It might be like a heart break, but I'm too numb to tell.

Sometimes I reread my posts and I want to say, "gag me." Magic? Love, passion, positivity, friendship? How can you be talking about all that emotional mumbo jumbo when other days, you don't believe in that stuff at all. It makes me feel false. I'm always preaching about emotions, trying to look for beauty, and searching for the silver lining of storm clouds, or at least advocating being brave enough to face those darkened shapes in the first place, but I can't get in touch with what is buried within me. This struck me when received an e-mail telling me that my parents are finalizing their divorce and I felt...nothing.

I feel nothing. Not a god damn thing.

I sit in front of my computer and reread the e-mail and think, "well, okay." Actually to be honest, the first lines were, "I'm sorry I have to tell you this through an e-mail. Your Dad..."

Immediately, I panicked. I thought, "Oh, shit, what happened to my Dad?" I skipped ahead to see what the hell the conclusion of the statement was.

When it amounted to an official divorce, I released my breathe. Relieved. Then, I thought, "well, okay."

Really? Relieved? Well, okay? That's it? Is that how people are supposed to react to information like that? I didn't know what to think. Then, I wrote back something lame like, "thanks for telling me; let me know if you need anything."

That was it. I didn't think or feel anything. 
Sometimes it's as if I'm this chick in Mean Girls... 

 ...talking about rainbows and smiles, all full of emotions, but not really talking about anything substantive.

I sat down and I tried to draw some doodle related to my childhood, you know, unearth past memories to try to feel something, but I just felt pathetic. I guess I wanted to feel angry or resentful or hateful. I wanted to feel something that I imagine you are supposed to feel when the carpet gets pulled out from under you. I looked at my doodle and it was pretty apparent that it wasn't happy, but that's all I really got. I thought, "yeah things were pretty shitty at home. I guess they always were." Maybe I'm still kind of overwhelmed by how things went down, but it's all so far in the past now, or too much to comprehend, that it just feels like..."whatever."

I'm numb. I feel indifferent. I tell myself that I don't care. I try to be angry or hurt, but I just feel detached. Actually, my sister used to get angry with me and is probably still angry with me, because she always thought I should be angry, that I should not want to talk to my parents, or that I should have told them that if they didn't change, they would lose their relationship with me. I can't do it though. I don't believe myself when I think that I could walk away from either of them, despite their downfalls, despite the darkness. Instead, I retreat into my little crab shell, demand some alone time, and try to conjure up anything that might resemble a feeling...

In the crashing waves and encroaching tide, I remain unmoving. Watching as the world swirls around me, I'm stationary without any idea as to whether I should run or scream.

It might be like a heart break, but I'm too numb to tell.

Summer Birthday

Driving down my hill Sunday morning, the sun was shining brightly, the weather was warm and delicious, and I was filled with birthday anticipation, but I started feeling something else, also. I started to feel like this 8 year old just got a little older.

I remember when a good friend of mine turned 24 a few years ago. I remember it clearly, because I thought to myself, "shoot, 24 years old sounds old." I was twenty-two - what a youngin, right? Well, I couldn't really imagine being 24 then, but here I am. I call it a "golden birthday". (If you are thinking about R. Kelly in this moment...you cut that out.) It's a golden birthday because I turned 24 on the 24th of June! Interestingly, my sister also had her golden birthday this year, 21 on the 21st. Even more interestingly, my birthday happens to be all even numbers - 06/24/1988, while Heather's is made up of odd numbers - 01/21/1991. I like the symmetry.

But, I digress. Do you remember what it felt like, as a child, starting summer vacation? For me, it always meant butterflies. The figurative ones. (I may or may not be afraid of literal ones.) I remember exchanging goodbyes with class mates, making big plans, and looking forward to the uncertainty of the vacation months. The summer could be anything you wanted it to be - vast and infinite space to fill with a summer job, summer camp, free time for reading or "being bored", sports training, renewed friendships with neighborhood kids, family trips, or even the chance for summer romance. The summer was always romantic in my eyes.

