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It’s been a long time since my last post, and to be honest, I didn’t think there would be another one. Not only had I lost my motivation to write and my connection to myself, but I’ve felt like I’ve lost my spark. I used to be so naturally high off life itself and felt like the human experience was the most beautiful thing, including the heartache and pain that comes with it. This past year has felt mundane and dull. That doesn’t mean it was void of extremely difficult moments because, trust me, there were a few months when I questioned if I was going to be able to make it. I had to constantly remind myself of one of my favorite personal sayings, “the only way to is through.”
For months, I’ve had the feeling that I needed to start writing again, but I kept subduing my inner voice by focusing on everything else. The fact is, when you’re constantly in survival mode, creativity takes a back seat—Writing? Instead of working and making more money? In this economy? Not ideal.
Therefore, my sole focus was to hustle to survive. Survival mode looks different for all of us. I’m aware that for some people, survival mode is surviving war, famine, assault, disease, etc. For me, survival was trying to afford life. Taking time to write felt like a selfish act. I felt like I wasn’t spending time on something that could get me closer to my goals; therefore, it was a waste of time. I realize now that it was a cheap excuse, but at the time, it was how I felt, and that version of myself didn’t know any better then. I forgive her.
This brings me to now, the reason why I am writing this. My “why” for starting my blog was to drag myself out of a deep, dark hole of depression and grief after the death of my stepdad. Writing is the most powerful tool that made me connect with that spark. I would sit and pour my soul onto my laptop and not think twice about it. And yet, this entire time, I’ve been searching for that same spark and I’ve refused to do the one thing that I know reignites it. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t think I’m a great writer. I’m far from it, but the one thing I do know is that when I write, it comes from my heart and soul. When I write, I am the truest version of myself. There is no denying that version of me. Which brings me to ask myself, was I not writing because I was trying to survive, or was I not writing because I was trying to ignore my emotions? Honestly, I don’t have that answer.
Sometimes the answers to our questions/problems are right in front of our eyes or rather right within us, but we refuse to listen. That voice that kept telling me to start writing again was begging for a chance to prove that it knew the way, and yet I kept ignoring it. As I said, I forgive that version of myself. She was just trying to make it.
As I mentioned earlier, this year has been filled with a special amount of trials and tribulations because, well, “adulting.” I don’t want to even get started on the trash-ass subject that is adulting but trust me when I say that if I could go back and tell God to make me a child for eternity, I would. This year, I’ve lost friendships that I thought were meant for a lifetime. A decision that I made years ago made a full comeback and smacked me straight in the face. It would lead to months of stress trying to figure out how to resolve it. Then, to add some spicy sprinkles on the top of the crazy cake that has been 2023, I decided to put myself back out into the dating world. I QUICKLY regretted that awful life choice. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.
Even though this year came with its own life lessons, I’m grateful that throughout it all, I’ve been healthy and capable of making it through. I’ve reconnected with some of my morning rituals that I had discontinued and started offering Reiki again. In the first part of the year, I travelled to Ireland and Scotland and visited one of my closest friends, which helped remind me how much I love to travel and how much I missed it. Slowly but surely, I’ve been starting to reconnect with my true self—the one that I had abandoned and ignored. The missing piece was what you have in front of you, my writing. I’ve decided that I’m not going to put any pressure into writing. I gave up the dream of having a famous travel blog a while ago because, let’s be honest, most people prefer to watch videos than read a blog. But I’m going to continue to write to find the words that connect me to my true self, and who knows, maybe they will connect someone else to theirs.
This post is dedicated to Daniela. The words will come back, I promise.
Part of this journey of finding the pieces of me that I feel have been missing or hiding lately is rediscovering my passions. You would think that’s an easy task. You just go out and do the things that you like. The crazy thing about life is that if you don’t prioritize time to do the things that you enjoy and before you know it has been months since you’ve actually done them. For example, all of 2021 I can’t tell you a single time that I did something for myself that I truly enjoyed.
