A big trend in social media right now is posting a photo of yourself from ten years ago, and one from now to see how well you’ve aged.
Maybe even to brag a little about how good you still look. I know I am.
When I was 24, I had just moved to Los Angeles. I was unemployed and living with my boyfriend in Huntington Beach and our roommate Davin. Who we later had a stupid falling out with. But at the time, someone I loved as dearly as a brother.
I had no car. So I walked everyday to a yoga studio. It was the only fitness joint in the area. Not having any idea what I was getting myself into. My mind was as confused as my body as I twisted myself into strange positions along to weird hippie dippy instructional what nots. But I kept going back. Today, it is the one thing I credit to saving my tortured soul.
Without it. Nothing else would have been possible.
That girl at the time, and yes…she was a girl. Lived to party. And was drunk with all that California had to offer. She wanted to be a writer. But felt crippling anxiety anytime she had to do an interview. Something that would lead her to a staff position where she could interact with stories brought in on the wire instead of from real people. Where she would crank out a certain number of words in a voice not her own, before calling it a day that melted effortlessly into night.
Happy hours and the most delicious food ever, all the time. So much music. During which conversations inevitably turned to our hopes and dreams. Queue dance party. Late night food. More drinks. Until the sky began to lighten. Portia passed out on the smallest, most uncomfortable looking edge of the couch. Jess wrapped up mummy style in something bright or animal print.
It was there that I found myself.
Ten years later. I’m here. Or at least, here for now. I quit my job. Moved to South America. And I’m writing for myself for the first time in forever. To the smell of fresh grass and the sound of birds.
I decide what I want to do from the second I wake up in the morning, until the second I go to sleep. Which was so important to me finding life worthwhile. Free to be myself. However I want to be.
I am seeing the world. So differently than I had ever imagined. So intimately. So real. Challenging myself every day to be a better person than I was the day before. More tolerant. Kind. Patient. Open.
As for the next decade. Now that my head is feeling a whole lot more screwed on. And I’m happy. Actually happy. I want to help others. Of course, have more kids. Continue to experience different cultures. Learn. Find beauty. Make friends. And live as much as my life in love. It’s the only thing that really matters.
And a boat. A boat would be nice.