how did I get here?? (running away)

I always thought maybe I was born in the wrong era. Possibly I was just born in the wrong location.  I love it here!  My heart is so full of joy, and peace, I don't know how to absorb it all; the colors, sounds, breezes, waves, fresh foods, kind people.

our little yard

I love having a hammock outside under the trees and stars. I love hanging clothes on the line, in the soft, warm breeze.  I love walking to the market and coming back with my backpack full of fresh milk, bread, fruit.  I love being able to walk everywhere I need.  I love that all the houses collect rain water, down gutters and rain pipes, into tanks, and store the warm rain to use for bathing or laundry.  I love that everyone here genuinely smiles- maybe because they are barefoot, or they have no enemies, or maybe because many of them smoke a little, or they just get the deeper meaning of life.

A handful of weeks ago, I was a single mom on food stamps, with a part time job, who just discovered unemployment ended several months early.  I had mortgage, a car, and an ex who had bailed earlier in the year, after taking money out of the account and leaving us hanging the day before mortgage was due.  

We were relieved he was gone, but not sure how to make it work.  My spouse had been getting meaner and more abusive for months.   The first time ever, I confided in my parents about what was going on, and asked for a safe place for us to stay.  I have not stayed there in about 20 years, I do not ask for help.  But since their grandson was in danger, I asked for help.  They asked if it was important.  I said "We are scared."  They couldn't be bothered.  I confided in two other people as well, one didn't believe me, the other betrayed me.

What do you do?

My son and I decided to rent out our house, store the things that were important or irreplaceable to us, and sell the rest, to downsize.  We were laying on the carpet together, crying, grasping for a plan.  We cried about losing our home of almost ten years, the only home with me he remembers.  I felt like a failure.  How do you box up a decade of memories and tell each other it's going to be ok?

He had a great idea, one I would have never considered.  He asked if we could go on vacation, so packing would seem more... fun... somehow.  An adventure.  He said it with such young earnestness. I wanted to believe it would work.  An adventure.  Yes, that seemed better than laying on the floor crying without a plan and nowhere to go.  I told him we would have to sell more stuff, to afford that kind of trip.  He said it's just stuff.  

little gecko in laundry room (actual size)

Before I realized what was happening, my son had already asked our friend to go with us to keep us safe, on an adventure.  The same friend who was a hero to us because just a week prior, protected both of us from violent spouse, who had come back to harrass me. Our friend told him, "If you EVER touch her again, I will kill you."  And that's the last I ever saw of him.  
So an adventure seemed good.  What do we have to lose, right?

But-- two weeks to pack, sell stuff, store stuff, and get ready for a trip was NOT enough time.  I don't recommend that.  Ever.  I don't have regrets about going and the adventures I've had with my son, but this is a bad idea, planning something this big when you are an emotional wreck.  

Day two of the adventure, we met a lady who was moving out of a 2 bedroom appt right on the beach- $500 a month.  Compared to the price of hotel... hmm.  That meant our money would go a little further...  hmmm.

Looking back, there isn't much "stuff" that I miss.  I haven't driven a car in weeks.  Or used a microwave, vacuum, bathroom scale, full length mirror, dvd player, clothes dryer, tv, or iron either. I haven't eaten any fast food.  I don't wear makeup (ok, I didn't really do that in the US either)  

mango trees

I listen to live music every day.  All the windows are open, all the time.  I have a choice of three hammocks to swing in, right here at the house.  I go to the beach almost every day. I am fortunate, and have prospects for a job too, which is very rare here.  Someone smiles at me and looks me in the eye every day.  

I am starting to feel alive, really alive.  I am beginning to be filled with love; love for this peaceful place, love for the people here, love for humanity.  I am starting to feel less broken and more whole.  This is good.

all options make me a bad mom?

On another note. I'm getting a lot of shit from people, telling me I am a bad mom, for letting S go back without me, and for bringing him with me in the first place, and for staying here without him. (apparently every option makes me a bad mom).

But surprisingly, nobody has asked what's going on, what led up to this, what we are going through.  No questions, just judgment. Every decision I make is with him in mind, and is made WITH him (even though I am the mom, I deeply love him, care about his thoughts, and we discuss everything).

