Living Anxiously Part Five: Living Slowly

“For fast acting relief, try slowing down.”

–Lily Tomlin

This post will be short and sweet because it something I’ve only been learning within the past week. This blog is called Living Romantically, but I think maybe I should change it to Living Slowly. Along with anxiety, comes the feeling of being overwhelmed. Constantly. Sometimes just feeling like there is too much to do can make me incredibly anxious.

To combat this, I’ve started slowing down 10%. If I start to feel anxious about my to-do list, I will take some deep breaths and instead of going at 100% speed, I will go at 90% speed. This has a tremendous impact because not only does it make me move more mindfully (huge plus!), but it helps me to not feel overwhelmed. A switch flips and I realize that my to-do list is not my life (even though it definitely feels that way sometimes!). Life happens in between the checklist and I mean to be there for it, not lost in the checkbox.

I will have to add to this post as time goes on, but it didn’t feel right not to include it because it has been a key for me lately. Maybe I’ll join the Slow Movement! When my day gets so overwhelming I feel like I can’t breathe, I stop, remember to slow it down, and move again. 

***

Wow. Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me. It has been very cathartic, if very scary, but receiving the support I have has been so amazing. Thank you all so much and, please, if you have anything to add or any comment at all, leave it below.

Living Anxiously Part Four: Mindfulness Practice

The practice of living fully in the present moment— what we call mindfulness— can give us the courage to face our fears and no longer be pushed and pulled around by them. To be mindful means to look deeply, to touch our true nature of interbeing and recognize that nothing is ever lost.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, Fear

When I went to my first yoga class in-person (not with a YouTube video at home), I was petrified. The teacher introduced herself to me before it began and when I told her how nervous I was, she said, “No one does everything perfectly. That is why they call it a practice.”

That has stuck with me, especially because I have a tendency to beat myself up if I don’t do something to perfection. This is why I’ve titled this post “Mindfulness Practice,” not just “Mindfulness.” There is no destination with mindfulness. It is a constant, beautiful growth that never ends.

Mindfulness is the energy of attention. …The fruit of mindfulness practice is the realization that peace and joy are available within us and around us, right here and right now.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, The Art of Mindfulness

I’ve discovered that mindfulness is really worth all the hoopla. It brings me a sense of calm, a way to connect genuinely with the world around me, and helps me see life for what it is instead of how I try to define it because let’s face it, everyone has their own way to paint the world.

There is a serene beauty in breathing in and out and knowing you are doing it. The quick pace slows down and I can really see the rain drops on my window and smell it through the screen. When I am being mindful and I look into Owen’s eyes, I see things that I had forgotten were there. I see a little person with this incredible precocious personality that fills me with so much joy and pain and love and fear–and none of it scares me. All of those emotions create a meaningful moment where the two of us tell stories or have a real conversation without trying to get out the door or move onto the next item of business. These are rare moments, but as I practice mindfulness, they are becoming less rare and I like it that way.

When I thought about my funeral, I thought about my death. The thought alone is enough to conjure anxiety, which is why I knew I needed to think about it (feel it and do it anyway, right?). Thich Nhat Hanh’s Fear gives a great meditative practice that guides you in thinking about death in a safe way without much anxiety. And if there is, you can feel it and examine it mindfully instead of run from it.

As I’ve thought about death, I’ve realized that when I’m on my deathbed, I want to look back on a meaningful life–a full life, which means filling it daily, maybe even hourly, by moments that create meaning–that FILL me.

If you make a habit of mindfulness practice, when difficulties arise, you will already know what to do.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, Fear

I have read more than eight of Thich Nhat Hanh’s books, each one of them better than the one before, and while he is a Buddhist monk, he keeps most of his writing as applicable as he can to people of all faiths. My favorites so far have been Fear (which I mentioned above and is WONDERFUL for anxiety) and No Mud, No Lotus (my favorite and AMAZING for depression).

