The Perfect Life
My life used to be amazing. I used to live in Hawaii. I was going to college and LOVED my classes. I enjoyed doing my homework, especially when I could do it at the beach, taking in the beauty that was my life. Sunshine, the ocean, stunning hikes, great friends and life moving forward.
What’s not to love, right? Life was perfect. In the four years I have been back on the mainland, I often think back and wish I had never left. I want my life to be that amazing again.
The funny thing is, when I think back on the hardest moments of my life, they all took place in Hawaii. Like the time I was homeless. Like the time I went 3 months without a paycheck and couldn’t buy food. Then there was the entire summer where I lived through hell and the massive depression that made me want to throw myself into the ocean at the mercy of the sea. I broke off an engagement. I was overwhelmed, beaten down emotionally, stretched thin, kicked out of a major, fired, lost relationships. Yet I still call it the best time of my life.
Isn’t it interesting? My perfect life was peppered with trials and the hardest moments of my short 30 years. It was during these worst times that I saw such uplifting and positive goodness in the life around me. No food? No problem, there were sufficient potlucks and dinner invitations that I was never starving. Homeless? Sure, it wasn’t the always the funnest, but I would get the occasional night on a couch, and at least it was not during the rainy season. And again, food shared with me, so I never starved.
None of these disasters happened at the same time. There was always something to help life me and keep me moving. My summer of hell? I still had a roof over my head. It was hard to notice at the time though. I had lost everything, down to the very core of who I was. Everything had been stripped away.
That fall, something changed. I still remember it so well. Being given exactly what I needed (from a Japanese anime of all places) to move forward. Nothing could touch me. I was so deliriously happy. Even when a very dear friend passed away unexpectedly, I was ok. I still miss her, but I just couldn’t get over all the good things going on.
After everything had been stripped away, everything I had fought so hard to do and to be and even to have, a whole new person emerged. Better. Stronger. Happier. After every rough patch, things kept improving. I kept improving.
Hawaii changed me, and I love who I became.
I think now that I am back on the mainland, I forget just how strong I can be. I forget the phoenix that rose from ashes time and time again. Here, life is easier in many ways, so minor inconveniences make me cranky and irritable.
I forget how good people can be. How much they have given, and so I forget to give. I forget how beautiful it is here in Utah. It is mostly state parks for a reason. I forget to go out and enjoy it, because there is so much to do and to accomplish. I find I am spinning my wheels.
Life is hard, but it’s a different kind of hard. I think I prefer Hawaii hard. In Hawaii, I was young and vulnerable; but it gave me strength. Life requires balance and the dichotomy can bring such joy if I am open to it.
The hard stuff is what brings the good stuff.
If I want to create the perfect life in Utah (four years and I still haven’t come close), I need the vulnerability to grow. I need hard times, and I need the passion that has carried me through life to lead me to the good things. It’s a scary thing to ask. Who asks for trouble? The happy ones, apparently.
It’s risky to boot. It would be slightly more terrifying to be homeless in Utah than it would be in Hawaii. But the struggle for security leads to complacency. I find I am not a fan of it. I feel listless and adrift. It’s time to adjust my sails.
