Middle Of The Boat

Where I found my highest potential

A month ago, I was still in my cool-moody-struggling artist-unemployed phase, living off some savings, making my silly drawings, writing my silly blog posts, and finishing my first silly little book. Yes, yes, I know, the book is much more than that and very special and important. Just let me be sassy! P.S. printing the book is still in process, and I’ll keep you all posted. I’ve received a couple email replies inquiring about it. If you’re reading this and you want a copy, you will be able to order it. It just won’t be until July.

Fast forward to this week: I worked Monday-Friday to “earn” my rest! But not before waking up on Saturday to clean our apartment, do laundry, and then go to Costco to stock up our freshly cleaned home. We made the day fun by going out to lunch in the midst of it all. Ah yes, back to the good ole American dream.

Today, Sunday, I’m enjoying the afternoon sun. I just finished a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream and mini chocolate chips. For some reason, it didn’t taste as good this time. It reminded me of the strange feeling I had the last time I ate chicken. That was in the fall of 2023. I’ve been a vegetarian ever since.

I’m not sure what to write about today, so this is starting off like a journal entry.

I am bothered by the thought of globs of ice cream in my stomach, so I’m going to pause here and make a cup of tea as a poor attempt to erase my memory of the indulgence.

As I sit back down from the rendezvous to the water kettle, I’m truly wondering what kind of strange species I am. I just made hot tea. It’s 82 degrees Fahrenheit outside. In the summer, we keep the thermostat at 75 during the day, 73 at night. I can hear some of you gasping. Well, gasp away because I’m also wearing a sweatshirt. Needless to say, since moving to Nashville from Colorado in 2017, I have definitely acclimated to the humidity of the south. I say humidity because the temperature of the heat is the same in Tennessee as it is in Colorado; it just feels hotter/heavier in the south because of the humidity.

The same goes for the winter. Colorado people will forget I lived there for years and not believe me when I say that it feels colder in the winter in Tennessee. Again, it’s because of the humidity. I much prefer the dry 30 degrees in Colorado to the damp 30 degrees in Tennessee, which cuts to your bones.

I almost added the words “but I digress” to that last sentence, but there is no such thing as digressing in a journal entry. I can talk about whatever I want.

So here I sit in my sweatshirt on a southern summer day, a warm happy clam with my cup of hot tea in my 75 degree apartment. Call me psycho, and I will smile and agree with you.

Apparently, I’m having epiphanies when I wake up from a nap lately. My “epiphany” today was more of a reminder of my ability to adjust to the ever changing circumstances of life. I’ve always been thankful for my adaptability, often listing it as a strength for things like job applications or those peculiar social situations that ask for your self-claimed personality traits.

I credit my adaptability to my upbringing. I speak for myself and nobody else. I absolutely loved moving every couple of years growing up. No doubt there are two sides to every coin, and I’m focusing on the bright side today. The older I get, the more I feel like I have super powers, attained by a collection of life experiences in many different types of cultures and groups of people.

During the first week at my new job, I found myself saying on a couple different occasions: “It takes a lot to phase me.” The verdict is still out whether I should be careful what I ask for, or if any potential instigators should be careful who they mess with : ). I’m mostly kidding. I love my new team.

My husband couldn’t sleep last night with everything going in California, and he was the one who filled me in on it this morning. The U.S. National Guard swooping in to take over local government definitely phases me, as it should everyone. I’m going to take this moment to remember that red hot emotions are not a good place to make decisions from. As we’re seeing, the collateral damage sucks and only makes things worse. The self control is way easier said than done. In fact, it can take years, a lifetime, maybe even multiple lifetimes to develop, always after learning the hard way. That’s why I can’t be reminded enough. I just hate to be reminded with events like this.

For some reason, I just took off my sweatshirt.

