There is something stirring around. It’s a feeling that wants to be felt. Or maybe a memory that wants to be recalled. Most likely an emotion that wants to be validated. Whatever it is, it’s there and it’s not going away.
And unlucky for me, Meighan has been on vacation for the past two weeks, so I have to figure this one out on my own. I am strong enough to figure this one out on my own.
For a hot second I thought it was another wave of depression. I woke up in a funk. It wasn’t sad. Thankfully I didn’t wake up crying this time. Instead it was just a heavy hopelessness. I stared at the ceiling for a long time and thought “maybe it’s just time to give up.” Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel. Admit that Hawaii has become too much for me. Pack up my bags. And run back home where I can hide from adulthood.
Then I checked Flo, and it said I was getting my period in a day so that solved that mystery.
It wasn’t mental instability; it was just my monthly hormonal imbalance.
Still, something inside me wasn’t sitting well.
On top of that, I drove home from Kaneohe at night three days in a row and didn’t cry once. Ok maybe I cried a little bit, but that was only when I got back into town. Not the typical ball of hysterics as I’m driving up the Pali. Not the can’t-catch-my-breath crying that has overtaken me every single time I drive at night throughout the past year and a half. Not the panic of being alone that replaced getting to talk to Mikey on the phone. Nope, there was none of that all weekend long.
So I’ve been reflecting on that growth and journey of healing. I’m keeping in mind I’m a flurry of hormones. And it finally hits me.
At the end of each Bar Method class, we do a final stretch. We take sit up straight with our legs crossed. We take a deep breath in and lift our hands up. We take a deep breath out and we float our hands down. Then we thank our bodies. And for 232 classes, I have thanked my body for being so strong. For doing the push-ups. For getting through class. For being so capable of things I didn’t think it could do- like that active fold over set. But this time I realized I am thankful for so much more.
And I’m not just thankful, I’m proud of me.
I’m proud of how strong I’ve become and the way my body looks and the weight I’ve lost. There are so many physical traits that point to exactly how my body has grown over the past year. But there are a million more unseen things that I can’t believe I have accomplished.
I’m proud of the community I’ve built. The people I’ve turned to when I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. The friends I’ve cried to when life kept pulling the rug from under me. The ones that I stopped keeping secrets from. There are so many people in my life that have picked me back up again and continue to walk with me. Even when I make mistakes. Even when I do the thing and talk to the person they tell me to stop talking to. They still love me, and they continue to love me more than I can ever accept.
I’m proud of the work I’ve done. I did not try to put a Band-Aid over a broken bone. I watched as things broke and shattered in front of my eyes. I felt the immense depths of that brokenness. And I swallowed every painstaking second it took to heal again. I cried. I went to therapy. I cried. I called my best friends. I cried. I wrote. I cried. I prayed. I cried some more. But never did I push the feelings aside. Never did I try to cover it up with another distraction. I walked through a living hell, but somehow I just kept going until I wasn’t there anymore.
And so I didn’t cry on my recent drives home, because I think I’m finally proud of where I am. And where I am does not need someone to be on the phone with me to make sure I get home safe.
This girl that looks in the mirror is so thankful and proud. She’s thankful for a home that is all her own. A home that isn’t plagued with the idea of someone else, but instead this beautiful place with air conditioning and nice new fixtures. She’s thankful for her tan skin because that means she’s been at the beach. Twice every week all month long. Various tan lines and lots of sandy beach towels. But also, proud. Proud of herself for being brave. For finally kissing someone that isn’t Mikey. (I hope my dad doesn’t read this) For putting herself out there and having a summer fling ripped right out of a movie. What a fun, silly time.
But more than anything, proud that she’s not wishing to go back in time anymore. Not hoping things would go back to the way they were and not crossing her fingers that Mikey would finally choose her. He never will, and he will never be the person she knows he’s capable of being.
Instead, right now, I’m wishing the best for him. I wish the absolute best for you. That you’ll date this girl. That you’ll love her. That maybe one day you’ll marry her. That you’ll become a pilot or a real estate agent not a police officer but maybe one day you’ll own a shave ice store. That you’ll buy a house and fill it with books and have a secret hidden library. I wish you the happiest life possible!
Even if I’m not part of that life. Even if I’m never part of your life again. Because I’m proud of where I’m at, and I hope one day you will be too.