Stealing him forever, keeping him away from other people who love him would make me a bad mom. We just wanted a few weeks. But the more people judged and told me what I "should" be doing... the more I wanted to stay.  These aren't people who love us. Leaving without telling him anything, would make me a bad mom. Staying and being too scared to to take an opportunity to try something wonderful and new, that would make me a bad mom.

Maybe I can have a meltdown here and not worry he will see it, since I have tried to be strong for him. For now I can heal and recover for a bit, not let him see me be in pain, scared, small and confused (that's how I feel today).

Maybe he will respect that I didn't lay down and die, everything that has happened, but chose something different. Or maybe he'll think I chickened out when things got rough and I wanted to run away. But we did it together, and had the best trip ever!!

Hopefully he has listened to my heart, as I have listened to his. And in the end, he knows I love him more than life itself. That's what really matters.

And when it was time for him to go back home, I was packing also. He put his hand on mine, looked at me for a long time and said, "Mom.  Not yet.  Don't come back yet.  I'm not ready to watch you die.  You need a little more time before you go back".   And we laid together and cried, at this world that doesn't seem fair.  Maybe he's the only one who really knows me...  And that's enough for me.

random thoughts and foods

Woo! Think I missed a day. I was coming down with a cold or heart sadness, and took ativan Sunday night cuz I was mopey, missing my kiddo. I slept most of the day yesterday!! I must have needed it, but even with the phone on my tummy, I missed S email about skype :(

Funny things here. How does sand get all the way upstairs? It's not soft powdery sand either, it's rough and course like brown sugar. It makes me giggle to sit on the edge of the bed and wipe my feet off before I lay down. It gets in the bed anyway... and at any other time in my life, I would run screaming with frustration. But now?

Tmi, but also funny; the other day we had been swimming, and I came home to shower. My swim suit top was full of sand and seaweed. Gross! But if done right, you could charge for that in a day spa, exfoliating seaweed treatment...

Oatmeal, brought to you by Behr

And the cream!  We bought a pint of fresh cream to put in coffee.  It's so thick it squeezes out like toothpaste.  And now we joke about whether we want a slice of cream in the coffee. 

This is a can of oatmeal.  It looks just like a quart of paint.  Had to pry the lid off with the other end of a can opener.  Surprise-  another layer!  No pull tab either.  What's the trick?  I stabbed it with a knife, then carved the foil part out.  

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday I saw donuts at the market. Fresh glazed donuts!! Yum!  But then I saw the price- $24 for a dozen.  So no donuts for me :(  Prices here are a good diet plan for me.  Everything fresh and natural is very affordable; everything processed is expensive.  So ta-da!  I'm eating well.

teeter-totters and cheshire cat grins

I don't even know where to start today with words. I slept until noon, because I was awake until 4 am again. It's so peaceful after midnight here. That's when the life and music stops for the day and everyone else goes to sleep. I woke at 6am to the sound of rain, it comes down fast and hard and sounds like torrential drumming on the metal roof. By the time I got all the windows closed, it had stopped. I stood on the front porch watching the sky get lighter and debated staying up to experience my first sunrise in paradise. I woke S to see if he wanted to watch it with me, he didn't. So I crawled back in with him and we slept.

They know us at the market now, which makes it more fun to go. We were looking for chicken broth (nope) or bouillon without msg (nope). We found a pack that looked promising, no msg (which now I can identify 20 dif names for msg in 5 dif languages). So this packet, no msg, but I couldn't translate the other ingredients. Turns out it was ground cinnamon. Oh the ladies laughed! Good thing we didn't put that in chicken soup.  FYI- when you buy a whole cut up chicken here, it includes the feet. Both of them. Ew!

We ate gelato, and talked with Rasta Carl, who was so excited to see us that he kissed my cheek. We laughed when S blurted out, "well that is mom's first kiss here!" So Carl kissed my cheek again, then tried to kiss S's cheek too, all in fun. We played at the park, and you haven't seen anything until you see a kid and a handsome Caribbean guy with long dreds, on a teeter-totter. They were both laughing, and dreds were flailing, and half the time, one of them was a bit air-born. Why aren't there teeter-totters in US?

