Heavy waves forcefully rocked the small boat as I leaned toward the fresh air from under the tarp draped above us. My head spun as I held back the urge to vomit. “Why the hell am I here? I’m miserable!” The first night of my Outward Bound trip was the scariest, with seven days of boat life ahead of me. I was on a 30-foot sailboat in the rocky waters of the Atlantic Ocean, huddled with 13 strangers under a tarp protecting us from the rain and waves. Several people had vomited off the side of the boat while others moaned in misery. I had not thought to bring any medicine for seasickness.

This was one of the countless challenges I faced during my nautical adventure, living, eating and sleeping on a boat. I was 18 years old, fresh out of high school, and I wanted an experience that would help me become a more independent person.

Outward Bound is a program known for its action-packed wilderness trips that challenge participants to extremes and help build character. This trip was the perfect opportunity to help me become more self-reliant, something I needed before my first year at the University of Kansas. I chose the Maine sailing expedition; it sounded fun to cruise around the ocean, and it didn’t require any prior boating experience.

I guess I had expected a cushier boat and better weather. I didn’t realize exactly what I had gotten myself into until that first night, nauseated and disheartened. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide and definitely no warm bed to sleep in.

Through the week, my tolerance for the steady motion of the sea improved. We explored the waters of the Maine coast, anchoring in coves at night to sleep on the boat. We stopped at islands to explore; we even got to spend two luxurious nights sleeping in rustic tents on land at the Outward Bound-operated Hurricane Island.

I can most clearly remember the extremes of the trip. The worst times were rowing for hours in dead air. If there was no wind we didn’t have the option to just hang out. We had to be moving toward that day’s destination. We would take turns rowing and rowing with thick, heavy wood oars. One day we rowed for four hours straight. We sang Cat Stevens and Paul Simon songs to pass the time.

The good times were euphoric. We spent several of the days basking in the sun while a steady wind transported our boat effortlessly. Our 14-person crew would talk and laugh as if we had known each other for years. Throughout the week, I grew to love these strangers like close friends.

The last day was the worst and the best. We woke to fog and rain. We rowed all morning, without wind or sun. By the afternoon, the wind picked up and we were flying along to our destination. The wind was now so strong it was producing 3-foot-high waves that steadily crashed against the boat. Two other girls and I lay helplessly together, soaked in cold, salty water, our heads whirling. By night, we were anchored in the harbor of the Outward Bound School in Rockland, Maine, depleted of all energy. Our asses itched and stung from being wet all day. When dinnertime came, we realized we had forgotten to pack pasta noodles and we were at the end of our food rations.

We spotted two sea-faring boys in a motorboat and desperately yelled to them, asking if they’d bring us some pasta. The teen boys, Amos and Obe, asked us if we liked lobster. Ten minutes later they came back with two live lobsters from their traps. Tears formed in my eyes. One of the guides broke out a huge pot and started boiling water on the propane stove. The last night of my trip we ate fresh, probably the freshest I will ever eat, lobster.

This meal was the culmination of eight days of struggle and triumph. Even though I was the one who wanted to be on that boat, once I was actually on it, I questioned my decision. By nature, I am not one who enjoys situations where I am physically uncomfortable. Even though I was prepared for a rough experience, I think I romanticized the trip before the start.

But the trip did what it was supposed to do; My Outward Bound experience thickened my skin and made me a stronger person physically and emotionally. The situations I faced out in that ocean help me to know that I can overcome small problems here, such as having to walk home in the rain, problems that might seem tragic otherwise. I will always have a layer of skin that formed out in that ocean; it reassures me that I am more capable than I may think.