I loved the opportunity for change that summer inspired, like the beginning of a new chapter. Though I had all of these plans for each new year - I'll do this...I'll be that...I'll try this...I'll find my way...I'll get straight A's...I'll finally talk to so-and-so...you know the drill - at the beginning of summer, it seemed like you had a chance to let go of all of the pressures and just get lost in the frivolity of the season. A new year would be around the corner, bringing new changes and challenges, but the chance to build forts, initiate neighborhood water wars, camp out in the backyard, and partake in general shenanigans, made me feel like the summer would last forever.

Though, not forever, forever. And, that's part of it too. I don't know how people do it all of their lives, but perpetual summer isn't all that it is cracked up to be. I believe that the summer seduces us because the winter is cold and the spring - bipolar, so then when summer finally hints at it's presence, promising warm weather and adventure, we can't help but get that giddy, expecting feeling. My birthday spearheaded all of this for me, however, in Phuket, "summer", like I've described from my childhood, doesn't exist.

Here, it is hard to get caught up in the emotions of seasons or months, because months don't really mark any changes and therefore, don't really matter. They all just all sort of blend together under a blanket of consistency. Weather teeters between a state of rain and island sun, never throwing blizzards or droughts or any of that North American climate stuff into the mix. Though it is gorgeous most of the time and I'm thrilled to have perfect beach weather, don't get me wrong, it doesn't always feel like summer. So, when I set off for birthday breakfast, imbibing sunshine and nostalgia, and I was hit with a feeling of summer, it really made my day. Summer! Finally! With all that has been happening in Phuket, everything is radiating summer.

This time of good byes exchanged with friends, birthday shenanigans, fantastic weather, and the whole turning 24 thing, has fused with anticipation for my trip back to America next month, the opportunity for change, the romance, the frivolity, and the uncertainty of summertime. Oh, "the uncertainty" has summer written all over it. It has "welcome to a new year" as the victory banner and 8 year old grins as the going look.

I just feel so darn giddy!

After breakfast, a group of us drove from the southern part of Phuket, up the winding coast, to the northern beaches. It was like a beach crawl, where we hit up all of the beaches as we cruised, jumped in the crashing waves, and shared drinks under the summer sun. Everything about it was fantastic and exactly what I wanted. With good friends, good times, and a little bit of exploration thrown in with it all, it was golden.

Sitting on the sand, facing summer and the setting sun, my head was caught in the webs of this last year. 23 was a very intense year. I wasn't always graceful and I had a lot of sorting out to do. Though each year is full of ups and down, I feel as though I learned a lot about myself and my abilities in the last 12 months and am starting to really get on my feet. It's something about the symmetry, but it's my golden birthday, and with a golden summer stretched out ahead of me, yes, my mind is filled with romanticized dreams of the next few months, but something about turning 24 no longer sounds old to me, it just sounds magical.

Mr. Bob Went To Night Club

This is just a tribute. 

A couple of days a week, I have the pleasure of tutoring some fantastic Korean students who attend an international school here in Phuket. At that international school, my friend, Bob, is their regular math teacher...
 

Hi, Bob! 

Hah! I had to creep on his Facebook to acquire this "non party photo" of the man, because though a bonofied teacher (in America even) and a responsible and upstanding person, Bob has rage in this heart and dance in his soul, and that side is usually the side I capture on camera.

So, I tutor a couple of his students and one day, I was killing my time with one of the young ones by playing a game of Hangman. I had been spelling words like C-A-R-N-I-V-O-R-E, after our lesson on sharks. (He's awesome 'cause he's at the age where all he wants to do is talk about ninjas and dangerous animals. He loves soccer and Real Madrid, andddd he thinks Titanic 3D is gross because, you know, that guy...like...draws a picture...of that girl....)

It was his turn to come up with a word or sentence for me to solve. I started guessing letters and slowly, this is what was revealed -

M - R - B - O - B...what? I was confused - expecting something shark related. Then I filled in the rest of the letters and laughed out loud.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, "What is this?"
"Mr. Bob go night club," Harry said. "My sister...her friend...he saw him," he reported as if he was divulging the most scandalous news an eleven year old had ever been privileged with.

Mr. Bob went to night club, eh? Haha. Well, it just shows you how small this island really is. You can't go anywhere, especially if your students have older siblings who are at the age where going out means attending the bars frequented by the teacher population.