On days when I forget to be mindful or when I let anxiety rule and I end up in bed, I remind myself of that yoga teacher. Every day is my personal practice. That is all. No one does everything right and I am no exception. Small, meaningful steps, even if on a bad day I move from the bed to the couch and watch a movie and make popcorn with Owen instead of curling up, I have been successful that day. I hope soon I’ll make it much, much further than that. I have big plans! But for now, that is enough because I know that through these small moves the best gifts unfold.

Living Anxiously Part Three: Define My Values

True success is living by your values. Hold your values lightly, but pursue them vigorously.

–Russ Harris

At the beginning of the year, I attended a community meditation about values. After spending time in meditation, where we were asked to imagine our funeral. You can do this too.

  • Where is it?
  • Who is there?
  • What does the person giving the life sketch/eulogy say about you?
  • What do you want him or her to say about you?
  • What do you want everyone to remember about you?

As I considered these things, a few very specific things immediately came to my mind. I quickly wrote them down. This exercise created my number one value that is driving my life right now. Maybe one day I’ll share it, but today is not that day. Too many personal things have already been shared this week.

I mentioned The Happiness Trap yesterday, but I didn’t expound on it much. The book has been a godsend for my husband and me. The Happiness Trap has taught us a lot not only about how to defuse difficult emotions and connect with our lives on a real level, but it has also helped us communicate more honestly and openly with one another. There is an entire section about values because after I develop the ability to defuse anxiety and depression, I need a way to connect with my life so that I don’t continue ruminating in it. And if I do something I value, like mindfully playing with my son and baby, most of the time I forget about the anxiety and become fully involved in what I’m doing. Values are wonderful because they can become the guiding posts for life.

Anyway, the book has a great quiz to help determine your values more specifically and I highly recommend it!

Along with reading The Happiness Trap, I began reading memoirs and watching a few YouTube videos, some from Marie Forleo, and watched interviews with my favorite celebrities. It sounds silly, but reading Dick Van Dyke and Maya Angelou and watching Jane Fonda, Oprah, Ellen, Betty White, Mary Tyler Moore, Kate Winslet, and so many other amazing people discuss important topics and life on roundtables, I was inspired. These are people who felt the pain of life and lived meaningfully anyway.

With their inspiration, I sat down with a notebook and started brainstorming. Pretty quickly I had a long list of what was most important to me. I began connecting the values that went together, i.e. self care and eating well–eating well is more of a sub-topic of self care. I ended up with five very firm values. Then I created a bunch of subtopics underneath, then goals under each subtopic, then under each goal, I defined SMALL things I could do every day to help me focus on the goal which would help me focus on the value.

Again, it is through the small things that a meaningful life is made, so I am focusing on those because I get so overwhelmed by the big things. Small is good for me.
The great thing about values is the great thing about the weather. They change. As I grow older, I won’t be focused on raising little children, it will be raising teenagers (heaven help me), then sending them off to college (bah!), and then some of my values will be something totally different. They are supposed to change, but having something concrete (even if they do change) really helps me to engage with my life and not to get overwhelmed, which for me always leads to anxiety.

Focusing on my values has led me to define my life in a real and meaningful way that has led to more accidental mindfulness (is that an oxymoron?) and falling asleep satisfied with how I spent my day instead of anxious about what I did or did not do on my checklist.

Living Anxiously Part Two: Feel it and Do it Anyway

storms

The first part of looking at our fear is just inviting it into our awareness without judgment. We just acknowledge gently that it is there. This brings a lot of relief already. Then, once our fear has calmed down, we can embrace it tenderly and look deeply into its roots, its sources.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, Fear

I wanted to go for a walk. It was the beginning of spring and the birds were starting to sing again. Sunday morning walks are some of my favorites. But Jeff couldn’t go and Owen didn’t want to go. Go for a walk on my own? Fear struck my heart; anxiety kicked in and threatened many untrue worries about what could happen.

But my desire to go on this walk was stronger than those fears. My desire to enjoy the sun and take care of myself is something I value and want to uphold.

I took a deep breath, felt the air in my lungs, and allowed the whirling panic to touch that air, dance with it, and say hello to it. Breathing out slowly, I put on my walking shoes, loaded my baby into the stroller, and walked out the door. The walk was so lovely and the longer I walked, the less anxiety I felt.

