Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Last Ride In...
I took that last ride in a few days before getting in the car and heading north to Washington State. It was a beautiful SoCal afternoon, my family was in town for the holidays and I felt like I had all the time in the world. When I got out of the water, I didn't want to go home, so I sat on my board and looked at the water for one last time. And cried and cried.
I cried because I knew I'd miss the ocean. But I also cried because I realized why the ocean had meant so much to me during these last few years in LA. I hated my fucking life.
I loved my husband. I loved my kids. I loved my friends. I loved the weather, the mountains, the yoga, the produce, the open-minded people and the sky at sunset. And still, I hated the grind: the sense of barely keeping my head above water financially and the effort it took just to get by. I hated the speed, the constant busy-ness and, as another emigrating friend recently put it, "the constant reminders of the life I could have had if I hadn't made so many mistakes."
As I sat there on the beach, I felt like I'd been ground down and sanded like a block of wood. In my despair, I grew concerned I'd lost something along the way: the belief that life could be other than a constant struggle to heroically rise above my circumstances.
I write these words from University Place, Washington, a small town east of Tacoma. This will be the last entry of "Surf, Pray, Love" and we will end on a cliff hanger...
What will happen? Will I make the shift I hope to make - from my stressed out, urban lifestyle to one that is connected to the outdoors, spiritually nurturing and grounded in community? Will Brian get a more challenging, better-paying job and enjoy the crafts-centered life he seeks? Will Trinity's health improve and will she chill the fuck out? And will Ashton emerge unscathed - and even stronger and happier - from the transition?
Tune in to my upcoming, as of yet untitled blog, for these answers and more.