It’s gloomy in Newark that morning but honestly, I always think of grey gloominess when I think of the town I’m only in when I’m flying away from it.
This morning brings about the second time I’m flying to Hawaii. I broke the ice by spending 3 weeks in NJ with friends, family, my new niece and a better understanding of myself which isn’t something I was expecting to pack into my carry-on this time around.
I cried when I said goodbye to my family all the while knowing that these are the consequences and feelings I must deal with being the ‘exiled’ one but I can only do the things I’m driven to do even if that means being so far away from all the comforts I’ve come to known over the past 28 years.
I cried once again while Marie was away from the car getting me my last dunkin donuts coffee for at least a few months. But something strange happened. Those tears were much different. They were tears of fear.
Lately when I feel fear this outer perception kicks in automatically inviting me to observe myself outside of the situation. I quickly realized I was robotically crying tears of fear + scaredness when in actuality I wasn’t really scared at all.
In fact, I was more scared of the chance of missing my connecting flight in Atlanta than I was to come back to Hawaii where I must rebuild my life again by finding/creating a part-time job, obtaining a new vehicle and oh, launching t-shirt line.
This time around my blank slate has a foundation, it has ground to stand on that I created by throwing myself to the wolves of life and coming back scarred but stronger than ever.
It sounds crazy, but I can’t help but be proud of myself for being in a situation where I have to start over. I’m realizing that in life things go away (cars, jobs, relationships, love, et ceterea) in order to give you the chance to do things the way you TRULY want if you have the guts.
As I write this I am finally on the long plane ride back to Hawaii. The air is stale and I am surrounded by couples, young and old embarking on a journey to a place where they plan to relax, enjoy beautiful scenery and create experience for a WHOLE week, maybe two tops.
Then there is me alone on the end seat, cramped, sore, with a glass of cheap wine in my stomach and uncomfortable, ready to create the experience yet again for her WHOLE life.