As I align my values with my life (see the next post tomorrow), I’ve developed one phrase that keeps me going in some of my most paralyzing moments of anxiety and depression:

“Feel it and do it anyway.”

Anxiety and depression storms come. Bad weather is a part of life. But bad weather does not define living. Sunshine comes too, but sunshine does not define living either. Weather moves, it swirls, it changes. If you live in Idaho, it changes every minute. Our emotions are the same way. They are only internal weather that comes and goes. We can look inwardly, like we’d look out the window, and say, “Hello, sunshine” or “Hello, thunder,” and keep going anyway.

Fighting the storm is what brings the pain. Fighting the anxiety intensifies the anxiety–sometimes ten-fold. Sure, there are days when the storms are too painful to work through. And that’s okay too. But as I’ve continued with this method, the anxiety and depression are a part of me, but they don’t run my life anymore. Gradually, they’ve begun to step back and give the stage to other more meaningful parts of me.

In case you’re interested, here’s a quick run-down of how I treat a mild to moderate anxiety attack:

  1. Anxiety hits, flames begin to build inside my chest
  2. Start to panic
  3. Remember it’s okay–the weather is changing (sometimes it takes a while for me to remember this, but with practice it’s becoming easier)
  4. Say “hello, anxiety” or “hello, depression, I wondered when I’d see you today. I’m going to do the dishes, come along if you’d like.”
  5. Then, and this is the most important part, I let the anxiety or depression stay. Instead of fighting it, I cradle it like I would my little baby, and then I become engaged in the task at hand. I take a few breaths and mindfully wash the dishes–feel the bubbles on my fingers, watch the stream of water run down the cookie sheet. All of it while breathing in and out mindfully. I used to hate washing the dishes. It isn’t so bad when I do it this way.
  6. Usually in a low to moderate anxiety attack, this is enough for it to say, “I’ve been seen. Time to go on my way.” If it isn’t, that’s okay. I feel it and keep going anyway. Small steps. That is all that matters.Small, meaningful moments create a meaningful life. Small is all I need.

As you read, please remember that I am not a therapist. I am not qualified to say that this will work for everyone. My goal in writing down all of this is mainly for me to remember and to maybe, just maybe, help someone else. I forget about these steps a lot, so writing them down on this blog has helped me to remember.

I have learned a lot of these ideas through my therapy sessions and through my reading. If you are interested in learning about defusing difficult emotions, from anxiety and depression to anger and pain, you might want to read The Happiness Trap and/or anything from Thich Nhat Hanh (Fear and From Mud to Lotus have been my favorites so far). They have helped me learn how to recognize the storms and defuse them–and most importantly, to learn that most storms are normal and absolutely and totally okay. Like I said, fighting against those storms will make them much, much worse, so most of the time it is easier to just sit back and watch the rain.

Living Anxiously: My Story

Untitled

Ugh. Anxiety. Am I right?

It seems to be the topic popping up everywhere and so many of those near and dear to me experience it regularly–myself included.

I have been away from this blog for nearly a year and a half, my entire pregnancy and life of my new little boy. With my first baby, postpartum depression hounded me for nearly three years. I still struggle with it. I was so nervous about getting it again that I went to weekly therapy sessions and practiced mindfulness and meditation as often as I thought of it. It helped tremendously. Depression is dark and terrifying. It kept me chained to my bed most of the time and when not my bed, my house, because I was too lethargic to do anything else. I thank God every day that the same lonely darkness did not come back after the birth of this new joy in my life.

One thing that did come, however, was severe anxiety. I don’t often write so personally online. I try to avoid it, but as I’ve struggled and learned new skills, I have felt this tug to share and maybe help someone else or, at the very least, experience some kind of catharsis through writing about it.

