My Dad says: leave this one 'till you're sober.

I say, 'eff that! REAL TALK (aka drunkin' ramblings...) Woot!

*Please note: before writing this post I woke up my cousin Greggie in the interior of Alberta to run this past him. I have his approval. I also have the approval of my Father. He says: WAIT. I say: EFF THAT. He says: I GOT YO BACK. I say: I LOVE YOU POPS. So, you know....REAL TALK!

...also there are lots of dot, dot, dots....and swearing....sorry, I'm not sorry...

Masan, Korea. 30 days ago.

Me: I really think we need 4 stoppers on this piece.

Lashing Foreman: I don't think so.

Me: Yes, I really think so.

Lashing Foreman: No, I don't think so.

Me: Let me get the SuperCargo.

I charge inside...I find the supercargo and say:

Me: We need 4 stoppers on this piece

Supercargo: If you want stoppers tell the Lashing Foreman

Me: I DID.

Supercargo: You're the CM. If you want that - tell him. It's your ship. You're the one who has to sail with it - tell him.

I charge outside....I'm on a mission to find that freakin' Lashing Foreman....

No Lashing Foreman to be found.....

Radio: Chief Mate, Chief Mate, Captain....

Me: Go ahead Captain....

Radio: Please meet me in front of the house.....

Me: Roger that Captain....

I get to the front of the house. There is the Captain, the Lashing Foreman, the Supercargo....

Captain: Chief Mate, they are recommending 4 stoppers on this heavy lift. Why didn't you tell me that there were insufficient lashings on this piece?!

ME: Yes, I was just discussing this with the Lashing Foreman who disagreed with me.

Lashing Foreman: Yes, Yes! 4 stoppers required!

Captain: Good, Good! 4 stoppers required!

Let's fastforward 1.5 months.

I've just completed 127 days onboard.

I've been awake 3 days. I haven't drank in many, many days. I just started my period (I warned you: REAL TALK.) It's a TRIFECTA!

BAR. CHARLESTON, S.C.

Captain: There are three Times you should have called me this rotation....

Me: When?! When should I have called you?!

Captain: Like, the situation when the Port Captain wanted more stoppers....

Me: You mean, like when you didn't even give me 15 minutes to solve my own problems. You listened to the Port Captain before even listening to my point of view. I said I wanted the stoppers and he didn't give them to me....

Captain: So, you should have called me.....

Me: You need to give me more than 15 minutes to solve my problems because I'm a woman.....

(Please insert: UGLY CRY.....)

Yes, my friends you read right. UGLY CRY. Like as in, U-HUG-UGH-LY. CRY.

I say this somewhat cavalierly because I'm dancing around in the living room to Pandora Radio well in my cups....

...like the kind of well in your cups that makes you leave voice mails begging your freinds to: pick.up.the.phone...even though you're well in your cups...

At the bar: Following ugly cry - there were hugs - and don't worries - and it's okays....

I boarded my plane and wrote this in my journal:

“I just cried at the airport with the Captain and the Chief. So, no, the shipping industry hasn’t reached gender equality. Sure, I wrote ROAR....about being a woman in a male dominated industry but fuck that. Lets go for some Real Talk! Talk Real. Have you ever tried to weld some stoppers on a heavy left? No...well guess what?! You may have to get the Captain!!!!!!!! Here’s the problem...when you say it’s a problem because you’re a woman....then you’re a problem for women...and when you don’t.....then you’re a problem for women...”

Here's the drunk at the kitchen counter real talk...

The problem with talking about when you overcome strife is that you're not letting people know there IS strife.

I can talk about how My MEOW is 'effin FIERCE but, it doesn't explain that I still cry in my kitchen when I'm drunk, blogging and, boat lagged. It doesn't explain that I have to fight with a Lashing Foreman for 4 freakin' stoppers. It doesn't explain that after 8 years of sailing I can get drunk, and tired, and hormonal and cry. It doens't explain that crying leaves me feeling ashamed.

