What a difference a year can make. Haven’t we seen that during these COVID years? Who among us thought we’d experience a global pandemic? Wearing masks everywhere we went? Sanitizing our hands every thirty seconds? Learning the difference between droplets and aerosolized particles? Good masks and bad masks? Sore ears? No one answered “where do you see yourself in five years” with the response – masked up! Isolated from my friends and family! World shut down! Yet, here we are.

Two years ago, I was just working along, hating my job, and marking time until I died. Then I went on vacation and had a defining moment. I’m not doing this anymore. I don’t know what I’ll do, but this isn’t it. Then you know, of course, the job, Hawaii, fear, bravery, all the bullshit that I’ve gone on and on about that seems so distant anymore. It’s just whatever now. What seemed like an inspirational, monumental experience is just a thing I did. There’s nothing special about it. I need to stop making it more than it was. I got on a plane. Big deal.

That plane ride was one year ago today. When I realized what the date was today, I began to reflect on how different my world view was then. I remember sitting in the Portland airport. It was a rainy day, dark and gray, of course. I took a few pictures because I wanted to commemorate this gigantic departure. I was leaving everyone and everything familiar to embark on this new adventure. As I was sitting there waiting to board the plane, I was trying to wrap my mind around the idea of a one way ticket. Here’s a funny thing. I had no keys. That fact wasn’t lost on me. I had a keychain – something I’d never had in my life but one of my coworkers gave it to me as a parting gift. But I had no keys. I’d shipped my car so the shipping company had my car key. I didn’t have a home in Portland anymore. I didn’t yet have the keys to my place in Hawaii. It was a very odd feeling. I felt a bit homeless, honestly. 

I got on the plane and took more pictures out the window before we taxi’d and took off. Raindrops were running down the window of the plane and nothing but gray clouds everywhere. It was a cold, February morning. Once we took off and got above the clouds, I began to feel the excitement of going to Hawaii in the middle of winter. I still had much trepidation about this journey but for a few moments, I could just embrace the idea that I would be in the sun soon. I had a layover on Maui for a bit. I got some lunch and took a few pictures. As I remember it, I was tired but also a bit shaky. I was having to talk myself through the experience and breathe. It was just such a surreal moment. I’m not on vacation.

I flew into Kona. It was way cheaper that than flying into Hilo even though I would be living in Hilo. I had everything I owned in two giant, heavy suitcases and a carry on. I gathered my baggage and schlepped it across the road to the rental car shuttle. The air was warm and thick. My bags were ridiculously heavy and awkward. But this was my life now. I’m alone. I thought I’d been alone before because I’m so independent but this is next level alone. No one is meeting me at the airport to help me with my bags. No one is going to lift my bags onto the shuttle to the rental car area. No one is going to help me, period. This is what I signed up for and that’s what I got. So I got to lift two 80 pound suitcases up the stairs (plural) onto the shuttle bus. Getting them off was way easier – gravity. I rented a car and began the drive across the island.

I was equally excited and terrified. I called my daughter as I was driving up the hill out of Kona to tell her I’d just seen a goat on its hind legs eating a flower on the side of the road. What the hell? What kind of place did I get myself into? I drove across the island listening to music and feeling anxious. I just wanted to see Hilo. I’d been there once for a few minutes and never got out of the car. I’d hoped my apartment was cool but I’d have been satisfied with safe and clean. Turns out it was not so cool but not bad. Some refer to it as the ghetto apartments. Safe? I suppose so since there’s security walking the property 24/7 but it begs the question, why is that necessary? Oh well, I’m committed now. I drove to the apartment as the sun was setting just to lay eyes on it. I was going to an Air BnB that night. I grabbed some teriyaki from what turned out to be a pretty awful place and headed for my resting place. It took a while to find it but eventually I did. I settled into what felt like a boarding house situation except it smelled like mold. Funny, turns out when the ceiling is completely covered with black mold and it’s sagging and coming apart, it gives off an odor. And, there was no AC so it was hot, smelly, and loud. Welcome to Hawaii.