Beginning a few months after my baby’s birth, I developed crippling anxiety for no reason that I could understand. My chest would fill with painful flutters with usually no triggers. It was like I was surrounded by fire, but everything around me was happy and bright and normal. I went from depression to anxiety, from darkness to fire. Neither pleasant, neither something I wanted to have in my life, and I found myself retreating again. It’s what I do when things get too hard, I find my sanctuary, my bed. The same one I’ve had since I was fifteen. And I disappear. I disappear into television shows and don’t come back until I am forced to.

The funny thing about coming out of a depression (I’m not totally out yet, but have made so many strides) is that I find myself wanting to take care of myself more. It’s not funny, really. Just really, really amazing. I am discovering what I value and it’s real and genuine and worthwhile. Because I wanted to take care of myself, I decided to take an anti-depressant which would also help with my anxiety. I started it in January. After three weeks, I was starting to feel pretty good. Until I wasn’t.

The fire around me turned into fierce, blue flames and attacked constantly. Even a funny show that had me laughing out loud would quickly turn my laughter into a full-blown hyperventilating panic attack. I lived on the edge of life-halting anxiety for another month before finally deciding to wean off, which was a difficult process too. I have had difficulties with three other anti-depressants in my life, and my therapist and I have concluded that maybe my chemical makeup does not handle SSRIs well. Maybe. That is not the point of this blog post, especially because so many people do so well on them, and I am so happy for anyone who has found peace, medicated or not.

After spending so much of the last four years crippled with depression, I was determined not to go back, not to let this be an excuse to crawl back into my bed again and not live. During this time, I upped my therapy sessions and started reading. Reading like crazy. I want to share some of the things I’ve learned here and include some of my favorite, most helpful books with reviews eventually. I am going to sum it up in four categories, making this a five-part series.

  1. Storms will come, but they will pass too. 

  2. Define my values. 

  3. Mindfulness and practice. 

  4. Living Slowly

There is so much more to learn. So much more to discover. And so much life left to live. I will release each post every other day for the next four days. If anyone does read this, please comment with what has helped you in your own struggles and let’s learn from each other.

I also hope if anyone reading this needs help, is struggling, and can’t find hope, that they will look for it, really look for it, because no matter the weather, hope is there. If you are really struggling and don’t know how to go on, please seek help. Go to your doctor, call a close friend, call the national suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255), do something. You are worth it. Life is beautiful on the other side, I promise. Even a very small, very simple life can be a very satisfying, romantic one. You are not alone. I promise that too.

Mrs. Astor and Twentieth Century Socialites: The Original Kardashians

kimk lina astor

I’ve been wanting to write this post for a very long time. I have not finished with my Lusitania trip, not by a long shot, but I saw an article just now that reminded me what I’ve been wanting to write–and it’s about the Kardashians.

I’ve been reading Maureen E. Montgomery’s book Displaying Women as I prepare to write my favorite era in American history, 1890-1918. And in between reading this very academic book, I unwind with an episode or two of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Let no one say I’m one-note.

Montgomery devotes an entire chapter to the social calendar of the upper-class women in New York society during the early twentieth century. Specifically how “what Mrs. Astor did and when she did it became benchmarks for New York society.” According to Montgomery, Mrs. Carolina Astor’s movements and lifestyle influenced the timing of the majority of high society events in New York and “New Yorkers could set their clocks by her movements (19). So much so that the World wrote of her social calendar:

Her dances are always upon Mondays, her state dinners always upon Thursdays. She has always had the same butler, Thomas Haig, since 1876. She sails for Europe on the first steamer after Ash Wednesday. She keeps the same apartment in Paris. She returns always on the same week in June. Her Newport villa, Beechwood, is always open on the same date. She comes to town in the same week in October. And so each year is rounded out. (19)

I bring up Mrs. Astor’s profound impact on the whole of society (including those in Great Britain but more on that later) because I was keenly reminded of those women who have so much to say about our culture today, including the Kardashians.