An entire year without going hiking every weekend, spending time in nature, photography, and dancing. You can add writing to that list too since my only blog post last year was when my cousin Ethan died. I was so career-focused and concentrated on advancing my career that I forgot to actually enjoy living in the meantime. It’s crazy to sit and think wow – all I did was work and study and go to the gym but that was my life for a solid year and it carried into the beginning of 2022 too. I think focusing on my career would put me in a better position and now that I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, my life really hasn’t changed much because of it. Do I regret focusing on my career? No. Do I regret not making time to enjoy life while focusing on my career? Definitely. That’s why I decided that for the rest of this year I’m focusing on myself.
This brings me back to my passions. Rediscovering your passions is like dating. Except there is no one sitting across from you at the table. It’s just you and whatever you like to do. Rediscovering each other one day at a time. It’s a simple act of saying, “Today I’m going to take my camera out and take pictures. Of what? No idea. But I’m going to do it anyway.” Dedicating an hour of your time to just being present. We get so wrapped up in routines and simply surviving the day that we forget that we’re here to do one thing and one thing only – to live.
As we age, our passions change as well. If you would’ve asked me in my twenties what it is that I enjoyed the most my answer would’ve been partying, drinking tequila straight from the bottle (still a fan of tequila), and eating any and everything. My body and my brain are both grateful that we’ve passed that mess of a stage. Now, if you ask me what my passions are they are anything that makes me feel present and grateful for the beauty in my surroundings and just life in general.
If you happen to have an online dating profile you know the generic question for your passions is “What are your interests?” and we all just fill in the blanks with simple things that make us seem cool to others. Hiking strangely seems to be the most popular, but I don’t see half of the people I know out on the trails so it makes me wonder. Are we saying that we like things just because we think they’re cool or is it because we actually do love them?
Our passions should be the last thing that we lie about and yet it tends to be that we either over exaggerate how much we care about something to make us “fit in” or act unenthused about something that might make us seem less “cool.” I’m at the point in my life where I know I’m weird and I embrace the things about me that make me different. If we were all the same the world would be boring as Hell.
For example, one of my weird passions is blowing bubbles. Hand me a bubble wand and some soap and water and it’s over. Cheap entertainment for hours. I will even admit that my personal birthday gift to myself this year was a bubble bazooka that lights up. The best $35 that I’ve ever spent on Amazon. There’s something about blowing bubbles that takes me back to my childhood where I was carefree and life was rent-free – the glory days.
Obviously, I’m not just dedicating my time to playing with bubbles, I’m adding time into my busy schedule to go for a walk in my favorite local park. Going to art events like the immersive Van Gogh experience that was recently in my city and even throwing in a few concerts here and there. The point is after so long, I feel like I’m finally starting to find those sparks of joy that I’ve been so desperately searching for. If you have felt similar to me as if a piece of you has been missing, I suggest taking 30 minutes of your day to do just one thing that brings you joy and puts a smile not only on your face but on your soul too.
P.S. If you need me, I’ll be over in the corner playing with my fancy bubble gun.
Before me making my first blog post this year I kept hearing this calling to write but I refused to listen to that voice in my head that kept saying, “Write again. You need to write again.” The words kept whispering in my mind for months until I finally sat down and opened a blank word document and let my fingers start flowing to the background music.
The day prior, I had gone to a spiritual event and saw a medium who said that my cousin had a message for me. His message was to start writing again. I burst into tears because no one could possibly know that I had been thinking of writing again. My cousin said that I hold my emotions in and writing would help me to process and release them. It was the missing piece that I was searching for. He knew that it was the push that I needed from the Universe to finally start listening to that whisper.
Since I can remember my form of expressing my emotions has always been writing. When I was little my grandmother used to tell me that I was born to be a writer. I would write poems and short stories and she would tell me how great of a writer I was. It was how I knew to use my imagination. I can’t draw or paint to save my life so the only way to translate the things that I saw in my mind was by writing them down. I can’t remember exactly when I quit writing, but I remember feeling like writing was no longer fun. It was a task. I think after so many essays and research papers and writing with a purpose and not just for the fun of it, I was burned out. What I didn’t know is that abandoning that part of me also meant abandoning my emotions.
I can’t help but think that by starting to write again, I opened the floodgates for an emotional tsunami to take place. Here I was, drowning in emotions, wailing my arms above the tidal waves of life that kept crashing over me and hoping someone would pull me out or at least that my feet would find sand below and bury themselves into the ocean floor.
