Dear Diary: I Am Home

MAY 7, 2022

Well, we missed our flight home, rebooked, delayed hours and arrived back in ATX 1A on Thursday. Long day but I felt incredibly alive yesterday, not deleted completely. I had energy, ran around lady bird lake, and spent the day with my girlfriends, reconnecting. I posted a photo of me “fully embracing bikini season,” and lost many followers. I was celebrating me, void of insecurity that is way deeper than skin deep. Self love is a journey. I’m arriving to the part where I embrace all of me. So, rewind, to our homecoming — which left me realizing that home really isn’t a place, its a feeling. If I have me, I am home. 

So, after a whirlwind Mexico trip, (more here + here), meant to be  4 nights, but became five or almost six rather … My boyfriend and I went from Mexico City to San Miguel de Allende and then decided to stay a day. Truth is, I had reason to get back home but time flew by and because we were present, reconnecting, on our last day, he was a bit frustrated he hadn’t tended to a work deadline approaching. My inner child got angry momentarily, and my anger toward the patriarchy had me resenting that his work, a “man’s” work take priority, but the growth in me realized that relationships take compromising. But I found a moment of calm, because it isn’t fair that I sporadically resent him for how women are treated holistically because he’s the man I’m spending time with. So I moved a few things and we stayed another day in paradise, relaxing. His calm was worth more than a few of my work engagements. My energy grounded, we enjoyed another day, leaving later that eve to drive back to Mexico City. The drive took a while but we arrived safely, only after being pulled over one or two times, because Mexican police love scoring extra cash from Gringo tourists, apparently. This time, he was the grounded one, as anxiety took over me, being pulled over repeatedly in a foreign country feels frightening. But my guy previously lived in Kenya, both building a company and a skillset that isn’t shaken in third world countries, unlike my Miami Beach upbringing. We arrived late to room service, showered and slept in bathrobes cuddling. I awoke to meditate and exercise before lunch and leaving. I never impose my daily rituals, but invite him to join me to soothe and release before moving. Our flight wasn’t until 4p, leaving us “lots of time,” to slurp life juice again, oysters, cracked coconuts and shrimp heads. But our laissez fair attitude was roadblocked by our learning that evening in Mexico takes a while, the traffic, rental car return and the unexpected need for a negative covid test at the airport. Aeromexico wouldn’t give us our boarding passes and we missed our flight. He was frustrated and so was I, but I grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “We have each other, credit cards, and all we have is time. We’re ok.” I sat on the floor and shopped our limited options, United through Houston was leaving in two hours and he had lots of miles. We booked quickly and proceeded through security and not once did my energy get irate. I knew I was safe. Even through the most aggressive turbulence I’ve ever experienced. My last flight home from my Arizona solo getaway, the plane got bumpy, I was jumpy and accidentally grabbed the stranger’s arm next to me. This time it as just my boyfriend thankfully. We landed in Houston with an hour+ delay, but tornado warnings and lightening got in our way. We had to gather our bags and bring them through security, and I was selected “randomly.” TMI but underwear is not my thing, and yet I always get selected for a “full female assisting,” They patted all parts of me down excessively, and instead of worrying, I kept breathing, silently repeating, “You’re ok.” And it was funny to watch my boyfriends suitcase get searched, because he was holding my ankle weights. Our 8:55P departure was delayed until 11pm, but I felt safer being in the USA and the United lounge had hot chocolate and sugar free orange Powerade. Comfy, even while watching the lightening strike aggressively, and until the United lounge closed and made us leave. But still, I was calm, briefly falling asleep, hopeful that we would get home eventually. We were finally greenly for boarding but at this point, my lack of sleep morphed into lots of giggling. A quick 30 minute flight and we landed safely, left the car at the airport for ease, except forgot where we parked because we left in haste. But still, I kept cool, because no matter what, I was safe. We got home around 1A, and awoke acknowledging that among all the chaos en route home, not once did I lose my cool, I was in full surrender. I didn’t even desire a beer to “take the edge off,” or reach for anything out of integrity to soothe me, besides for the obvious, a lollipop – my inner child’s favorite thing. 

Yesterday morning, after little sleep, I found myself at yoga class for the first time in over week. Yoga has long been a daily practice for me for well over two decades. And as I crawled on my mat I felt incredible grounding. But this time it was different, realizing, even though I didn’t practice, I brought the yoga with me, inner peace as a feeling. Yoga, to yolk, is less the practice and more so connection to self, home as a constant feeling. Everything I needed was inside regardless of all the unavoidable happenings: missed flight, delays, full frontal searching, tornado turbulence, but I didn’t let anything turbulent to effect me. And post vacation, I always feel like I have to come home to me, recharge, reset, fall back into routine — but I mostly honored my routine while away, meditated, journaled and sweat daily, so homecoming wasn’t a transition because I brought home with me. Surrendering, evidence of my growth and trust in me, granted I was with someone I’m learning to trust, but this journey is only my own. If I have me, I am home – Again realizing that in my bikiniyesterday, and with my sisterhood, I celebrated the vessel that carries me, with less insecurity, which I’ve shared, self love, cue my PTSD,has been a journey, and bikinis have never been my thing because a one piece feels safer, but that was just a story I was carrying. In my bikini, my inner yoga was reflected externally, because, home isn’t a place, or a body, home is feeling. So I leave you with something to ponder into the weekend, regardless of where you are, are you home? 

Happy Saturday. (Everything you need is inside, wink.)

XX Love always, Olivia.