In the early twentieth century, well-to-do women proved their status by the amount of leisure time they had and used that leisure time to “display” themselves in the best way possible–expensive clothing, high-end jewelry, etc., and to give the rest of America something to aspire to. As I read Displaying Women, I saw the beginnings of the Kardashians, Hiltons, and the rest. While I hesitate to say the beginnings since high classes have always influenced the rest of society, I see the beginning of the Pinterest-obsessed, reality-TV-binging culture. The early 1900s saw the beginning of the paparazzi who followed the high society women and reported their every move in gossip columns and newspapers. It saw the first department stores (anyone seen Mr. Selfridge’s or The Paradise?) where middle class women could try to copy the high society’s looks with skin care,

hair tutorials,

hairtutorialand even the first selfie.

first selfie_dailymail

American society followed the displaying women and began to imitate each other and I don’t think it’s too far of a stretch to say that it eventually led to Pinterest and even the new Kardashian apps where you can get an even more in-depth look into how the Kardashians live their lives.

Am I the only one intrigued by this connection? I find it so exciting to see parallels in our society and the Edwardian Era. Anyone else see any connections?

My Ireland Trip: May 7 at sunrise

cobh001

When I woke to the sun coming through my gorgeous B&B, I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I dressed quickly, donned a Gibson Girl hairstyle for the occasion, and stepped into the morning sun. The dew still danced on the grass and the sunrise was golden over the silver water.

Crossing the small road, I walked onto a tall bridge that overlooked the water and there stood Queen Victoria, built by the same company that built the Lusitania, bathed in the light.

Since I was about thirteen years old, I have commemorated both the sinking of the Titanic and the sinking of the Lusitania. My mother even let me stay home from school once or twice on May 7, and it has always been my special day of writing. I spend time thinking about the passengers of the liner and what they may have experienced, writing about the sinking, studying about it, and every now and then, feeling it so deeply my heart shook. I never imagined that I would be in Ireland in 2015. I dreamed of it, sure, but the realist in me didn’t want the romantic in me to raise my hopes too much.

But there I was. Overlooking the same land where the survivors of the disaster touched solid ground again and where a few of the victims were buried in it. I listened to my Lusitania soundtrack–the same soundtrack I’ve listened to for thirteen years and sat on a bench, smelling the salty air and noticing the clear sky–the only clear sky of my nine days in Ireland. Through all my study and all my imagining, the disaster never seemed quite as tangible as it did then. Suddenly the characters in my stories, the real people, became real to me. I felt like Brock Lovett,  when he said, “I never got it. I never let it in.”

That morning, I let it in, and to this day I feel changed. Changed because the disaster has so much to offer, so much to teach, so much for us to remember. Twelve hundred people died; 761 survived and were never the same again. All because of a war. And while who is at fault is not exactly clear–except for the man who shot the torpedo–what is clear is the painful damage that war brings. What good has ever come out of a war? The Lusitania disaster was one of the first modern examples of innocent civilians being murdered for the profit of war. Pearl Harbor was next, then Hiroshima, then Nagasaki, countless others.

Sitting on the shore 100 years later, I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of human nature, and the knowledge that even through all that, human kind continues to trudge forward. And I prayed that one day we could learn from our mistakes.

Trip to Ireland: Cobh Heritage Center

IMG_6100
Cobh Harbor and Cunard’s Queen Victoria on May 7, 2015.

If you’re looking for a place to explore maritime history, go no further than Cobh (pronounced “cove”), Ireland. This place is right on the water and has seen ocean liners from the very beginning of immigration during the potato famine to sending prisoners in horrific circumstances to Australia to the Titanic‘s last stop before setting off on its ill-fated voyage to rescuing the Lusitania survivors to the morning of May 7, 2015, when Queen Victoria came into the harbor.

Cobh Heritage Centre

After a very traumatic experience of my three-year-old hiding from us in the museum gift shop for fifteen minutes leading to my frantic search all over the harbor (and as a testament to Irish hospitality, every one around us helped in the search), we finally found him silently crouching behind some sweatshirts. I experienced the Cobh Heritage Center alone. I wish now that I had insisted on everyone joining me because it was the best museum in Cobh. Looking from the outside, I did not expect it, but the small museum is filled with history, artifacts, and very informative  and exciting exhibits.