The emotional tsunami was a mix of events that have happened this year and have happened over the past few years that made me realize just how much I miss certain people and places. I also miss the rush of discovering new destinations and cultures. Somehow the person who craves adventure, mystery, and exciting experiences have reluctantly settled for the comfort of the known and I’m disappointed in myself.
How did I end up here? Why am I allowing myself to remain here? These are questions that I’ve been ruminating over. I still do not have the answers, but I do know that the life that I crave and the life that I was meant to live is not one of conformity. I’ve never been known to settle so why do it now? I need to start writing again to realize that I want and deserve so much more than what I’m living for right now.
In a previous post, I told you that I invited you along for the ride to rediscover and find my missing piece. This is part of it. Riding the tidal waves of emotions and questioning everything. We all want to know why we’re here. The almighty question of “What is my purpose?” Maybe we don’t have a purpose and maybe we do. Maybe mine is to write my journey through struggles and success. Maybe not. Who knows?
All I know is that if I’m going to be riding tidal waves of emotions, I might as well be surrounded by palm trees, and coconuts, and riding actual ocean waves. This means sooner, rather than later, I’ll be returning to the tropics and in a way returning to myself.
Until then, I’ll be envisioning myself near a massive body of water (that isn’t the Ohio River) and soaking in the sun while I sit on my bedroom floor and try to meditate.
P.S. This picture was taken during my first (and only) surf lesson ever. I was so excited because learning how to surf is something that I’ve wanted to do for years. I was stung by a sting ray shortly after this photo was taken. If that day isn’t the perfect analogy for life, I don’t know what is.
This past Thursday I woke up in one of the worst moods. It was a super full moon and my mom always says full moons affect our sleep. Well, this one truly unleashed my insomnia. When I finally fell asleep, the next thing I knew it was time to get up and start my day. I woke up so exhausted that the only thing I want to do was sleep for 48 hours straight but we don’t get paid for sleeping so I had no option other than to get out of bed.
After waking up knowing my day was not off to the greatest start, my sister’s dog that I’m currently dog sitting decided it was time to be a total jerk. I struggled with her on our morning walk and was extremely annoyed that she was acting out. Then I get into the house and my sister’s bougie coffee machine wouldn’t work. Lack of sleep, a super full moon, general fatigue, and my body being decaffeinated made my mood go from bad to foul.
I leave the house and head to work annoyed and pissed off at the world. As Monica would sing, “It’s just one of them days, don’t take it personal.” Anyways, I get to work and decide to recap my horrible morning to my boss when we go to lunch together. While I’m talking about how awful my morning is, I’m also realizing how ridiculous I sound but I’m exhausted and just want to talk about how horrible my day is.
That’s when the Universe decided to humble my overly privileged ass.
We finish lunch and walk out into the restaurant parking lot. I look over and notice a middle-aged homeless man digging through a trash can in the alley. The man was digging through the garbage as if his life depended on it. I didn’t immediately say anything to my boss because I didn’t want the man to hear me. Once we got in my car I told my boss that seeing the man dig through the trash was bothering me and I didn’t know what to do to help. He immediately says, “Hey! I can give him my leftovers.” My boss had a ton of leftover fried rice and then I said, “I think I have $5 let me check and you can give it to him.” With a carry-out box and $5 in his hand, my boss walks over and hands the man the food and money.
While my boss is walking back to my car he doesn’t notice, but I see the man open the box and take a massive bite out of the food. This poor soul was legitimately starving to death. I felt awful. Here I am a few minutes prior complaining over how awful my day is because of a stupid coffee machine and my dog niece acting like a jerk. I felt like a horrible person. To make matters even worse, my boss says, “Tell me again about how you’re having a bad day.”
I started to reflect and think about how I was complaining over something so pointless and minimal. I also started to think that I was turning into the same people that I cannot stand.
When I first moved back to the U.S. one of the things that I noticed is how much people complain over stupid shit and how rude they are towards people. The first year I was back I was so highly annoyed by the number of times I saw someone mistreat someone simply because they weren’t getting their way. The U.S. is the land of the extremely overprivileged and the “you must do what I say because I say” group of people in the world. Entitled is the overstatement of the century. And here I am, becoming what I detest the most.
