Day 7

Plan B

I found a cheap rental cabaña in front of a beautiful, mellow longboard spot, well-suited to my skill level. I paid for two weeks up front, informing the landlord that I intended to stay for a minimum of one month. At least, that’s what I thought I told him, in Spanish. I was concerned about how I would afford $20 per night, plus food, since I hadn’t planned to spend any money during the duration of my previous work trade arrangement.

After two days, I found an open air palapa with a concrete floor perfect for doing yoga. I tracked down the owner and, a bottle of whisky in hand, I used my best formal Spanish to request permission to hold classes in his palapa. I spread the word to the the surfers that I would be teaching classes everyday at noon. For the next two weeks, I constantly had six to eight yoga students, who donated enough to pay for my food, rent and gasoline for the day. After another week, a friend from Facebook contacted me. She was a yoga instructor and massage therapist at a high end yoga retreat in a nearby resort town. She was about to go on vacation and wanted to know if I might sub for her for a couple of weeks, while she was away.

I had been scared to move out of the house with Kurt, because I might run out of money. I had been scared to leave my yoga studio, because I might run out of money. I had been scared to leave my original work trade agreement at the retirement resort, because I might run out of money. Taking each step away from what didn’t serve me required me to completely give up control. It took blind faith in the idea that acting in my best interests could only lead to something better. And now, here I was, one week in a new country and already at a better-paying job than the one I’d left, back in California.

But it didn’t take long before I knew I had to move on. I was on an adventure. Drama has always been my drug, and life was getting too easy. I grew bored of perfect little longboard waves, craving something more exciting. I was spending most of each day at the yoga retreat, working.  I knew I hadn’t come to Mexico to work. I had come to surf. I arrived home from work one night to the landlady, who explained to me that she had rented my place to someone else who was willing to pay more. I would either need to outbid him or move along.

I was terrified to drive alone through Mexico, terrified to be without a paycheck, terrified to surf more challenging waves. But I knew my heart wanted to keep moving, and I knew enough to trust my desires. They hadn’t steered me wrong yet.

Plan A was to stay at the retirement resort. I revised that plan when I saw how unhappy it would make me, even though abandoning its certainty was scary. Plan B, staying at the mellow longboard spot and earning some money by teaching yoga, was also falling through. Plan C was no plan at all, perhaps just to continue driving, seeing what might turn up. But the idea of driving alone in Mexico, without a destination, seemed incredibly irresponsible.

Kesha

On my last night staying in little surf village, I put my headphones on and went for a walk under the stars. In the morning, I would need to figure out my next move. I walked near the shoreline, where the waves met the beach, and let cool water splash on my legs, contrasting the warmth of the night. Nearly full, the moon was perfectly clear, with a million trillion stars lighting up the sky.

I had done it. I had escaped from hell. But, even as I bathed in the moonlight, in the most heavenly setting imaginable, my heart ached for the loss of my marriage. Kesha filled my headphones, her every word seeming to issue from my heart into Kurt’s.

Well you almost had me fooled,

told me that I was nothing without you.

But after everything you’ve done,

I can thank you for how strong I have become.

Cuz you brought the flames and you put me through hell.

I had to learn how to fight for myself,

and we both know all the truth I could tell.

I’ll just say this, is I wish you farewell

Water caressed on my legs. Moonlight touched my sunburnt skin. Whitewater formed perfect, surfable lines.

I hope your soul is changing,

I hope you find your peace,

falling on your knees praying.

Someday maybe you will see the light.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I began to run.

I’m proud of who I am.

No more monsters, I can breathe again.

And you said that I was done.

Well you were wrong and now the best is yet to come.

Cuz I can make it on my own.

I ran harder, faster, and started screaming the lyrics. The farther I ran, the faster my strides. My heart beat into the red zone, but I didn’t care. Sprinting and screaming, racing alone down the empty beach, my chest threatened to explode.  My toe caught and I pitched forward, belly-flopping onto the soft, wet sand. I sat, heaving and sobbing, as a wave surged in and soaked me up to my chest. Still, Kesha’s words rang out as if straight from my own heart.

I found a strength I’ve never known

When I’m finished they wont even know your name.

Sopping wet, I picked myself up and found a palm tree a few feet from the breaking waves. Leaning against the palm, I opened a new note in my phone and began to write:

The Letter

Dear Kurt,

I hope one day we will have the kind of relationship where I can give you this letter. But if that never happens, I will be okay. I loved you so hard, and I lost so hard. I am already okay, I am more than okay. I am amazing. I wanted to thank you. I didn’t know life could get this good. Today I surfed 5 hours in the most beautiful palm tree paradise you can imagine. You’d love it here. Nose rides for days. I am happy, no really, I am. And I owe this to you.

You captivated me. I would have done anything to save you. You had every little piece of me. And now I have have our memories. You made me who I am. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the things you gave me. My Darling, you gave me new life. You taught me to be alive. You made me know. 

Our relationship is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to let go. And now I see that being forced to end it served me so well.