Cobh (III): Cobh Heritage Centre

My favorite part (besides the Lusitania artifacts) about the Cobh Heritage Center is that it takes place in the original station with signs pointing the way for first class, second class, and third class passengers. The small museum’s location is historical in itself. If you haven’t noticed by now, at every historical place I visit, I spend time taking it all in, imagining what it would have looked like, smelled like, and felt like throughout time.

At Cobh’s Heritage Center, I imagined what it would have been like for victims of the Lusitania disaster to stumble into this station, dazed with the day’s tragedy–many unable to comprehend that their lives would never be the same.

Visit the Heritage Center’s website for some great pictures of their exhibits. I will just highlight a few of my favorite pieces from the museum here:

IMG_6049

  • Artifacts from previous voyages on the Lusitania, including stationary, images, and passenger accounts.
  • The room portraying survivors of the Lusitania in the Queen’s Hotel comforting one another. So powerful–it was like stepping back in history.
IMG_6044
Message in a bottle sent from the Titanic.
  • The message in a bottle. When the Titanic began to sink, a passenger took it upon himself to write a message and send it in a bottle to his family. It eventually made it to shore and the Heritage Center has it on display.
  • A very well compiled video of actual footage of the Lusitania. I wish I knew where to locate this online. I am almost positive that I saw it on YouTube before we left, but I could be wrong. If anyone knows how to locate it, let me know.
  • The replica of a ship’s deck, making me feel like I was walking back in time.

I would go back to Cobh in a heartbeat, and there’s so much more to share about it. I visited one more museum on Wednesday, and then spent Thursday night experiencing the centenary events. I will share all of that soon. For now, let me know if you have any questions or would like more tourist information, like where to eat and stay. We stayed at the perfect bed and breakfast in Cobh with a delightful owner. It was right on the water and only a few minutes walk to city center.

My Trip to Ireland: The Nomadic

SS Nomadic
SS Nomadic

On our way to the Titanic Belfast, we passed this small boat that looked like a miniature Titanic. I had read a bit about it before we left, but afraid of the added expense, never assumed we would go. Then, as we (I, rather reluctantly) left the Titanic Belfast museum, we walked right toward it. I was very curious about what it was and its significance with the Titanic and our guide from the Discovery Tour informed me that it was the tender ship, the original boat that once took famous passengers–John Jacob Astor included–from Cherbourg, France to the Titanic since the Titanic was much too large to go to the pier to pick them up. John Jacob Astor, his wife Madeleine, and many other first and second class passengers of the Titanic had actually set foot on this small tender ship.

The SS Nomadic was built by White Star Line; therefore, it had much of the same materials and craftsmanship that the Titanic did, which is why they looked so similar. The Nomadic had been found just a few years before and was about to be scrapped, but Belfast Titanic museum saved it and restored her to her former glory, using some of the same materials as the White Star Line did 100 years earlier. You can see the restoration process on their Flickr page. One of my favorite stories was this:

The Nomadic had been looted at some point in her history. Thieves snuck aboard and took apart the most expensive pieces of her, including the clock over the bar, and sold them for money. Then, years later, after Belfast Titanic put out requests to find a clock like the original to replace above the bar, an auction house replied and sent a clock to them that looked like the picture. The clock fit like a glove. Historians for the Titanic Belfast compared the serial number of the new clock with the serial number of the original clock–it was the very same clock that hung over John Jacob Astor when the Nomadic sailed for the Titanic.

Steering the Nomadic
Steering the Nomadic

The best part about the Nomadic was that nearly everything was open for exploration. You can turn the wheel, climb the ladders, sit on original furniture, play chess, kids could play with toys downstairs, and you can even play dress up. My three-year-old had an absolute ball and did not want to leave. He loved the projection of the captain who told about the ship.

Nomadic_002

And, not wanting to be a tourist, I was just going to let the bow of the ship go without reenacting my favorite scene from the film Titanic, but at my father-in-law’s suggestion, I decided I was a tourist and I might as well act like one. Jeff and I stood at the bow of the Nomadic and he sang “Come, Josephine, in my Flying Machine” with our arms outstretched.