I had to check myself because I refuse to become ungrateful.
My day continued on and my mood changed for the better. I couldn’t believe how ridiculous I had behaved in the morning and I was grateful for life reminding me that, “Things could always be worse.” I started to think of the things that I’m grateful for in my head and remind myself just how fortunate I truly am. I thought that what happened that afternoon would be the most impactful event of my day.
Then life had other plans.
That evening I decided to stop by Walgreens and pick something up on my way home. While I’m searching for what I wanted to buy, I overhear a Walgreens employee say, “The machine is in English and I don’t speak your langue so I won’t be able to help you.”
My first instinct is to try to help. I speak 4 languages so I think to myself that maybe I speak this person’s language. I walk over and ask the lady, “Where are you from? Maybe I speak your language.” She tells me that she’s from Afghanistan.
I don’t speak Farsi but I still wanted to help her. I asked her what she is trying to do. In broken English, she explained to me that her daughter lives in Russia and she needs to send her money via Western Union. The Walgreens employee is standing there and she tells me that the Western Union machine doesn’t work after 9 p.m. and it was 9:01 p.m.
So I thought, ok. How can I help this woman? I told her I was going to write down the information in English on a piece of paper so that when she went to Walgreens the next day she can show them the information and they can help her send her daughter money.
Thank God for Google Translate because between that, her broken English, and my non-existent Farsi, we got it all written down.
She explains to me that she doesn’t have a car and she had walked to Walmart, Kroger, and now Walgreens to try and send her daughter money and wasn’t able to. I offer to drive her home so she doesn’t have to walk alone in the dark.
While driving her home I ask her how long she’s been in the U.S. and she tells me she has been here for 10 years and 4 months. She said she has no family and no friends here. She says to me that her whole family was killed in Afghanistan by terrorists who bombed her home. She lost her parents, siblings, husband and two year old daughter. The only reason why she is alive is because her and her other daughter were in the hospital together at the time of the bombing. When they returned home they couldn’t recognize any of their family members in the rubble of the bombing.
I’m driving and trying my hardest to hold back tears.
She also has kidney problems and if they get worst she will not be able to travel and she’s crying telling me she may never be able to see her daughter and grandchildren again in Russia if she has to go on dialysis.
My heart literally broke.
She is crying telling me her story and I’m just devastated for her. I told her I’m going to pray for her and she will see her daughter again. I just know it.
We get to her house and she tells me to come in and she will make me tea or give me juice and she keeps thanking me for helping her. I politely tell her not to worry about it and that she doesn’t need to thank me for anything.
She looks at me and says, “You are an angel from God.” (Clearly, she doesn’t know me.) And she asks to kiss my hand. I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to kiss my hand but I also understand cultural norms and I told her that if she felt like she needed to kiss my hand she could. She kisses my hand and says “thank you!”
I give her my name and phone number and tell her to call or message me on WhatsApp if she has any problems trying to send her daughter money and I will try to help her the best way that I can.
After I drop my new friend off, I drive home and think to myself, if that were my mom in another country where she wasn’t fluent in the language, I hope someone would help her.
I get home and start to process the conversation and the day that I’ve had. Then I think.
How fucking lucky am I?
I’ve not lost my entire family to a bombing. I am healthy. I have food to eat. I don’t have to dig through the trash. I don’t have to worry about being healthy and able to travel to see my loved ones.
I am beyond blessed.
I share this story to show how we are all guilty of taking life and what we have for granted. We are all struggling in different ways, some way more than others, but we can always take a look around and be grateful for the things that we do have. As much as I try to practice gratitude and be mindful, there are still days when I forget just how lucky I am.
I also share this story as a reminder to be kind and empathetic towards others. It cost me absolutely nothing to help this woman. It also cost me nothing to help the homeless man. I know some would argue that it did because I gave him $5 but $5 to me isn’t anything in the grand scheme of things.
Kindness and empathy cost nothing and they typically provide you with the greatest reward of all; the reward of knowing that you did the right thing.