As sarcastic as the opening of this post might have seemed, I am really grateful for my new job. I get to travel for work this week. A lot of my team works out of Memphis, so I’ll be going there for training for a few days. Towards the end of a virtual meeting with my manager earlier this week, some light conversation turned into a big surprise that she lives in the same small town as one of my best friends from college. They live so close, they could probably walk to each other’s houses. We both couldn’t believe what a small world it is.

I went to college in Colorado, and to this day I’m still best friends with three roommates who I met there and lived with for three years. One of them is the friend who married a local to the greater Memphis area, which is what brought her to Tennessee a few years after I moved to Nashville.

The last couple of months I let my wandering soul do whatever she wanted to, even to the point of feeling a little lost. Even in my darkest years, I’ve never lost my faith in God, or if you prefer, a power greater than myself. In my last post, which you can always find on my Substack page: jeanwinks.substack.com, I told the story of how I found the job that I have now.

Of all the places I could have landed to work in Nashville, I am part of a team that is ultimately headquartered in Memphis, with a manager who lives in a small town outside of the city, five minutes from one of my best friends from Colorado, who I’ll get to have dinner with when I’m there on business.

A quote from my last post:

Call it a fluke. Call it a coincidence. Call it divine providence. The explanation doesn’t matter to me.

I’m grateful to know that I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

Taking a sabbatical for a couple of months really helped me right size myself and remember what’s important.

I’m not chasing status anymore.

Kara Norman

, who writes a wonderful newsletter called

Under a Spell

, left a comment on my last post referring to the “messy middle.” I’m living for the messy middle now. Outside of the delusion of a “perfect life,” the messy middle is really all that exists. Thank you for that, Kara. It reminds me of another friend who once told me to stay “in the middle of the boat.”

I’ve lived plenty of life on the edge, wondering what would happen if I jumped off. A few times I really did jump off, and now I’m living in gratitude and amends to those who pulled me back in to communal safety. To be honest, I’m also living in quite a bit of perplexity as to why God allowed me to survive the blasts of the wild sea. Maybe it’s just so I can write these journal entries to whoever might be listening.

Whether you’re happy in the middle of the boat or a jumper like me, the way back home is always whoever you find to be your people, the crew of your ship.

Whether you’ve lived in the same place your whole life, or all over like me, the way back home is always your people.

Find them.

Keep them.

Relationships are the hardest thing on the planet to nurture well.

I still suck at it. I mean I really suck at it.

I will never stop giving it everything I can because I would be dead without family.

As I’m wrapping this up, I started wondering what my picture this week will be. I always try to include a song and a picture, even if it’s just a stock photo. Talking about boats reminds me of the very first tattoo I ever got.

True to my upside down nature, I went in to the tattoo shop thinking I would get a little sunflower in a subtle location on the inside of my arm, and I came out with a giant ship, not so subtle on the outside of my arm.

SORRY, MOM.

I got that tattoo in late 2011 or early 2012 after a heartfelt conversation with the tattoo artist. I gave him the nutshell version of my life story, and the ship was the result of the overarching metaphor of the journey of life. I always like holding my ideas loosely when I go into hair and tattoo appointments because the person performing the service is the real artist. They often know better than me what I actually want.

The sunflower/compass image at the top represents the sun, the light, life, and direction of my life, the power greater than myself, the God of my understanding who is ultimately in control of the tides. It is the same light that allows the moon to be illuminated in the darkness. I recall a Bible story I heard in church growing up, which told of a supernatural peace Jesus carried with him, which even allowed him to sleep in the bottom of a boat during violent storms, while all the disciples were running around losing their minds. I’ve always been happy to believe and receive Jesus’s parting gift to us, which is that same spirit of peace within ourselves.

Little did I know that ship on my arm would represent the dream I was chasing all along. At the time, I thought it was about where I was going. Turns out that doesn’t matter. The destination is always changing. All that matters is that I stay right there, in the middle of that boat, no matter where I’m going.

As long as I’ve got my crew, I can do anything.

At least until they make me walk the plank.

In which case, I wouldn’t blame them.

CANNONBALL!