Last night though, well, at 3 a.m. this morning and after an evening of drinks and a proper Thai seafood feast, Mr. Bob didn't "go night club", he went to America. This post is a tribute to the Phuket family member, Bob. Though I'll see him for Pretty Lights in August, his presence in Thailand is going to be missed. Like I said, rage in his heart and dance in his soul...

First time meeting Bob we had a trippy walk to a waterfall.

King crab! Camping Trip

Ross' birthday fiasco.

Food Items Party

Calvin Harris isn't black...

Lastly, Bob might be one of the best music mixers that I know and I think that it is my moral obligation to share good music with the world, so I'll be rocking out to the last mix he made and I will also share it with the world. If you need epic-friendship-beats in your ears or an excuse to "get on the good foot", as my father would say, haha...here is a treat for your ears.  Bob's Mixtastic Mix. I named it that...for the record. :)

 Thanks, Mr.-Bob-Went-To-Night-Club!

Anywhere you are, and certainly abroad, your friends become your family. Family is what makes a place home. It doesn't matter about the distance between people or the length of friendship, family isn't something you decide, it's something that just happens. I was reminded last night of this fact and I know when it comes time for me to leave, it's the people here that I'm going to miss the most. 

Ah, holy shit. I grabbed my cell phone from my purse to charge and I had received this text. Talk about awesome timing...

5:10 

The things I will remember most from Thailand are my friends. Thank you for making my experience amazing. I will miss you until I see you again. - Bob

Here's to friendship. Cheers.

Repairing, reconnecting, and eek! - returning?

What I learned this week? Well, after an intense little trip down memory lane, I realized that I had some reaching out to do. What I found is that it's never to late to reach out, to repair, or to reconnect. We're always growing up. We're always learning from mistakes, but it doesn't matter how much time gets in the way...friendship feels a whole hell of a lot better than feuding and you never know what'll happen if you try to make amends, break the silence, or let someone know that you care about them. If you can think of anyone you've had to breach a silence gap with - a silence either intentionally positioned or covertly developing, you know that it can seem unconquerable. It's been too much time, right? Nay! People lose touch, life gets in the way, or friendships are abandoned over simple words and actions, but we are constantly faced with the option of changing that. We can let them wilt or we can revive them - backed by this little knowledge bomb -  

this world is filled with nothing but lessons and surprises; ya gotta keep on acting with your heart and believing in love, but when you do, you're giving the universe the chance to answer with beautiful possibilities. 

"Love is the passionate search for a truth other than your own; and once you feel it, honestly and completely, love is forever. Every act of love, every moment of the heart reaching out, is part of the universal good: it's a part of God, or what we call God, and it can never die." - Gregory David Roberts (Shantaram)

Unfortunately, all of this repairing and reconnecting has me in a little bit of a freaked out place.

I was running from a lot of stuff when I left America. I'm realizing that now. As of late, I've been reconnecting; I've been reaching out and I've been repairing. Now, I'm starting to wake up to the fact that a lot of the difficult times that I buried needn't remain as baggage. As I extend olive branches and attempt to reface "reality", I'm being surprised by the beautiful possibilities. I'll be real; digging up the past is uncomfortable. Dealing with emotions - yes, emotions - can be, well, emotional! And, I usually don't like it! However, I'm facing the fact that I'm going to be in America again in a little over a month and it's probably going to be emotional to the utmost extremes. I am over-the-moon excited to see my friends and family, but terrified of being caught in the war zone that is my parents ongoing divorce. Tip toeing around their baggage has never been an easy charade and I'm out of practice. Yet, that is what it is. I'm probably going to cry little tears of happiness when I see a lot of people, but I'm also going to be guarding myself from attachment. Hey, I'm only stopping through, right? It's a reunion tour and then on to the next stop, right? Does that mean that my friends will be guarding themselves from emotionally attaching to me? What if I can't see everyone I want to? What if I don't "fit in" anymore/what if I don't know how to fit in anymore? What if my life here makes me feel like some kind of alien in America? What if this weirdness keeps me from enjoying the time I have with people that I love? Or this mondo, all encompassing one -

What if I can't get home?