The next day I spoke with my new friend and asked her to let me know if she is able to send her daughter money and if she needed my help I would help her. I’ve added a screenshot of our conversation. Her sweet words mean the world to me and are proof that people doing the right thing is always the right thing.
P.S. My new friend’s name means Star in Farsi and I think she
When any year comes to an end, we all reflect on what the year has been for us. Most of the time, we run down the list of accomplishments, failures, or major life events such as deaths, weddings, babies, etc. This year, everyone’s most significant achievement is surviving.
We often don’t give ourselves enough credit for simply making it through an awful year. If you are reading this and are beginning to reflect on what you accomplished, what you should have done, what you wanted to do, and couldn’t, let me stop you right there. You are alive, and you are breathing. This year dug its claws into the sides of most people and wreaked havoc. If you’ve made it to December 31st, 2020, then thank yourself. Thank yourself for being able to endure a roller coaster ride that none of us asked to ride.
For me, 2020 wasn’t my worst year. I know people are shocked when I say that 2020 wasn’t my worst year, but trust me, I’ve hit rock bottom and found that it had a basement years ago. For me, 2020 was a blessing, and I’m grateful for the gift that this year has been for me. While saying this, some people are being evicted from their homes, young children are starving, someone is breathing their last breath in an ICU bed alone, and some people’s mental health is at its worst. I recognize that to be able to say that 2020 is a blessing is a privilege, and I acknowledge it fully and my heart truly goes out to those who have lost everything this year. I hope and pray that 2021 brings you nothing but blessings.
For me, 2020 wasn’t the year in which I accomplished anything, and being someone who prides themselves on checking everything off on their long list of goals, that’s a hard pill to swallow. In fact, I lost a lot when most people look at what happened, but I feel like I gained so much more.
Starting from the beginning of the pandemic, I lost my jobs; all forms of income flew out of the window. I had no clue how I would survive. I had agreed to take a position and move to Italy in May pre-pandemic. We all know how that eventually went since I continue to sit in the U.S. Since Italy was no longer part of the picture, I interviewed with a specific government branch. I made it through the entire hiring process and was 95% guaranteed the job. This was a huge relief considering I had been three weeks without employment and was losing my mind on how I would make money.
At the very end of the hiring process, I was only waiting to receive the formal paperwork; they informed me that they couldn’t offer me the job because I had lived outside the U.S. 3 out of the last five years. I guess I can spend the entire first 18 years of my life in the U.S., and those count for nothing. Who knew. Either way, I didn’t get the job, and it was one that I wasn’t going to have a single financial worry, ever. Finding out that I wasn’t qualified for a government job because I’ve lived a life outside of the U.S. triggered me to thinking of just leaving the country altogether, again. I considered moving back to Panamá since I figured if I have to be stuck somewhere might as well be stuck somewhere with nice weather.
The roller coaster ride of figuring out what I was going to do continued for months. I had no clue what I was going to do with my life, where I wanted to be, what I wanted to be. No clue. I honestly still don’t have all the answers to those questions, but let’s be honest, who does?
This roller coaster ride also included a moment of emotional vulnerability. At the height of quarantine, I decided it was time to confess my feelings for a friend. After years of not wanting to admit how I felt, not acknowledging that I have feelings, and having more walls built around my heart than Fort Knox, I decided it was time to be vulnerable. Besides, what else did I have to lose this year?
I had the genius idea of writing a handwritten letter to a friend and confessing my feelings for them. It was like a flashback to kindergarten when we wrote those notes to each other, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Circle yes or no. Except this was the 31-year-old version where I explained how I had feelings for him but never had the guts to say anything because I feared messing up our friendship. I didn’t want to ruin years of friendship by having feelings for him, but I figured it’s now or never. I poured my heart out onto the pages and left nothing unsaid. He kindly returned me to the friend zone in which I belong.
Although confessing my feelings, something that I never do if I honestly like someone, was a huge step as far as I’m concerned. I probably would have never told him if it hadn’t been for this crazy year. It would have been my secret that I took with me to the grave, and we would have continued being friends, him having no clue how I felt and me pretending that I didn’t care when deep down, I do care. It was also a friendly reminder that it’s ok to be vulnerable. Vulnerability is what most of us avoid, but we would probably see more rewards if we were more willing to risk it. I may have ended up in the friend zone, but I am proud of myself for taking the risk and also getting the weight of my feelings off of my chest. Zero regrets.