In the morning, the sun rose over Hilo bay. I was on a hillside overlooking the town and the ocean. I’m never up at sunrise but between being anxious, the difference in time, and the lack of sleep, I was up. I went to my apartment and met with the property manager. She gave me a tour and KEYS. My bed was being delivered that day. As soon as I had the keys, I put my suitcases in the apartment and went shopping. I needed everything and I mean everything. I brought clothes, that’s it. I set about buying the essentials as cheaply as possible. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to buy absolutely everything for a functional home at the same time? It’s ridiculous. Trip after trip to and from the store, unboxing, unpacking, breaking down boxes, piling up packaging, so much packaging. I’d bring a car load of stuff, unpack it, take the packaging out to the dumpster (no recycling here) and go back to the store for more. I didn’t buy anything unnecessary, impractical, or unuseful. But it was a big job.

I got the house somewhat functional, emphasis on the “somewhat.”  When I say somewhat, I mean I had a step ladder, a beach chair, a lamp on a cardboard box, and that’s it. I lived that way for over a month – well, a TV landed in the mix fairly soon. Then I went to the grocery store – same story. We take for granted having things in the cupboard like you know, salt and pepper. I couldn’t just buy the groceries for the week. I had to outfit the kitchen. Ugh. Then my first reality hit me. What do you mean there’s no chicken? At all? Like none? In Portland, I’d make a list, go to the store, and buy what was on my list. In Hawaii, you buy what’s available. Sometimes the shelves are empty. Again, what have I gotten myself into? 

I spent my first week with logistics of the house then started my job on February 8. And so began this long, arduous “adventure” that I asked for. Well, it’s been a lot. A year ago today, I was full of hope and anticipation of this new journey, this ME time of my life. This was doing what I wanted to do for the first time without consideration of taking care of my daughter or my mother. My daughter had successfully launched and my mother had passed. This was my time. I came to Hawaii to pursue my passion, make a difference, and have a greater sense of purpose in a climate that made me feel my best. What happened was anything but that. Sure, there have been some wonderful moments here and there but if I look at the balance of my time here, I’d give it a solid 4, maybe.

One year later and I’m looking at plane tickets again only this time, it’s retreating back to where I came, probably. I don’t want to go back to Oregon but it’s looking like all roads point there. My job has become completely unbearable and intolerable. The new owners have changed everything. What was once a very special place of healing has turned into a rehab factory only concerned with cashing insurance checks. There’s no emphasis on helping people change their lives. It’s all about the almighty dollar at the expense of the safety of the clients. We are capitalizing on a very vulnerable population. These clients have burned their lives to the ground. They are desperate. What we used to do was dive deep into trauma, have frequent and intense, twice daily one on one therapy sessions, have classes on core beliefs and how trauma impacts our lives long term. Now, we have one on one sessions once a week. The rest of the time is spent in “classes” which I’m pretty sure we all had in freshman health class. Here’s all the negative effects of alcohol. Well no shit, sherlock. Isn’t that the definition of addiction? You know it’s killing you and you still can’t stop. If informing these people of the consequences was enough of a deterrent, they would have quit by now. GRRRRR. They are doing things that are completely unethical, unsafe, non-compliant, and illegal. 

So, I gotta go. I would so much rather stay in Hawaii but the job opportunities aren’t here, especially on this island. I’ve had a ton of interviews but only one on this island. I expanded my search to include the other islands in hopes of staying a bit longer but it’s slim pickings. I have a second interview in Honolulu but I’ve had two third interviews in Oregon. They are calling my references. An offer or two is likely imminent. Isn’t it funny how you think you want something then when it’s offered, you get really clear on what you don’t want? In December, I was so sure I needed to go back “home.” My heart was hurting so deeply. I just wanted to be around those that love me. But it was Christmas so I didn’t take many steps to make a change. January rolls around and the hostile corporate takeover happens which in some ways was good because it was a welcome distraction. But I feel like I need to run and NOW. I’m trying to slow myself down so I can make intentional choices and not jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. I really don’t want to go to Oregon but I’m afraid I won’t have a choice. I can’t stay at this job, they won’t lay me off so I could get unemployment while I get a plan, I asked, there aren’t my kinds of jobs here, and I need to work. 

