Emotionally Adrift

They say therapy is good for the soul. Me and my sister say therapy is expensive, emotional vulnerability is terrifying, and we already have a fully-qualified support system in the form of each other—plus two kayaks and a cooler full of beers.

My sister and I are what I like to call "emotionally unavailable with a side of avoidance issues." Instead of sitting across from a licensed professional and confronting our feelings like well-adjusted adults, we choose the more scenic route: kayaking into the emotional abyss while gently day-drinking on a lake.

Imagine this: two women paddling in opposite directions but somehow managing to stay emotionally codependent, yelling "It's not me, it's literally everyone else!" over the sound of the water lapping on the side of the boat and the internal noise of our repressed childhood trauma. That's our version of couples therapy.

We call it "Kayak Therapy." and no one has to pay a therapist. There's no waiting room. No judging and you don't have to lay on a sofa while a balding man quietly nods his head at you. Its just nature, sisterhood, and a mutual agreement to never go too deep emotionally unless we've had at least two drinks and can blame it on the alcohol later.

Now, don’t get me wrong—this isn’t just about blaming the world for our problems while floating in a $300 inflatable boat. (Okay, maybe it is.) But it’s also about choosing your confidant wisely. And when I say wisely, I mean absolutely avoid the snake in the grass wearing a best-friend costume.

See, sometimes you think you’re opening up to a safe person—someone you trust, someone who knows the lyrics to your pain-filled inner monologue and then boom. You’re mid-rant, spiraling about how Karen at work stole your spreadsheet format AND your lunch, and suddenly that “friend” is taking mental notes to use against you.

Meanwhile, my sister and I have a pact. What happens on the lake, stays on the lake. Unless it’s hilarious, in which case it goes straight to the group chat with zero context and no apologies.

Kayak Therapy has rules:

1. No judgment—unless it's directed at someone we both hate. Obviously.

2. All emotional revelations must be followed by a snack break.

3. If you cry, you have to paddle extra.

4. If your kayak flips, it’s God punishing you for opening up too much.

In all seriousness (but not too much, let's not get carried away), it's comforting to have someone who gets it. Someone who won’t hand you a tissue but will hand you a beer and say, “Yeah, screw that guy.” It’s the kind of raw support that only siblings or fellow emotionally-stunted adults can provide.

So no, we’re not going to real therapy. Not yet. But we are paddling through life’s crap one vent session at a time—blaming everyone else for our problems while floating in circles and pretending that counts as cardio.

And honestly? It works. Mostly. Unless we run into a snake. Then it’s every emotionally unavailable woman for herself.