I still don’t have an address, and #mylifeinabag is getting old real quick. Packing, unpacking, re-packing, squishing and squashing #aweekofmylife into one suitcase over and over and over again is a drain. What makes up for the way I’ve been living is that the location happens to be Hawaii this time, and it’s permanent…at least six months permanent, which in my world, is settled.
Moves can be stressful, and through this one, so far, I’ve only cried once, a very big accomplishment for yours truly. This moment of all emotions lost happened when a Craigslist room available ad that I responded to also included a relationship, and not a one plus one, but a threesome. No thank you. I Don’t roll that way, and besides, I can’t make a me + 1 happen, so I certainly don’t need any more additions or multiplication complications.
I’m not even close to being alone though, and what has kept me from complete emotional mess are my friends. My friends are UHHHHH-MAZING!!! No exaggeration. My friends, and even strangers, have been so good to me. So good. They are taking in the homeless (me), storing my luggage, and going out of their way just to help. I know I have true friends, and I’ve really needed them.
Before Hiking Koko Head
My “sister” and I shopping…she takes good care of me:)
Everyday has been one social event after another. Life in LA was much less eventful. This Hawaii Life is fun. So much fun! We’ve been playing tourist; hiking mountains, laying by the pool, watching sunsets, making new friends, and working on occasion. I keep trying to put the pieces together of how I ended up here, but nothing seems to really add up. I didn’t dream this life, but it’s a good dream.
I make plans and then life happens.
This time, the plan was, that when I arrived in Hawaii eight days ago, I would spend the five days before my first work trip, looking for a second job and finding a place to live. Instead, I fell for my couchsurfing accommodation, choosing to look no further for a home, and the sunshine in Hawaii is a drug, making me, or anyone, not want to do anything of responsibility. The sunshine taunts those not lounging and relaxing it. Who wants to be taunted? Not it. Not I.
I’ve moved to vacation heaven.
And, I can’t say that I am rested or at peace, which is how one is supposed to feel when in vacation heaven. I don’t move into my “home” until March 1st, and later, rather than sooner, I discovered two weeks of consistent and constant couch surfing, and sleeping on friends floors is essentially like pressing pause, freezing time: I just want these days to hurry-up!
I honestly, and this is a I-don’t-even-want-to-admit-this-honesty, underestimated how hard this vein of homelessness would be. I assumed that the trend of the last year; so many countries, so many new places, and experiences prepared me to be calm and poised while in transition. I’ve gotten myself through much more, right? I’ve spent time in Thailand alone, got stuck in Paris and followed by a creepy, Mr. Creepy, and managed the stress of the possibility of losing my job.
I have surprised myself at how ok I have been, and how part of me finds the gypsiness fascinatingly fun. Then there are those seconds when I want to sink into a cloud of pity me, because I am alone; no one walking me through the move, no boyfriend holding my hand, not much to lean on besides my annoyingly large suitcases. It’s the rational thoughts that follow that place my perspective in the right frame. It’s the thoughts and sense of knowing that Someone is with me where ever I go.
I am MORE than taken care of, and I am NOT alone!
I’ve seen this most in my friendships, and am experiencing the meaning of true friends; friends that are loyal and don’t disappear when life is a challenging. When I profusely thank Emily for letting me sleep on her floor and driving me here or there, she matter-of-factly says, “You’re just a friend in need.” She says it as if the action of picking up the slack is as natural as her taking a breath, that it’s what she must do to continue to live.
And then there are the strangers, turned friends. The soon to be roommate that let me crash at his condo while he took a five day vacation just because I needed a place to stay. He didn’t know me. Then there is Gladis who is not shy about sharing her bubbly smile with anyone, and just being around her makes me that much happier. Through this transition, it’s my friendships that have given me a sense of stability when a stable location is lacking.
My Uncle Steve, commented on Instagram “home is where the heart is.” Maybe that’s true, but I’m confused, because with my lifestyle, what does that even mean?
Where is my heart? Is it with a God or a Religion or a place or a person or an acceptance of myself? Is the constant moving an indication that my heart is not ok, or is this just who I am and part of what makes me, me? And the more time that passes, I sense a callous of my soul. I hold my emotions closer, and search out the potential disappearances, because, with the chaos, I cannot allow myself to become attached. I want to protect myself from the fragility of temporary because Hawaii may only be six months, and you or me may leave sooner than either of us wants to believe.
I have been asked if I want to be settled, and I do, or at least I think so, but I can’t force my life to be what it’s not. If I fight it, it will make me crazy.
All I really wanted for 27 was calm above the chaos, but it’s not that at all…
Maybe just give it time…
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