"Before you leave this bathroom, you have to believe this: you are beautiful. And him? No tiene ni un brillo" (he is worth nothing, he has no brightness in your life).
It was my last night in Chile. My last night in South America. My last night of the life I had been creating with him. I was feeling all sorts of emotions, and the relationship front we'd kept up for the past two months had finally come tumbling down when Yesse, my beautiful new Chilean friend and confidant, asked me what was heavy on my heart. Her womanly intuition had picked up on the weight.
The details aren't important anymore. Simply put, I saw yellow flags where I should've seen red. The fact of the matter is that it ended. It was terrible--oh my God, was it terrible. The deepest sadness I'd ever experienced had settled inside me before we'd even left for the trip, but I pressed on thinking that we could work with what was left. It wasn't enough. The worst part of the entire ordeal, though, was that I had become convinced that I wasn't enough. I was not enough for him because I was not enough for myself. And that's what Yesse was working to correct on that last night while touching up her mascara in the bathroom of the Spaniard's apartment whose birthday we were celebrating up on the rooftop in Santiago.
Landing on North American soil, driving immediately to Alabama to take a job, starting a new life without the man with whom I'd lived every second of the past year and a half, with whom I'd planned a marriage, babies, life; doing none of the things that my life had been leading up to since I'd met him? Probably (definitely) the scariest point in my life. He was first my best friend and partner, had been for years, but second, my future. Without realizing it and as embarrassing as it is for me to admit, I had become dangerously dependent on him for security, happiness, and confidence. The last time I saw him was when we parted at the airport. It felt like my heart had stopped and the wind was knocked out of me. When he drove away, I had a panic attack as my sister held me tight and let me deflate.
A scary, deep depression is what I would've faced had my friends and family, the most beautiful people on planet earth and beyond, not come swooping in to the rescue. I am emotionally surrounded by the most wonderful range of bests, each with their own level of involvement and advice, but all with the same steady out pour of support. Each one of them represents a breath of fresh air, and I'm resuscitated during each visit with which I'm gifted.
What a heartbreaking yet simultaneously beautiful and necessary journey I've been on this year. I am better for it! I expected this trip to have answers, but it also had lessons. So many chapters have ended that it's time to start a new book. But before I begin writing anew, I have to tell you my stories from the one I've just finished. Had my iPad not been stolen early on in the journey, you would've long since read them, but unfortunately life had other plans. I decided that, rather than trying to type them all out on my phone to you, I'd just wait and digest them myself first, let them come when the time was right. I don't know if now is that time, but I do know that what I'm sure is my early onset Alzheimer's will soon be pushing details out of my head, and I have to write them before they slip away like waves upon the sand.
The truth is that I am constantly narrating my life in my head as the memories are being made. Things that I've seen and done through which I wish I could've held your hand. Things I know would've made you smile or cry too. So many people have supported and loved me through my adventures that I feel as if they're there strolling beside, living them with me. The most flattering thing in the world to me is when you ask me questions. Some of you asked me to blog, and just the thought of your taking the time to read my little rinky-dink writings riddled with ADHD and insanity and beauty and terror and lots of boredom in betwixt has to be just about the biggest compliment I could ever receive. I write for myself to look back and remember my happiest times, and so one day my nieces and nephews (God-willing) can read about the madness that was my young life and realize that they don't need to have their shit perfectly together to be "completely and perfectly and incandescently happy," as Jane Austen so eloquently put it. But also because you asked. Because you care enough to take time to read my stories, and because of that I will always make time to write them.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
hello again, you!
Right now.
That's my goal for living. As much as it may pain my friends and family (Cain Anne admits to losing sleep over my lack of a retirement account, and I love her even more for it), it's my way of life.
My five fabulous readers, I'm so happy to have you back. Let me tell you where I've been.
I said "hasta luego" to you in March of 2013 after I had returned back to the states from Thailand. I was teaching English and journalism at a small school in Alabama for the rest of that spring semester. During the summer, I traveled around visiting friends and family whom I'd missed the previous year. I got my bridesmaid on for two of my best friends' weddings, and later on that year, two more would get engaged. It was a good year for love.
However, not everything was rainbows and butterflies. I had no idea what to do with myself after Thailand. I was at a loss about what to do career-wise, having applied for what seemed like thousands of jobs (27 I think it was?) and hearing back from none (ok 3, but still). So I accepted a position as a personal assistant to some hot shot doctor in NYC. I'd always promised myself I'd live there one day, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Long story short, the concrete jungle nor my uppity boss were what my dreams were made of, and I left (right after waving to Jimmy Fallon and the Roots as their float passed me in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade). I came home, loved on my family, and wiped the drawing board clean once more.