Unfortunately, the cumulative effect of this past year has changed my perspective and shaken my belief in myself. While others are commending me on my so called bravery for taking this on, I’m feeling extremely small. I signed up to write a book, invested a pile of money for support in that endeavor, and since then, have written one blog post, nothing else. My inspiration has dried up entirely. I have no more words. My idea that my story will inspire others doesn’t seem true anymore. My compulsion to help others seems futile. I don’t have anything to say. I’m just a woman that made some choices and am walking through the consequences of those choices. 

I hate posting thoughts like this. It just feels so self indulgent and whiny. I typically try to end my postings with the lesson or the plan or the epiphany. There isn’t one tonight, boys and girls. I’m just going to try to ride this storm out and not make a rash decision because I’m so uncomfortable. My team is encouraging me to stay to see what happens. I’m not sure if they are saying that so I don’t, in fact, make a snap decision that I might regret. I think more likely is that when I got here, I was a bit of comfort for them. I helped them and eased their burden. I lightened their load and offered support that they’d been lacking. They needed and wanted a leader and once I earned their trust, beautiful things happened. But, I can’t save them anymore. I am no longer in charge. There is a layer of corporate people above me from California that are calling all the shots and changing everything. So much for being told when the business was sold that they wouldn’t change anything. I knew when this was announced and I did my research that it was going to be bad but per usual, I talked myself out of what my gut knew to be true. I think really, they want me to stay so they can quit first because the whole team with the exception of 3-4 are leaving as soon as they can find other work.

So here I sit on February 1, 2022, one year after I started on this journey with a sad heart and a swollen arm. I finally got to experience fire ants for the first time today. Turns out I’m allergic. Where there was once hope, wonder, and anticipation there’s now sorrow, disappointment, and anger. Do I wish I’d never made the decision to come to Hawaii? I’m not sure I have the answer. I think it changes. There are times, yes, I wish I’d never come here. What was supposed to be this beautiful, life expanding journey has turned out to be another fucking lesson in expectations. I expected moving here would be wonderful. I had really tried to embrace the glass half full mentality and open myself to possibility, to say yes. You can’t be disappointed if you have no expectations, right? Expectations sometimes reside very deep in my DNA, I’m learning. I’m hoping when I get some distance and these experiences are in my rear view mirror I will be able to look back and be glad I made the choices I did. Right now, my arm itches. I’m hungry and nauseated at the same time. I’m shaky and a little panicky. I’m sleep deprived and I have interviews starting at 5:00am. Then off I’ll go to work and get insulted some more and be further disgusted by watching very sick people suffer because money is more important than help. 

As depressing as this sounds, and it certainly is, if you’re thinking of emailing or texting or calling, please don’t. It’ll be fine. It always is. I don’t really want to hear how brave I am or how amazing I am or “you got this” or any of that. Those conversations will just make me regret posting this. It’ll feel like I’m asking for compliments or some shit and I’m really not. I am pulling myself out like I always do. I went to the beach for the first time since December 5. I actually went outside. Last weekend, I went to the pool, both days, and got some sun. These experiences are why I came here. Sitting in my house for two months hasn’t helped my mood and it seems those opportunities to be in Hawaii are now very finite. I’m going to try to force myself to be in the sun and the water. Who knew that would be a thing – forcing myself to go to the beach in Hawaii? But salt water has healing properties for me – sweat, tears, and the sea. As I’ve said to others in times of struggle, I’ve survived 100% of my hardest days thus far. I can get through this too, and I will.