Reality

I’m tucked into the corner of the settee, wedged in with seven pillows so I don’t move and I don’t have to support my own body. The bucket is next to me but I’ve taken my seasick pill and I hope to sleep instead of vomit. The dorade vent that goes under water only drains on the outboard side of the box, so instead, when it fills, water pours on my right shoulder. Some of it makes it into the bucket so I feel pretty clever, but I still don’t want to move much so the pillows and the settee and my down vest get wetter and wetter. ...

A few days ago I was told that my dorades were dusty. The next day another person mentioned how dirty my decks were. And yet another person asked me why I had so much crap in my cockpit. All of these criticisms hit me deeply and personally and brought back every single boat insult ever slung my way. I emotionally fled to a perfectly polished tiny cottage where I could live alone in shiny silence with a hand blown glass vase full of pink peonies on the table and not a single crumb on the floor. ...

Can critically evaluating your relationship lead to a happier healthier self while simultaneously improving the relationship?