Although I just explained some of my many low points this year, thankfully, one disappointment after another this year led me to continue to go within and figure out who I am, what I want, and what is for my highest good. Facing myself and my fears of not being successful, being rejected, being stuck in one place, not traveling, etc., and work through every one of them has been the biggest blessing 2020 could have given me. Any other year I would be too busy traveling, working, living life to the fullest that I wouldn’t take the time to go within and ask myself, “What is it that you want?” I don’t have all of the answers; no one does, but I’m still searching for them, and that’s the best anyone can do.
2020 stopped me in my tracks and forced me to take the time to sit with myself and work through a lot of the things that I kept pushing to the side. Most of us want to leave everything behind in 2020 and start fresh tomorrow when we wake up. However, I want to carry some things that I’ve learned in 2020 with me into 2021.
The first one is gratitude and being grateful for everything. I’m grateful for this year of hard lessons, my health, my family’s health, and my many friends who have supported me this year. I’m grateful for it all. The second one is vulnerability. Remembering that showing feelings and having feelings isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s a sign of strength. The third is my health. I want to continue to stay on a healthy path where I focus on my physical, mental and emotional health. As they say, “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” so I am going to continue to fill mine so I can serve others.
2020 may have been the year we never wanted, but it is the year in which a lot of our eyes opened to see what matters the most. In the end, all we have is our health, our family, our friends, and our thoughts and feelings. The rest of it means nothing. Instead of saying, F*** You, 2020, I’d like to say Thank you, 2020.
Happy New Year friends,
Janel
P.S. This video of Snoop Dogg thanking himself is what all of us need to be doing at the end of 2020.
I have so much to be grateful for and not just this year but every year. I’m healthy, I have my family and friends, I was able to travel at the beginning of the year, and I’ve rediscovered some of my passions. Honestly, my gratitude list could go on forever. However, we are all aware of what a roller coaster ride 2020 has been. I’ve had two long periods of writer’s block during this year. This is the first blog post that I publish in weeks because I’ve had the worst round of writer’s block of my life, but even with the downs of 2020, this year has been a blessing in disguise for me.
I know you may be thinking to yourself, say what? The girl who catches flights, the one who is always searching for the next big adventure, is calling 2020 a blessing when she hasn’t been able to travel since March? I know, shocking! The truth is, 2020 is a blessing in its own way. Having to stay in one spot and go on the most intense journey, the journey within myself, is probably one of the best things that could have happened this year.
I’m grateful for the moments of solitude that 2020 has brought me. Being “stuck” in one place has given me no other option than to go within and take a look at what has been missing, what has been ignored, and what it is that I desire. Do I have all the answers? No, I don’t. However, I have more insight into what I want, who I want to become, and what I want to do. Trust me; I don’t plan on giving up travel because one of the answers to what I want to do with my life is still to travel the world, but without taking the time to soul search, I would probably still be roaming the world to look for the answers that have always been within.
This year has been difficult and challenging for almost everyone I know. Some have lost loved ones, some have lost their jobs as I did, some have dealt with unexpected health issues, and others have faced some of their worst moments. This year’s trials feel more prominent than the triumphs, but I choose to remain positive and look at this year as a challenge. A time to step up to the plate and show the universe what you are made of.
The truth is it doesn’t matter what year it may be; there will always be problems and challenges to face. Maybe this year is the one that came in to remind us to remain grateful. To quit taking for granted the small things like going for a walk in the park, talking with friends and family, and sharing a meal with a loved one. These are the things that matter the most. The more we lead our lives in gratitude, the more we realize that we have an abundant amount of items to be grateful for.
With all of this being said, I want to say that I am grateful. I am thankful for this year; however screwed up it may be. I’m grateful for my health, family, friends, passions, talents, and faults. I’m thankful for 2020 and all of the tests, lessons, and blessings it has brought. Last but not least, I am grateful for every single one of you. Those of you who read my blog, follow me on social media, call yourself my friend or family, and am thankful to have each of you in my life. Thank you for following me along this crazy journey called life. Have a Happy Thanksgiving!
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