Thank you for taking me surfing when I was first learning, for taking me to your shaper and helping me get a custom board. Thank you for teaching me how to buy a proper fitting wetsuit and how to wax a board and how to install fins and how to tie the board to the roof of my car. Thank you for showing me the surf spots around our home and quizzing me on their names. Thanks for introducing me to surf culture and the surfing forefathers and surf history and surfboard evolution. Thanks for making me read articles in Surfer’s Journal that you knew were important. Thanks for making me watch surf movies to help with my style. Thanks for taking me to Mexico for my first time and getting me to the proper waves so I could learn to go directional. Thanks for showing me how to travel in Mexico, how to get around and teaching me not to be afraid. Thanks for never, ever criticizing. Thanks for being patient with me when I cried on clean-up set waves. Thanks for not over-coaching me, but giving me room to learn at my own pace.

You taught me to depend on a man to pay my bills. I learned to take time for myself and that you wouldn’t care, that a relationship didn’t mean spending every minute together. You gave me freedom within commitment.

And then things got hard and you taught me I needed to speak up when I felt mistreated. You showed me my own power to stay calm when things got heated. Be cuase of you, I learned to say no, and enough is enough.

Thanks for not encouraging me even when I was surfing good, it made me work harder.

And you know what else? Thanks for not complimenting my body when I craved your attention, thanks for not touching my leg under the table when we sat next to each other, thanks for never holding my hand, thanks for sitting on the opposite couch as me me every night and zoning out to the TV. Thanks for never saying I looked beautiful when I put on a dress. Thanks for never grabbing my ass or stealing a kiss when I walked by.

Thank you for saying I was fat. Thank you for crushing my self esteem. No really, there is no sarcasm or bitterness here, I mean it, thank you.

Because of you I got help. I went to therapy and Alanon and turn to personal development books. I learned about my inner child and taking care of that scared little child inside. The catastrophic end of our relationship forced me to meet her head on, scoop her up, and tell her what she needed to hear.

You gave me the gift of misery. You withheld outside validation. I craved your compliments and your touch. Without them my ego became needier and needier to the point where I could not take it anymore. Without you to medicate my poor self esteem I was forced to feel all the pain, to walk through the suffering, to wallow in the discomfort. You made my darkest self come out.

And I found that victory was waiting for me on the other side. One million of your compliments and loving touches would have never been enough. I looked to your love to fill me, and when I didn’t receive it, I was forced to look within. That is the greatest gift anyone could have ever given me.

I tried to fix you. Just like I tried to fix Josh, just like my mom tried to fix me. I made subtle suggestions, I did things for you that you could have done for yourself, I made sure you knew I was smarter than you. I assumed that if you would just do everything the way I told you to do it that all would be well in the world.

And then you threw it all in my face with a big FUCK YOU the day you went and got high for the first time in almost seven years. You forced me to drag my codependent, manipulative, better-than-you self to alanon where they held up a mirror to showed me my disease was as active as yours. I learned to give up control over you, and everyone else. I learned that people don’t need me. I learned that only one who needs fixing is myself. You, my dear qualifier, you taught me that.

And then there is this beautiful, healthy, perfect body that belongs to me, but is definitely not me. It made me sad every day to be the enemy of my body. But you, my Beautiful Man, you were my elixir for healing. I allowed your words about my body to have power. They sent me to a dark and scary place. I’m so grateful to have gone there, to the place where my worst fear become reality. I got “fat” and nothing happened. I still had friends, people still came to my yoga classes, no one loved me less.

And oh My Love, you taught me to fight. Dear Water Blue Eyed Lover, it was you who made me strong! I was weak and unsure of myself. You sent me to therapy where I learned to set boundaries. Your temper broke me free of the spell of co-dependence. The moment that glazed look came over my soul mate’s face and a monster spoke through my best friend’s mouth, I learned to detach with love. You, my Very Best Friend in the whole wide world, taught me how to love unconditionally. Because of you I wanted to die. You drove me to the darkest moments of my life and because of YOU, my Dream Man, my Partner, I found out what I was made of. I found out I was made of the stuff of stars. I am force, I am the very breath of God. You, my Big Strong Man, you drove me into my shit, into the depths where I found bedrock and there, on rock solid truth, I set my anchors firm at last. Because of you, My Heart’s Truest Love, I am unshakable. Nothing can separate me from who I know I am.

I am un-fuckable-with.

I have the the strength of the universe. I can do anything. And I will.

I will do everything.

You, Kurt, you set me on fire. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Tonight I give up wanting you back. Our relationship was perfect, and is still perfect even in the ice cold silence that now exists. Today I am the best version of myself and I owe that to you, thank you My Love.

With unconditional gratitude,

Your Wife

 

And I meant it. Every word of it.

The Kesha song was on repeat for about the fourteenth time.

Well you almost had me fooled

I had to learn how to fight for myself

I hope you find your peace

I’m proud of who I am

I found a strength I’ve never known

The best is yet to come!

The next morning, I packed my truck once more and made my way to Mex-200. I turned right, toward the south, toward the unknown.

__________

*some names have been changed to protect privacy

__________

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