Mostly, I'm just scared of the uncomfortably of it all. I just have no idea what to expect. I mean, everything has changed for me in time that I've been in Phuket. My parents moved, separately, away from the town that I grew up in, my friends scattered all over the country, and I'm not the same person I was when I left. I guess that last part is a no-brainer, but this is where my head's at.

I want to say to myself, "breathe deeply."

The uncertainty of this world scares the shit out of most of us. Whether it involves moving around the world, moving back from around the world, going to a new city, starting a new job or degree program, building relationships, repairing relationships, or , oh yeah, loving in general, the uncertainty of this life has most of us back pedaling before we've started. I'm struggling with the unknown, but I'm making some baby steps. Well, and a couple of really big steps - with July 23rd looming in the future, it feels as though I'm being catapulted forward, mixed with, "you'd better be okay with it, sister, 'cause you've got a plane ticket bound for 'Merica next month!"

What it comes down to is that we never know what's waiting for us around the corner. We never know what is in store. Like I said, each of life's challenges presents us with the possibility of happiness and forgiveness - growth, beauty, and love. However, only by embracing uncertainty do you open the door to these possibilities. If every moment that we act in a loving way has the potential to change the course of our lives, alter our paths, and steer us toward a better, more loving way, then I say, reach out, repair, and reconnect. I'm scared and I don't always act maturely; sometimes it takes me AGES to mend bridges, and sometimes things happen that are out of my control, but when it comes to the way that I act, the way that I live, and the way that I embrace this changing, uncertain world, I have full reign to determine who I want to be. As I reflect on my attempts at reconnecting this week and my "stumbles down memory lane" in preparation for my arrival in America, I'm finding that -

You can't give up on love, because though people always leave - sometimes, they come back.

Marathon Madness and Shoulder Angels

A couple of months ago, during a 12k race, I had this little shoulder angel whispering little negative comments in my ear. "You can't do this; you aren't good enough..." it said. Periodically, I would let this little angel haunt my trainings, but I persevered none-the-less. And, guess what? I'm currently wrapped up in my robe, on my 6 or 7th episode of guilty-pleasure television, killed a container of peanut butter, and doing whatever else I want...

...because this girl just crushed 26 miles in her first ever MARATHON!

Yes, I did...and it was awesome. However, it was also one of the hardest and most painful activities I have ever done in my life. I still can't believe how miserable it truly was, but I am incredibly proud of myself for finishing.

This is the story -

The marathon itself was scheduled to start at 4:30 in the morning. (Since this is Phuket, Thailand, the weather is swelteringly hot as soon as the sun rises, therefore, the race had to be early.) I tried to get some sleep that night, but I definitely had pre-race jitters. Doubts and worries swirled in my head. This being my first big race, I didn't know what I was in for. Jason showed up at my house at 2 a.m. to drive to the resort hosting the event, which was about an hour away from us. Once we arrived, we oriented ourselves, did some stretching, and began warming up while runners from around the world started filing in. I kept saying to Jason, "It's four in the morning; this doesn't make any sense! Why are we doing this to ourselves?" We were having a good time, just joking around and feeling positive, despite the early morning.

We had our numbers, our race get ups, and our game faces as we entered the bull ring in front of the starting line. Over our heads, a giant timer counted down the last 2 minutes to 4:30, while the New Radicals song, "You Only Get What You Give", came on over the loud speakers. I couldn't help but smile. It felt huge being with all of these runners, from across the globe, getting ready to do something as big as a marathon. There was a feeling of camaraderie and excitement stirring in the crowd. Jason and I kept saying, "no worries, it's just a long run; we are just going on a long run." I was psyched.

Five seconds to go and we were bracing ourselves for a quick burst away from the group, so we'd have some running room. 5-4-3-2-1. The race had begun and people slowly started making moves. With so many people, the start of the race is more like a shuffle than anything else. We made it to the side of the mob and to some clear space. We were off.

