Learning to Sail, Learning to Live

Jude's Journey

When I moved onto Helios, I knew almost nothing about sailing. Surprisingly, it was my idea to abandon our land-based lives and move onto a boat. So, why did I do it?

Richard loved sailing and spent hours watching sailing channels on YouTube, but he had never suggested we make it our lifestyle. It wasn’t until I shared a story about friends who had lived on a sailboat for years that I asked, “Can we do that?” His response? A thoughtful “Sure,” after a full half-second of consideration.

At the time, we were both in high-stress jobs. I was the lead psychologist at a school in Melbourne, grappling with the pandemic’s toll on students and staff. Richard was managing IT systems for Victoria’s COVID response—stressful, relentless work. The dream of sailing away, living simply, and sharing adventures with Richard became a beacon of hope.

Twelve months later, we had sold everything: houses, cars, boats, and handbags—gone. We traded our established, structured lives for an uncertain but exciting future.

A Rough Start

Although I had no sailing experience, I trusted that I could make it work. I saw myself as smart, strong, fit, and positive. But I also knew the transition would be hard. As a psychologist, I understood that much of our self-concept comes from our achievements and how others see us. On the boat, my daily accomplishments amounted to very little and my skills meant nothing.

Suddenly, I was a novice—at everything. I didn’t know the first thing about sailing, and the skills I had spent decades mastering didn’t translate to this new life. The first summer was humbling. My daily "achievements" were making the bed and cooking meals—things I had mastered as a teenager.

I had lost my sense of pride in myself. There were moments of tears and frustration. I felt like I had fallen so far, from a capable professional to someone who couldn’t even tie a proper knot.

A Mindset Shift

As any psychologist would, I gave myself a good talking-to. I realised that my self-worth had been tied to achievements—career accomplishments, possessions and even the success of my children. But when we’re gone, none of that will matter.

Eulogies don’t list career highlights, degrees, or the size of someone’s house. They celebrate a person’s impact on others: the love they gave, the joy they spread, and the values they lived by.

So, I let go of my career-focused resume and started redefining success. I focused on what really matters: kindness, resilience, and the ability to adapt. Slowly, my perspective shifted. I started working on my ‘eulogy resume’ - to be the person I wanted to be remembered as.

New Achievements

Now, my achievements look very different. They’re about learning to sail, troubleshooting mechanical issues, and navigating unknown waters—literally and figuratively. They’re about building relationships with the incredible people we meet along the way and finding joy in the simple act of watching a sunset from the deck.

This journey has been about more than learning to sail; it’s been about learning to live. Trading the familiar for the unknown has taught me more about myself than I ever imagined.

And now? I’m proud of what I accomplish each day, whether it’s docking the boat, reading the weather, or just finding peace in the moment. Life aboard Helios isn’t always easy, but it’s always real—and that’s more than enough for me.