...and it especially doesn't explain that although I'm horrified, my shipmates probably accept me more than I realize.

It doesn't explain that I can call my Cuz in Northern Alberta and he'll talk to me until I'm done talking......because even though he's a dude...and would probably give a woman in his truck shit about taking more than 15 minutes to get her shit straight...he feels me...and backs me up...

...because Women want to believe that they're equal - and men want them to be equal - and there is still a gap - and the regular people - the non academics - the non sociologists - the non psychologists - don't know why it's there.

We Women (ahem, I) say shit like: This is 2013. I have ALL OF THE OPPORTUNITIES. I have made ALL OF THE CHOICES. I have ALL OF THE PEERS.

...and Women like me, we feel grateful because we're not the first...I wasn't hazed...I have mentors...I enjoy my life at sea...

....but yet...I'm crying at the bar...trying to explain what it's like to have to argue my point on deck...

...and maybe I'm wrong but, my Shipmates - they want to understand - and maybe they think they do...but, they've never had to argue their point on deck...or maybe they have had to argue their point on deck and I'm the one who doesn't understand. How the 'eff would I know?! No one talks about their feelings at sea! No one cries at the bar when they're exhausted and hormonal! What the hell is normal? Am I abnormal? Has some woman somewhere cried like I have?!

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS NORMAL WHEN YOU'RE A SAILOR - FEMALE OR OTHERWISE. REAL SAILORS KNOW THIS - AND RESPECT YOU ANYWAYS (or so I like to tell myself so I don't continue crying at my kitchen counter).

Except in order to protect myself I have to remind myself: Mutual respect isn't a given.

If my shipmates turned on me right now I wouldn't be surprised. If I showed up at a function and heard that so-and-so said I cried at the bar I wouldn't be surprised. I live with a constant fear of my reputation. I've placed my reputation above all else all these years....and for what? I can guarantee that I'm still talked about - negatively or otherwise. It's become the status quo.

So here I am. Crying in the kitchen - because I cried at the bar.

If I ignore this - if I allow myself to never speak of it again - am I doing some young lady sailor somewhere a diservice? I don't know. So here goes...

I'm thirty. With eight years in the industry. I'm a Chief Mate.

I've seen oil spills. I've been stuck in broken down life boats. I've seen bullets fired at pirates. I've seen bearings explode. I've seen Longshoreman shit in ballast tanks. I've untangled a bird nested wire on a winch. I've stapled someones head when it got split open by a pipe. I've hosed vomit off the deck. I've peed down the hawsepipe.

I've gotten emotional and cried at the bar...

My Sea Daddy told me when I was young, 'Megan, there is NO crying on tankers!'. Trust me, I'm horrified that I cried at the bar. But, it's probably a far bigger problem for me than it is for anyone else. If you think that my Captain is day two into his vacation thinking about my crying jag you're mental. But, that doesn't negate the fact that for the entirity of my career I've done my ultimate best to adhere to the no crying rule...my ultimate best...

In the event that there actually is some young lady sailor somewhere reading this. I'm going to tell you what to do. I'm not going to let you flail, wondering if you're going to shrivel up and shrink away to a shoreside job before you're ready, hoping your name never comes up in shipboard conversation. No ma'am here's what you're going to do:

YOU'RE GONNA KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON!

You go back to work in four months and work your ass off. You make schedules to maintain rest hours, you negotiate union grievances, you stand watch and try your best not to mow down fisherman, you play counselor to messed up sailors, you wake up in the middle of the night and yell at Longshoreman, you scrub doodies, you enjoy a coffee on the bridge wing and, you know in your heart of hearts....you're keepin' up with the best of 'em....

...and when people ask you, 'whats it like to be a woman at sea?' you tell them:

"well, sometimes I cry at the bar about making sure the Lashing Foreman adds 4 stoppers but, I'm pretty sure my Shipmates think I'm awesome. I don't know if you've heard but, apparently, My MEOW is 'effin FIERCE...."