IMG_5860
“Come, Josephine, in my flying machine”

Needless to say, the Nomadic was one of the highlights of the entire trip.

My Trip to Ireland: A Review of the Belfast Titanic Museum

Titanic Belfast.
Titanic Belfast.

Our second day in Ireland, I woke late in the Hilton-Belfast exhausted from staying up all night with a jet-lagged three-year-old who only wanted to play from midnight to 5:00 a.m., but as soon as I pulled back the curtains to view the industrial city with silver clouds and streaks of golden sunlight over the brown buildings, I remembered my itinerary.

The Belfast Titanic museum, the same museum that had once housed my picture, but thanks to the end of James Cameron’s exhibit, I’d missed it. One day!

Titanic Quarter
Titanic Quarter

I dressed quickly, scarfed down our free breakfast of sausage and eggs, and we all began the jaunt to Titanic quarter. Before the trip, I’d studied this walk on Google Maps and had expected the walk to to be much longer than it actually was. As we walked, I imagined what it might have been like 100 years ago; men lining up to go to work preparing for another grueling day with little pay and backbreaking, dangerous labor surrounded by the smell of melting steel and burning coal.

We walked along the water and I wondered if the water molecules had any memory of holding the Titanic, gently rocking her in the bay.

Belfast Titanic museum in the background. (And a photobomber)
Belfast Titanic museum in the background. (And a photobomber)

Then I turned the corner and there, over the water, stood the spectacular new museum. Designed to mimic not only the Titanic’s bow, but the iceberg that sealed her fate, and the steel that built her, and looking from above, a star from the White Star Line’s flag. The amount of careful thought that went into the symbolism of the museum astounds me still.

The museum itself was impressive. It was more focused on Belfast’s contribution to the Titanic than on the actual voyage and sinking, with a ride around the recreated slipways so that you could really see what it was like for those men who built her. The sinking portion, though, was the part that took my breath away. It took place in a dark room, black. With only a video of the ship sinking and the telegrams sent and received by the Titanic as she sunk. This room reminded me of something I had forgotten. The Titanic sank in the middle of the pitch black ocean. Nothing was around them. I had never before imagined what it would have felt like to be on the ship surrounded by nothing, how lonely and final and terrifying it must have been to even be placed on a lifeboat and sent into the darkness with no idea if help was coming, if getting on a lifeboat was just prolonging the inevitable. The ship would have seemed so much safer than a small lifeboat in the middle of a dark abyss.

CQD was the signal Titanic used to ask for help, sending the code over the water to anyone that would hear. Titanic was also the first to use the now common SOS, but CQD was what its operators, Harold Bride and Jack Phillips, used the most.

The dark room in the Belfast Titanic museum was filled with telegrams sent back and forth from the Marconi officers to other ships. And then at the end of the room on the wall was the final telegram from the Titanic:

CQ….

He, whichever operator it was, never finished the “D.” What happened? Was Harold Bride shouting at Jack Phillips, telling him to get out? Did the room fill with water? So many questions and no answers.

IMG_5861
Owen standing in one of the points of the museum overlooking the slipway where Titanic was built.

The Discovery Tour was worth every penny and my favorite part of the whole visit. Our guide was terrific. She took her time and I felt her passion with every word. We explored the shipbuilding offices and peered out an original window from over 100 years ago, and I imagined what it would have been like to see the steel giant on the slipway looking out the same window Thomas Andrews must have used hundreds of times.

The original window in the drawing office where Titanic was put on paper before being built.
The original window in the drawing office where Titanic was put on paper before being built.

Walking up and down the slipway where the museum had recreated the boat deck, down to the placement of the benches, and near the bow was a memorial created for Thomas Andrews by his nephew. My respect and love for Thomas Andrews increased, which I didn’t even think was possible owing to how much respect and love I already carried for him.

The slipways.
The slipways.

Walking the “deck” was powerful for me. The visit was very profound and spiritual for me. The whole trip to Ireland was like my very own Mecca. Ireland connected me with history, my teenage self, and my current self in a way no other trip could have. But more of that later.