2014 more than made up for anything the last lacked. I spent most of January throwing snowballs through Colorado, exploring and hiking around all of Utah's national parks, testing out the waters of Idaho's hot springs, and adding to my library from a used book store in Wyoming's capital. I fell so hard and fast for the beauty of the West that I loaded my car up and moved there in February. I skied, I ran, I hiked, I ate, I drank, I hiked more so I could eat and drink more, and I was madly in love with it all. I had plans to backpack through South America, but they were postponed twice because I was living so intensely in Denver. However, Peru, Argentina, and Chilé's calls to me were growing too loud to ignore, and as it had been a while since an adventure, I booked the ticket.
I learned two phrases from my Spanish 1 class in high school.
1. No hablo Español.
2. Puedo ir al baño? (Learning this phrase was essential to escaping class, which I did every
chance I got, which is why I know only these two phrases)
I am proud to say that both have come in handy during the 16 days I've been here so far. The rest of my Spanish vocabulary is slowly but surely (but more slowly than surely) coming along.
I've reached the point of now. How do I begin to explain what I've seen so far? The problem is that nothing seems important enough to tell, yet nothing is too meaningless to leave out. I wish I could've fit each of you in my backpack--I am proud to report that I am a much better packer than my European adventure days, although it does help that there's not an H&M tempting me from every corner.
I arrived in Lima, Peru on December 31, 2014. I have allotted a few months for this trip, but have no exact return date. My plan is to fill up as many weeks as I can with culture and all that comes with it, and so far I'm sticking to it perfectly. I'd be positively delighted if you'd join me. Ahorita!
That's my goal for living. As much as it may pain my friends and family (Cain Anne admits to losing sleep over my lack of a retirement account, and I love her even more for it), it's my way of life.
My five fabulous readers, I'm so happy to have you back. Let me tell you where I've been.
I said "hasta luego" to you in March of 2013 after I had returned back to the states from Thailand. I was teaching English and journalism at a small school in Alabama for the rest of that spring semester. During the summer, I traveled around visiting friends and family whom I'd missed the previous year. I got my bridesmaid on for two of my best friends' weddings, and later on that year, two more would get engaged. It was a good year for love.
However, not everything was rainbows and butterflies. I had no idea what to do with myself after Thailand. I was at a loss about what to do career-wise, having applied for what seemed like thousands of jobs (27 I think it was?) and hearing back from none (ok 3, but still). So I accepted a position as a personal assistant to some hot shot doctor in NYC. I'd always promised myself I'd live there one day, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Long story short, the concrete jungle nor my uppity boss were what my dreams were made of, and I left (right after waving to Jimmy Fallon and the Roots as their float passed me in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade). I came home, loved on my family, and wiped the drawing board clean once more.
2014 more than made up for anything the last lacked. I spent most of January throwing snowballs through Colorado, exploring and hiking around all of Utah's national parks, testing out the waters of Idaho's hot springs, and adding to my library from a used book store in Wyoming's capital. I fell so hard and fast for the beauty of the West that I loaded my car up and moved there in February. I skied, I ran, I hiked, I ate, I drank, I hiked more so I could eat and drink more, and I was madly in love with it all. I had plans to backpack through South America, but they were postponed twice because I was living so intensely in Denver. However, Peru, Argentina, and Chilé's calls to me were growing too loud to ignore, and as it had been a while since an adventure, I booked the ticket.
I learned two phrases from my Spanish 1 class in high school.
1. No hablo Español.
2. Puedo ir al baño? (Learning this phrase was essential to escaping class, which I did every
chance I got, which is why I know only these two phrases)
I am proud to say that both have come in handy during the 16 days I've been here so far. The rest of my Spanish vocabulary is slowly but surely (but more slowly than surely) coming along.
I've reached the point of now. How do I begin to explain what I've seen so far? The problem is that nothing seems important enough to tell, yet nothing is too meaningless to leave out. I wish I could've fit each of you in my backpack--I am proud to report that I am a much better packer than my European adventure days, although it does help that there's not an H&M tempting me from every corner.
I arrived in Lima, Peru on December 31, 2014. I have allotted a few months for this trip, but have no exact return date. My plan is to fill up as many weeks as I can with culture and all that comes with it, and so far I'm sticking to it perfectly. I'd be positively delighted if you'd join me. Ahorita!
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