Day 45

After a few weeks on the island, drama lust and addiction to the unknown appeared, like itches in the middle of my back. I agonized over the decision to stay or to go. The waves were good, the living cheap and the people amazing. But there was so much more to be explored. I called Sean, the guy I had been dating back in San Diego, to tell him how much fun I was having and how good the waves were, but also that I wanted to go explore more. He said something I’ve since repeated to myself many times, whenever I’ve had to make a difficult choice.

“Melanie, I don’t think there is a wrong decision here.”

Sean was an engineer who wore glasses and treated me like an equal. Sean listened to me with respect and also challenged my thinking. Sean verbally complimented my body and my brain. Sean was Ivy League educated and made a very good income. Sean had his shit together. Sean was way too good for me to really be interested in him. I was attracted to drama. We were doomed from the start. Although he wanted a serious relationship, he was nothing but supportive of my need to take a hundred day “vacation” (as I presented it to him, still dishonest with myself, not wanting to hurt him). We agreed to take a hundred day break and just stay “friends” while I was away.

While I had been traveling, we texted every day. I had the best of both worlds: my freedom and a man who had my back, but also a best friend and chat partner from whom I had ample space. Sean, on the other hand, wanted a real relationship. He was lonely without a woman in his life. I brought him a great deal of happiness. It felt awful to think I might take that away from him.

Before I left, he asked me directly for how long I thought I would be gone. The truth was that I didn’t know. The part of me that thought I would be gone forever was much bigger than the part of me that planned to come back. But I felt like I was choking when I tried to answer his question truthfully. I felt that old, familiar tension in my chest, but I didn’t listen to it. So, instead of answering him, or admitting to myself what I really wanted, I held on to my apartment, my furniture, my kitchen items, my camping gear, my snowboarding equipment, my bikes and my boyfriend. I lined up a friend to sublease my apartment and take care of my stuff. I lined up a manager for the yoga studio and told her I would be back in one hundred days. I lined up Sean, a man I could fall back on. When he asked when I would be back, I told him the same lie I had fed myself: in a little over three months. I was too scared of letting everyone down to admit, even to myself, what my heart really wanted.

I had been traveling for close to five weeks when I told Sean about the amazing uncrowded waves I had found on the tiny island. An avid surfer himself, Sean agreed to come visit for a few days.  We spent a whirlwind long weekend holed up in a beachfront cabaña with an ocean view. He splurged, renting the nicest place on the island for $20 per night. We had a shower and a toilet that flushed. I was living in luxury. I could sit up in the morning to see waves from the front window. It was a surf couple’s dream.

On the first full day of Sean’s stay, we enjoyed a post-surf breakfast at a beachfront cafe. I paid a few cents to connect for an hour to the only source of satellite WiFi on the island. Right away, my phone exploded with messages. I had been completely off the grid for a few days. Most of the messages were from my Mom, wondering if I was still alive. But one was from the woman who was subleasing my apartment back in San Diego. She said there was a gas leak and she’d needed to contact the property management. The onsite manager already knew I was out of town and that a friend was watching my place. Although he was fine with this arrangement, the property management most definitely was not, as I would find out.

Over the next day or so, through a series of confusing emails and text messages, coming in at random times over an unreliable Wifi signal, I discovered that my tenant had been abruptly evicted. Basically, I had only a few options:

I could pay rent on a vacant apartment.

I could break the lease and forfeit both the security deposit and my belongings.

I could return home to reclaim my stuff and/or my apartment and return to San Diego life as I once knew it.

I had no means to pay rent on a vacant apartment, so that option was out. Going home to gather all my stuff from the unit, renting a storage unit and then coming back to my road trip was also out of my budget. That left as options either going home and calling my adventure quits, or losing all my stuff.

The next morning, I felt nauseous. I hadn’t been eating as much as I normally did because I felt guilty eating that much in front of Sean. I was also restricting my eating and increasing my workouts for the week leading up to Sean’s visit because I wanted to look perfect when he arrived. As a result, I had lost a couple of pounds. I thought I looked great, but physically I felt awful. My body had weight loss PTSD and was freaking out, thinking I might be going back into old food restriction patterns…which I was. I was completely depleted of energy. The mere thought of paddling out that morning was making me sick. I knew I needed to rest. I sat at the open air breakfast cafe and connected to the WiFi while I watched Sean go for his morning surf. I had a message from my former subletter, demanding I give her all her money back for the headache she endured. Another message was from the landlady, saying she needed either next month’s rent or permission to enter the apartment and remove my stuff so she could get a new tenant.

I watched as Sean caught a big set wave. I turned off my phone. I ordered a fruit plate. I felt the warm sun on my face and dug my toes into the sand. I ate my fruit and then ordered eggs. I scarfed down my eggs with three tortillas before Sean finished surfing, so he wouldn’t know how much I had just eaten. Then I sat and thought about nothing. I heard birds and waves. I felt full and happy.

I saw Sean catch a wave and straighten out his board, aiming for the beach. He was coming in. I knew what I had to do. I knew if I talked to him I would chicken out. I switched my phone back on, and as Sean walking up the beach toward me, board in hand, grinning from ear to ear, I sent off one text to the landlady.

This is my official notice to vacate my unit, effective immediately. Any items left behind may be removed at your discretion.

I switched the phone back off just in time for Sean to arrive at the table. He leaned in and gave me a giant kiss, dripping cool ocean water all over me.

“Best surf trip of my life!” he said, bending down for a second kiss.

“I ended my apartment lease.”

“What about all your stuff?” Sean looked confused.

“I told them to take it.”

Sean looked like someone had hit him.  “So what does that mean?” he asked.

“It means I have no plan, none. It means I’m completely making this up as I go along. It means there is no ship to sail back home.” Finally, I was honest. It felt good.

Step nine of the twelve-step program I followed teaches that, if we are truly honest with ourselves and others, we will “know a new freedom and a new happiness…We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace…Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of…economic insecurity will leave us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.”

And, in that planless moment, I had new freedom.

__________

*some names have been changed to protect privacy

__________

Want to receive the Audio Version of  “100 Day’s in Mexico”? Subscribe with your email for free audio episodes emailed to you weekly.

If you liked this episode a Behind the Scenes Video Commentary is available for Insiders only.

While you wait for more episodes from  “100 Days in Mexico” you can read a lot more content in the VIP section: Become an Insider.

If You Liked it, Share it