if I would be brave enough to put them online, that comment from my college prof came back to me and I laughed.

I had had a miserable week, and no doubt made it miserable for Steve as well, and why? Not because shit broke, but because I couldn’t get out of my own goddamn way. Because instead of patting myself on the back for finding a work around the problems that popped up, I indulged in negative self talk and unproductive behaviours. Because instead of reaching out, I curled myself into a miserable ball and shut down.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with having high expectations for oneself but I no longer want to see myself as a failure when I don’t achieve them on the first go round. Or the second. Or the third. Or the eighty-fifth. I longer want to be a detriment to myself.

None of this is easy.

Being apart, being alone on the boat, being human. But there is no need to make that much harder. So, be kind to yourself, I know I am going to try to be from now on.

Love,
H…&S

P.S. Big shout out to Susan McEchern! If only I had listened more carefully to your words of wisdom back in art college…