So there I was, my fingers hovering over the cursor, the arrow pointed on the buy now symbol for a one way ticket to Nicaragua. In the past five days I had already purchased and canceled this exact ticket four times due to a combination of extreme heart palpitations and instant buyers remorse, as ultimately I felt like I was letting go of everything that I loved, everything that I called home, and everything that I identified with in the past two years.
Everyday we are faced with countless decisions, some harder than others, some more obvious than others, but the fact of the matter is, one way or another we have to choose. Lately for me, decisions seem to be daunting my daily existence. And what's worse is, just when I think I have made the hardest decision of my life, another one seems to follow. And I'm not talking the should I put sugar in my coffee kind, I'm talking the life altering kind. The kind where you look back and say, that decision changed my life. I am calling this my "mid-life catastrophe." Not quite a crisis yet, because luckily my options all seem to be cushioned with love, support, and awesomeness. But if this shit keeps up, I will most certainly be calling it a crisis!
On February 16th, I got evicted from a house I had only lived in for four and a half months because my dog attacked and nearly killed my roommate's goat.
On February 18th, he nearly killed her duck.
On February 24th, I came home from to school to a house my friend was gracious enough to let us both stay at until we found a new place, and my dog had scratched out two screens.
On February 26th, I moved into a shack down by the river, that I loved, but would later come to find out that I am not allowed house guests. This time not to due the fault of my dog, but rather to the fact that North Shore land lords generally blow.
On March 4th, I purchased a one way ticket to Nicaragua.
On March 5th, I canceled it.
On March 6th, I purchased it and canceled it.
On March 7th, I purchased it.
On March 8th, by what I believe to be divine intervention, I met an 11-year-old boy named Bucky James after surfing. Bucky lives in a shack mauka side of Sunset Beach along with 24 other kids and double that in total family members. The moment I looked into Bucky eyes I knew my prayers had been answered and perhaps Bucky's had been too. It was hard to face the fact that in this moment in time I ultimately knew my dog would be better off with Bucky and his family than with indecisive me. At least this is what I have to keep telling myself to sleep at night.
On March 10th, after one last rendezvous on the beach, I loaded Mister Eko into the back seat of my car one last time and we headed towards Bucky's place. I rolled down Eko's window and watched him smile as the wind blew his ears in the wind, the entire time repeating the mantra trust the process. As I handed Bucky James Eko's leash I could not bear to look back. I could hear his moan as he most certainly wondered why I was leaving without him. I cried the whole way "home."
On March 12th, I drove my boyfriend of nearly two years to the airport as he was due to be the best man in his brother's shot gun wedding. This was hands down, the single most hardest good-bye of my entire life. I mean don't get me wrong, Eko's was heart wrenching to say the least, but the combination of these two back to back nearly killed me. What made matters even worse was knowing that I believed I was much more aware of what this good-bye meant for the two of us. As I held and kissed him one last time good-bye, I was actually scared to lose sight of him as he turned and walked through those doors, for I knew I had just let go of yet another leash, so to speak. I knew I no longer had control of when or if I would see him again. I cried the whole way "home."
I should add that I gave this man my phone number a mere twenty minutes before finding Mister Eko tied to a picnic bench in need a home. Now, coincidentally, within a two days, neither of them no longer belonged to me.
I have been putting the word "home" in quotation marks because I didn't even know where or what that was anymore. I had just moved again and this time hadn't even bothered to buy a dish rack, let alone hang a picture on the wall. Sure, there was a front door, walls, and a bathroom, but it didn't feel like home. Especially when I returned home from the airport and the only thing in the whole world I wanted to do was hold my dog and see his tail wag at the sheer fact that I was home. Not seeing his wag when I returned from the airport made me cry, harder. This time on the door step where he used to lay and wait for me. My dog's love was unconditional. My boyfriend's conditional. And all I knew was I felt held captive. I knew it wasn't them holding me prisoner, it was me. Either way, it didn't matter, I knew nobody was to blame, but what I did know is that I was exhausted by all of it, and ready to be free.
On March 18th, my niece turned 2 years old and my Grandma turned 95 years young. I tossed and turned somewhere between dead, alive, alone, depressed, and sick of feeling sorry for myself. I decided it was my birth day too and started packing my bags.
On March 19th, I left my home on Oahu and set forth to Nicaragua on a one way journey into the unknown. All I really knew was that I would be with my sister, brother-in-law, and niece and that thought alone made me happy.
On March 22nd, my Mom and Dad arrived. It hadn't been since Liv's birth two years ago that our family was all together. I was home.
On April 6th, I semi-spontaneously applied for the TV show "Survivor" after meeting some guys who worked for the show at a local bar, and remembering I had a name to drop that might increase my chances of getting hired.
On April 7th, I got the job. Turns out it was a good name to drop ;) Gracias. I think?
On April 8th, I wanted the job.
On April 9th, I didn't want the job.
On April 10th, I officially accepted the job and my fate. I am a selfish bastard. I do what I want, when I want... bitches!!!
On April 16th, I sent them a head to toe photograph of myself, well fine, head to cankle, but for Pete's sake, can you blame me?
On April 17th, they responded by saying, "you have great hair! I just want to reiterate there is a good chance your hair will be cut and/or dyed for second unit filming," leading me to believe that my brother in law was right all along. There is a reason they call it the "Dream Team," because it's a total nightmare!"
On April 18th, I didn't want the job.
Today is April 19.
I have been here exactly one month and am due to start this job in exactly one month from today. Although I still find myself wondering what if this or what if that, I have no regrets. I can't. It's a waste of time and energy. What I do know is I am here...now. I have concluded that it is in questioning the decisions we make where the confusion and struggle lies, and that is when we end up lost, again. I am learning to make decisions based on the every so delicate balance of head and heart. I am learning to trust the process. I am learning to always follow the clues and to believe that onward is upward. Otherwise, I'll end up right back on that doorstep, crying, alone, and trust me, it's horribly depressing. Once we find this balance we can more clearly hear our intuition and more openly speak our truth. And here we can all "satisfy our souls."
Decisions, decisions, decisions. One way or another there gonna get cha, there gonna getcha, getcha, getcha, getcha, one way...
head to pete shot
