It's been a long time since I really gave myself some time to think ... probably because I knew I wouldn't like what I'd find. Now is probably as good a time as any, stuck on a plane ... alone ... for a trip I don't want to be going on. (Thank God for the empty row of seats next to me ... crying in public places is so much easier when you don't have to share an arm rest with a stranger).
I'm not happy.
I am worried. Quite persistently ...
I feel as though I have driven my professional life in entirely the wrong direction (not to mention into the ground) and I am worried that I cannot fix it. Not because I lack the skills to do so, but because I was so sure that this was the right direction when I chose this particular path and even still I was so flatly wrong. I am without a map or any whim to follow. At this point, I'm not sure I even have career aspirations (which brings up a whole different level of guilt and self-loathing).
I'm young ... starting over would be easy. But how do you start over when the only part of planning a new path you can manage is the part where you abandon the last one? I've always believed that you should jump to, not from ... so when will I be ready to jump? And in this job market, what are the chances of that window opening?
My personal life is just as bad. I am so overwhelmed by stress that I am missing the greatest joys. I am so deeply worried that I will regret the way we choose to get married that I am losing the joy of being engaged.
I know, deep down I know ... there are few things in life that are genuinely un-fix-able so there is no point in worrying. But I worry.
I want nothing more than to be a beautiful bride ... to have a suburbanite home with the garage, maybe some stone or brick ... to love my kitchen more than any other room in the house and find my peace in sharing food with others. But is all feels so imaginary and un-me.
I find myself so moved toward indecision, motivated by fear and apathy, that I am dead in the water.
I worry that the wind I need to fill my sails will never come and the next chapter of my life will begin the same way that this one has dragged on.
It was cramped and dim - a gray cube lit only by a few florescent bulbs. There was barely enough room to turn around with the acrid smell of chemical disinfectant floating through the air. An overwhelming uneasiness consumed the small environment as the floor felt like it would never stop moving.
I knelt and prayed as best as I could.
As Maui disappeared from view, I hoped for nothing more than to not throw up in the first class lavatory. I came back to my seat so overwelmed by the flu-like feeling that I hid my face and cried.
I spent the rest of the flight clutching an airsick bag - thankfully not needing to put it to use - and fitfully trying to sleep.
It was not a great way to end 9 days in paradise, and just a hint at how the return trip would go. But I am home now, and no longer in paradise where I spent my time taking pictures of sea turtles instead of blogging.
I am sad to leave Hawaii behind but I am glad to be home.