Dreary. Dark. Heavy. Cloudy. Rainy. Stillness. Butterflies.
After a week and a half in Hilo, life has started to calm down a bit. I'm settled in to my apartment, my car is rented, and I survived my first week of work. That, and a much needed reunion with my good friend, Carrie. It was SO good to see a familiar face.
Other than a delayed move-in, a car rental scheduled for the wrong pick up date, and an unexpected visitor (a gecko hiding behind my pillow...pretty sure I screamed loud enough to wake up the entire building! No worries, I chased it with a spatula behind a piece of furniture, hoping and praying I wouldn't wake up to it plastered to my face. Needless to say, I spent most of the night peering out from under the covers, looking, waiting, letting my imagination get the best of me. Picture Lisa Simpson, blanket to face, with eyes darting back and forth. Yeah, that was me. Bug eyed and scared to death. Needless to say, I did not sleep a wink that first night.)...and I have not seen my gecko friend since. From now on, I will refer to him as George.
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| George the Gecko. |
The rain had stopped, the sun was shining, work had cancelled me for the day, and this girl was ready to go exploring. Garmin or not, I was going to go road tripping to the 'other' side of the island...aka the "sunny side", the "beachy side, the more happening side, more commonly known as Kona.
Pleasant. Bright. Openness. Sunny. Clear. Stillness. Rainbows. Butterflies.
I had no idea what to expect other than my postcard version of white sandy beaches and clear blue water. This is where someone like me is longing for the "Type A" planner friend. Lord knows, I need these type of friends. Little did I know, the road to Kona would go from city-like, to farm-like, to volcanic-like, to desert-like, to jungle-like. Had I been on the mainland, I would've thought for sure I had driven through North Dakota, Arizona, Iowa, Oregon, and California. Good thing I remembered I am on an island, otherwise I am sure I would have been stumped beyond explanation.
With my perma-grin in place, island music blaring on the radio, fresh Kona coffee in hand, and the sun beating down on my forearms, I was like a 2 year old in a candy store throwing a temper tantrum. I could hardly wait to get my beach mat out, get my tan on, frolic in the water, and hang with the locals.
After a clumsy walk back to my car, backtracking 20 miles (aka 40 min), at a second attempt to find the beach...my optimism was beginning to dwindle. WTF??? I can't even find the beach and I live on an island??? I AM a retard. Already feeling stripped. Naked. My emotions were starting to get to me. Good thing I am stubborn. Otherwise, I am pretty sure I would've quit and drove home.
I hopped back in my car only to backtrack 20 miles and FINALLY found what I was so desperately looking for. I instantly felt refreshed, rejuvenated, relaxed. Peace.
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| The Calm before the Storm... |
Just as I was beginning to nod off, in my peaceful bliss, sunshine on back, pandora playing gently in my ear, I was abruptly woken up by pain. Pelting pain. A wind storm. A sand storm. A whirl wind of sorts. My flip flops had surrendered to the winds and were flying across the beach, my beach mat airborne, my backpack hanging on for dear life. And I found myself to be one frazzled, sand covered mess. After a free 'gong show' for all those present, I was able to retrieve all my belongings, but my emotions were an entire different story.
Suddenly I felt Alone. Detached. Isolated. Sad. Much like the sand being swept out in to the ocean.
Defenseless. Unarmed. Exposed. Naked.
With hair standing on end, my sunglasses cocked to the side, sand in my eyes, my hair, my teeth, my fingernails, my entire body painted in a fine layer of the coast, I looked in the rear view mirror at my disheveled self. Silence. Trying to hold back...
I felt my lip begin to quiver, my eyes filling up with tears...trying hard not to blink.
Staring. Listening. Feeling.
The sand. The wind. The clouds desperately trying to hold back the rain.
As my car continued to sway side to side in the viscous winds, the clouds surrendered to the rain as I surrendered to my tears. I began to cry. Uncontrollably. The harder it rained, the harder I cried. Tears of frustration. Tears of defeat. Tears of longing for a friend. Longing for Someone to hold me. Hug me. Talk some sense in to me.
In the middle of my mental breakdown, I glanced in the mirror, and saw my reflection. And suddenly my tears turned to laughter. I began to laugh. Uncontrollably. (Envision a mascara streaked, sand covered, bent sunglasses vacationer.) And in that instant, the rain stopped, the sky cleared, and I saw a rainbow appear out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly life was peaceful again. I felt cleansed. Renewed. Rejuvenated.
Sometimes we all just good tropical storm to pass through our lives. To experience a good cry. A good laugh. To regroup. To rejuvenate. To truly feel and live our emotions. After all, if your not living through them, you're not living life to the fullest. And a confession from the writer...I hadn't cried in a very long time. It was long overdue. Much needed. It felt good. To let go. Set free.
I spent the rest of the weekend in Kona, browsing shops, eating ice cream, drinking coffee, people watching, and reflecting. I know now more than ever, I am ready to start the next chapter in my life.
On my return to Hilo, I was invited to Kim's karaoke for a night of entertainment. Funny how life has a way of steering you to something when you need it most. After all, karaoke and bingo pretty much sums up my hometown.
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| Stephanie, Caitlyn, Kim |
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| The perfect song for my melt down :) |
I learned a great lesson from this. The grass (or in this case, the sand) isn't always greener (or whiter) on the other side. Life is still life. It gets hard. Downright tough sometimes. That's where life makes you realize what's truly important. Family. Friends. Memories.
The storm has passed for now. I am sure there will be many more. I learned I need them. We all need them. Much like the sun needs the sky, the flowers need the rain, and the Hawaiian's need their surfboards.