The two of us were considerably relaxed. We set a good pace and settled into our run. I kept thinking, "I've been training for this. I can do this." It felt like a great start. However, about 3k into the race, something completely unforeseen started happening. I started feeling uncomfortable under my shorts. With every swish-swish of my shorts, my skin was feeling more and more sensitive. I realized I was beginning to chaff. 3k in! In my head, I panicked. Then, I thought, "well, I said that I'd do this, no matter what it takes. I'm probably going to be bleeding by the end of this, but it is what it is; no turning back now." At about 4 kilometers in, Jason stopped to pee and said he'd catch up with me. That was the last time I saw Jason during the race. I don't know if it was the darkness or if we were just focused on our races and didn't notice the other one running, but that's when we lost each other. Our plan to run the race together was derailed and so, 4k into a 42k race, I was on my own. Chaffing and on my own.

Swish-swish-swish. By about 10k I looked down at my shorts and I noticed that they were changing color. I hadn't run in the shorts that much - only once before - because they were new and I had bought them specifically for the race. I wondered if maybe my sweat was effecting the dye. Swish-swish-swish.

I completed the first 12k in good time, I was feeling good and just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 16k or 10 miles in, I was rocking it. Up hills, down hills, past rubber tree plantations, and around rural farms. It was beautiful and I was keeping a good pace. Swish-swish-swish.

I started encouraging myself: "I'm over 1/3 of the way done. Soon it will be halfway, then, before I know it, I'll be finishing! Keep it up!" 18k. Swish-swish-swish. At this point I was definitely feeling the chaffing, but I was focused on my race, so I doing my best to keep from thinking about it. Swish. swish. swish.

At the 20k mark, I stopped to pee and when I did, that's when I realized how bad of a situation I was in. Blood was streaming down my legs. I realized that my shorts weren't turning color because of dye, they were turning color because I was bleeding from my hips and legs. The chaffing had gotten so bad, that I was a little shy of halfway through the race, but already in a lot of pain. I got angry with myself. Muttering, "rookie mistake...rookie mistake," as I charged towards the halfway check point. Completing half of a marathon felt awesome and it motivated me further. Despite the swish-swish chaffing, my body felt fine, so I pushed myself to keep going. "Can, can, can," I repeated to myself. "I can do this."

Between 20k and 30k I started slowing down, but I was desperately trying to stay positive. I wanted to keep my pace, but honestly, with the amount of pain I was experiencing, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what would make me feel better or what my body needed. I ended up putting my sweat band around my thigh and 2 sponges - that they give to runners to squeeze on themselves at rest stations - in the back of my shorts, attempting to alleviate the rubbing. Swish. Every step became brutal. Swish. Every movement was painful, but I thought, "I'm in so much pain, it doesn't really matter if I'm walking or running, so I might as well keep running." Swish. Swish. Swish.

The last 12 kilometers were the absolute hardest. (That's about 6 miles out of the 26 mile race.) As the track curved through the beautiful countryside, I was struggling to keep moving. By this point, my feet were feeling very swollen, my entire booty was chaffed (so terrible!), but I had to keep moving. I guess you get to a point where you realize you just have to finish it and that's all there is. There weren't any doubts or a shoulder angel's nay-saying comments filling my brain, it was all just, "keep going; keep moving."

At the 32k medical stand I stopped and grabbed some Vaseline, but it was too little, too late. The chaffing was unbelievable and had been bad since 10k into the race - what was a little bit of Vaseline going to accomplish at that point? Sadly, not much.

With six kilometers to go, I was a broken person. The pain was excruciating, my body was exhausted, and all I could think about was finishing. My mantra: just keep going. 4k - almost there. 3k - I'm so miserable. 2k - I'm so close. 1k - run!...RUN! Suddenly, I began to hear music in the distance. Then, the announcer's voice booming over the loudspeakers as competitors crossed the finish line. I couldn't believe it - I was almost there. I remember seeing the sign for 100 meters and I found myself unable to stop a grin from shooting across my face. Well, I was grinning and wincing - which equals a pretty screwed up face! "Run", I told myself. "Run!"

I made it around a wide corner and as if in a dream, the finish line came into view. It was unreal. As I was managing to hobble-run down the straight away, people lining the track cheered and waved. The thundering voice of the announcer was booming over the speakers, "Here she comes! Nicolaaaaaa Waltersssss! 23-years-old! From the USA! Whaaaaat aaaaaa finishhhhh!"

