some thoughts
This week's piece is different; consider it a journal entry. I haven't cleaned it up, but I think you'll enjoy it.
Bouncing on the helm of the boat with salty sea water soaking my coat, I knew I made the right choice again. It was freezing, my fingers were turning blue as I gripped the rail and tried to hold on. The magical blue ocean called my name, teasing me to jump in when we slowed down. I was laughing with delight; the way I used to when I got ice cream as a kid.
And yet, just 4 hours earlier, I thought I wouldn’t get here.
I did everything to not go. I hoped a family member would get sick and I’d have to stay behind. I tried to lose my passport; maybe someone would happen to steal it at exactly the right time. I begged my boyfriend to convince me to stay home. He could probably guilt me into doing a lot. It was a risky game to play.
I don’t know what happened. I was supposed to fly to Malta. It’s been on my list for a few years now, I wanted to see the blue sea and meet the kind people I had heard about. It was like every other place I’ve been to; somewhere new, somewhere to get to know.
But recently, I’ve been fighting between desires to see the world and to build a home. I’m not enamored by Brussels, but I probably wouldn’t be anywhere where I live. I love the new, the unknown, the “what I haven’t felt before”. Being out and about and uncomfortable is exactly how I want to feel most of my days. I know it, I feel it, and rarely can someone trick me into thinking otherwise.
Only I can. I can tell myself that I’m in a relationship, and I should stay near him. I can travel “one day” together, do what I want once he’s ready to go with me. What society rings loud too: build a home. Have a kid. Stay settled, grow my career while hanging out in the same 6 blocks around me.
Malta’s one trip, but there are many more like this one. They start to gather, and I start to tell myself these thoughts are true. If I don’t stay home more often my relationship will fizzle, or one day I’ll get lonely because I haven’t settled into a community. I mix my fears up with my intuition. Part of me screams go, part of me screams stay. The night before Malta, “stay” became so loud I almost gave in. I was so close, too close for me to be okay.
An hour before boarding the plane, I grabbed myself and whispered out loud the one rule I swear to live by. Never make a decision out of fear. The likelihood of it being a good one is probably low, and I don’t want to live a fearful life. I’ve spent too much time being afraid and usually, it’s just smoke that scares me. Nothing real.
As soon as I landed, I took an uber to the harbor. I met up with friends, and as the boat sped from the coast to the blue lagoon, I kept laughing to myself. I did what I dreamed of, again. And I let go of fear for the day.
some thoughts
Yehudis, even your journal entries are art 🥹
The stay-or-go part really got me. Really enjoyed it all.