florida

So, I realize that I do not write very many long entries. Actually, I have yet to do it on this blog. I do not have issues to discuss nor situations to dissect. I am not very interesting in that aspect. I write cryptically because I do not feel comfortable in explaining everything in my mind to the internet world, but I feel a kind of relief with writing them down here that way. I don't know, God knows who's reading this. Either way, this is an actual entry, and I've thought about it a lot while sitting up in the lifeguard chair, so here we go.

I leave for family vacation this Friday (maybe Saturday.) We are going to the usual place, the same beach I have visited every summer of my life except for last summer. That beach house means a lot to me. When something means a lot to me I want to share it with someone I care about as well.

Well, this will be the first time going to Florida without bringing someone. I did not go last summer, and to be honest I could not have emotionally handled being away from Louisville for that long last summer. With the end of high school and my ridiculous dread of the start of college, I probably would have spent the whole week freaking out that my incredibly unstable relationship with my reluctant boyfriend was going to end a few weeks earlier than already doomed to.

Two years ago I took that same boyfriend. Things have changed a lot in two years since I have been to the beach. Two years ago Laura could walk, I was unnaturally head over heels over my first boyfriend, and my older sister spent her time at the beach hiding under layers of clothing and never actually going outside between the hours of 10 AM and 7 PM. (I don't think she wore a swimsuit once.) Two years ago I had money to spend and a naive way of viewing the world. I realize that two years is a very long time and I am glad that these things have changed, with the exception being my baby sister of course.

Three summers ago I took Leah to the beach. However, every single night starting around 10, I would talk on the phone with Matt Roseberry for hours on end. I remember sitting under the stars, talking and talking. (Poor Leah. I totally ignored her during the evening.) Four summers ago, my cousin Kelly came to the beach with me and kept me company. Five summers ago I brought my childhood friend Kenna. The summers before that are a blur of cousins and family members. (And my older sister's best friend Angie who was a hilarious addition to the family trip. Remind me to reminisce about her antics on the beach.)

What I am trying to explain here is that I have never really been to the beach alone. During the day I have had someone to explore the island with and to talk to and lay out with. I've had someone to show my childhood to, which I feel is a huge part of myself. I've had someone to talk to at night until I fell asleep. And I have come to the conclusion that this trip is going to be different.

And you know what? I am okay with that. I have come to realize that I do not exactly flourish when left alone. When I do not have someone nearby that I can relate to or confide in, I become very grumpy. I think that this is mainly because I do not enjoy my own company so much, maybe a little bit of boredom as well. My pessimistic outlook brings me down and my overly nostalgic mind remembers too many details. I allow the environment and people around me to influence my mood too much. Either way, I hate to be alone, and I know that this trip will mean that I will spend a deal of time within my own little head.

Here at home I acknowledge this problem, but push it away with work and friends and social activities. I do not like to be alone, so I avoid it all costs. I feel that this trip to Florida will be my chance to relax and become a little more comfortable with spending time with myself. This week away I can take tons of pictures and sleep and write in my journal and read books. This week away I can look at those memories head on, smile at them, say, "that was a nice period of my life, but it's passed now," and move the fuck on. I fear that I am missing the present life I am living because I remember the past too much. (Although the past few months I have been much much better about that, really and truly. I am pretty happy with my current life and relationships.) A few months ago, I would have freaked at the idea of going back to a place so full of memories. I acknowledge that the beach is full of memories for me, but I'm not afraid anymore.

I am ready to have some time to myself. I am ready to become content with my memories, content with my life, and ultimately content with myself.


"I am learning how to be alone without being lonely, learning how to be lonely without losing my mind."