After running 42 kilometers or 26.2 miles, I crossed the finish line - completing my first marathon. I felt like a champion! Despite the pain and the brokenness, the struggles, the chaffing, and the exhaustion, I felt like a god damn champion. Hah!

Immediately, I was given some water and a medal for completing the race, but my thoughts were set on getting to the bathroom to clean myself up. I probably looked absolutely terrifying! Bloody, broken, and disgusting after the race of my life. It was pretty miserable, but I was elated to be done.

I found Jason once I had gotten myself together - we were both hobbling. After high fives and congratulations, we weren't really sure what to do with ourselves. I mean, what does your body need after going through something like that? We spent a little bit of time just being lost - kind of like being in a dream world. Finally, I started thinking more clearly. I changed into dry clothes, limped to the food tent, got some eats, and tried to relax despite the high energy event that was still bustling around me. It felt strange that it was over and I wondered if I was just supposed to leave and go about a normal day. It all felt surreal. Eventually, we hobbled back to our motorbikes to drive our broken selves home. Jason said to me, "This is what it is going to feel like to be old." Oh, geez!

So, that was that. My first marathon. I was probably in more pain than I have ever experienced and am still hurting a great deal, but through that eye opening experience, I realized, that, #1 - you need to wear clothes that are guaranteed NOT to chaff! Guaranteed! No way around it. #2 - A marathon isn't just a long run, it really is one of the most difficult things you can put your body through. But, #3, looking back, I never once doubted my ability to do it. I never thought I needed to stop or couldn't finish the race. Now that it is over, I feel really proud of my achievement. I didn't try to sabotage myself with self doubt or beat myself down with negativity. I believed in my abilities the whole time and you know what, I DID IT!

Sometimes we are our biggest critics, but sometimes we are our biggest fans. Learning how to believe in yourself is more than half of the battle and sometimes, when we are tested the most, we just have to put one foot in front of the other. Take that shoulder angel! Take that!

"Commitment" Isn't Such a Dirty Word

In 24 hours, I will have completed my first marathon. That seems like such a huge thing to say, but the reality is that I can't even wrap my mind around it! The words sound ridiculous coming out of my mouth. Nicola, a runner? Bah! No! Well, I have done some big runs in the last few weeks, but I feel like nothing can prepare me for what's about to go down at 4:30 in the morning...tomorrow morning. Sheesh! It's that soon??

On top of it all, in the last couple of weeks, it has been pouring with rain. It's been the kind of rainy season that makes you realize that you live in a developing nation. Picture this - driving to school on a motorbike, through 2 feet of water, gutters overflowing, the city flooding, and school still in session. I started to wonder, "what would it actually take to close schools in Thailand?" Apparently a raging river down the city roads is no reason to be alarmed.

Yet, despite the feeling that I need to turn my bungalow into an arc - hell, I have enough creatures here on the mountain (spiders, snakes, cats, horses, soi (road) dogs, and lizards) to make a pretty good Noah story, I have been running. I am aqualung!

Fortunately, like the end of any rain story, the sun has just come out and I'm hoping that the sunshine that has FINALLY graced Phuket with its presence since 7 a.m. this morning, will hang around for the next 24 hours, so that I might run 26 miles without the feeling that I'm in New Orleans.

You know, we never think we can do anything until we get out there and do it. I had never painted a mural before or run a marathon, but I finished my mural this week and tomorrow I'm running a marathon, so I don't know; I guess what it comes down to is that most of the time we just don't make the time. We are such capable beings. We have the ability to do so much more than we would have ourselves believe and I mean this in a physical and a mental way. It's all about making a commitment to something. Hah! Commitment? Holy shit, that's another word I try to omit from my vocabulary, but in this regard, maybe commitment isn't such a dirty word. Maybe commitment is what gets us over finish lines and surrounded by color.

Even if the rain comes back, even if my should angel turns saboteur, even if I'm crawling by the end of it, I'll be crossing that finish line. I know that this will leave me as broken person, but when I look at what I've accomplished and remember what I'm capable of, the words don't sound that ridiculous.