Post cruise ramblings…

A cruise is an odd thing, especially for me. David and I don’t drink and don’t gamble, so we’re out of place among many if not most of the adults who come on a cruise with those things in mind. And we don’t cruise to the Caribbean to go to the beach, having a home just a couple miles from some of the nicest beaches in the world (which we also rarely go to, but love them when we do). But anyhow, to me, a cruise is an odd mix of activity – in the form of the shore excursions, too many people, and the ocean – which is perhaps my personal main reason for loving cruising.
After my first cruise in a balcony stateroom, I cannot imagine cruising any other way. Yes, it means we go less often, because it is more expensive, but sitting out on the balcony – especially early morning – when it is just me and the sea, is the best time I have found for reflection. And I did a lot of that on this trip. And it was perhaps both good and bad. Or more, both bad and good. I am still in the confusion stage of realizing that perhaps my lifelong dream(s) is/are just beyond me, and still alternating between frustration, resignation and perhaps beginning to realize that it might be okay. I am who I am, and maybe reaching too high was just a step in realizing that I can be okay with not getting there – at least mostly.
But in looking back at the last three years, when I claimed to be (at least trying to be) coming out of my “shell in a hole in a tunnel under dark clouds”, I have realized I was happiest when I was closest to being me, and pardon the expression, but, “and damn the consequences.” This is not to say that I don’t care about the responses of others to who I am, but more to say that I have spent my whole life caring too much. Papi Julio Varela, who I love dearly, and consider one of the most special people I have ever known, tells me I should just be myself. And he has said, and many others have said, that I should not try so hard. But I am not sure that they understand that my “trying so hard” is not when I’m excessive and over the top, but in fact rather when I’m less so. I think the person inside me desires really to be just a gushy explosion of love. I am happiest when I am fussing over, loving, hugging, just expressing in every way I know how just how much people mean to me.
If I had all the wealth I can imagine, I might not have a dime. Rather, I would have people. People are more valuable to me than all the other treasures of the earth. I know that I get looked at oddly when I tell someone I have missed them, when it has only been a few days since I last saw them. But the truth is likely that when I did see them it brought me so much joy, that now I cannot help but miss… I have spent so much of my life devoid of that particular joy. Forgive me if I perhaps hunger for it, now that I have tasted life’s sweetest ambrosia, that to me is sharing time with people you love.
But fear has been my most constant companion. Fear that has been born out by losing one after another after another of people who were dear to me. Losing them because they were scared off by my excessiveness, by my intensity, by my gushiness. But some of the people I love most now have told me that the people you need most in your life are those who will stay. And even though historically that has not seemed to be the case, maybe I need to believe it true, regardless. For certainly it has hurt me more in having spent all those years afraid to be me. And admittedly afraid still, even now realizing that “me” is a perfectly good thing to be. So perhaps it is time not to “try so hard” – gulp – and just let me be me in all my overly-gushy glory? I’m not even sure I know how to let myself do that. But I do know that I am happier when I do.
I just cannot understand really, how everyone does not feel how I do. People are the most wonderful treasures. I love so many people so much it just brings tears to my eyes even thinking about them. And that is when my life is best, when my heart is closest to all of those who fill it.

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