I can't decide if I like the beach better during the day (sun) or at night (moonlight). This is the second time it has been clear enough to see the moon. And we all leaned our heads to the left in unison, as we realized the moon here is sideways. The phases here go up and down, but in US they go left to right. So only the bottom half of the moon was lit, like a big cheshire cat grin!

deep thoughts about grown ups from S

 

Yesterday we shared a pizza by the beach, sat on the shaded porch, and colored.  S observed, "Grown ups don't color enough. It's fun.  They don't smile much either."  I agreed, and said, "very true.  please pass the green!"

 

You can just see the ocean through the coconut trees, from the pizza place, on the sidewalk, by the beach.  

I accidentally ordered pineapple, mushroom, and green olive pizza (I wanted black olive).  It was surprisingly tasty!!

 

 

Then Rasta Carl sat with us for a bit, and explained the history of Rasta (from Africa) and Garifunas, and what their colors mean. 

The Rasta colors are red yellow black green, the African flag colors.  Red= blood shed by the slaves.   Yellow= stolen gold, greed.   Green= earth, land.  Black= people's struggles.

The Garifuna colors- Yellow= hope, liberation.  White= peace, freedom.  Black= death and suffering of slaves.  I never knew there was a meaning behind the colors.  I might consider wearing them now.

We gathered flowers on the way back to the little house;  I try not to pick them if they aren't in our yard, so mostly I just find them on the sand.  S says I need a bumper sticker on my butt, "warning!! stops suddenly for flowers!"

It's true. 

This is what I drew by the beach today...

 

i want to go to school too!

Today we visited the school, met the art teacher and the principal Stephen.  What a happy place!  The rooms are completely open, with open windows on two full walls, for cross breezes.   It was sunny in the classrooms!  You could see coconut trees, and ocean from the desks!  (as opposed to jail cell flourescent lit rooms in the US) 

Kids wandered in and out of the principal's office, one laid her head on his shoulder, he patted another affectionately on the head, a third, fourth, fifth came in, just to see him.  He was delighted to see each and every one of them; and he apologized for being rude to us, his guests (while he admired their drawings and spelling words, just like a proud parent).   Can you believe it?  

From what I could gather, their curriculum is more rigorous then in the US, yet it felt like such a delightfully happy place to be, teachers and kids and all!  Heck, I want to go to school too now!

how many of you are happy?

I haven't written in a couple days because I'm upset.
Quick poll, show of hands. How many of you are happy? I mean really, truly, deeply content, peaceful, at ease? (I suspect there aren't many). On the other hand, how many of you are barely "alive", just going through the motions, trying to get by, waiting for who knows what, so then you can be happy? How many of you have a happy list, a list of things that make you happy, then do it?

This trip is on my happy list- my bucket list (which isn't long, because I've already accomplished most everything on my list, I don't ask for much.) I have wanted to travel to a Spanish speaking country since I was about 15. I was president of the Spanish club in HS and helped raise money so others could go. If I had been able to study abroad, just one semester, in college, I had enough credits to major in Spanish. Turns out there are also beaches and ocean here, which is just a big bonus to me!! (cuz we all know how much I hate to swim!)

Everyone is divided about this trip. Some of you say, "Yaaay girl! What an opportunity! You have worked hard your whole life, had a rough couple of years; go have fun with your son for a few weeks!" And then the rest of you think I've lost my mind, been abducted by aliens, kidnapped, or worse. Some of you are treating me like an irresponsible, disobedient little girl. I am surprised and saddened that some of the people who should know me the best are upset with me now, and some of them haven't even asked if we are having the best time of our lives, if we laugh every day (yes, belly laugh- every day!) They don't ask if we sat on the beach and colored, or if we read stories to each other at night, or if we swing in the hammock together and listen to music, or what we have learned every day.

They don't seem to care if this is a time for me to heal, repair from the end of a bad marriage, find meaning in life, and start over with a fresh look? (oh yeah, and have a freaking awesome vacation with my favorite person in the whole world- my offsping, to boot!) We sold our piano to come here- for crikey's sakes, let us have another week without guilt before we come back?

Why does this trip make those of you feel threatened? What are you afraid of for us? (by the way, google it- it's safer here than in any place in the US). Is it because you are used to controlling me? Or used to me being very boring, predictable, (and very sad?) Are you afraid because we are doing something awesome and you haven't? Are you worried that we won't come back (well, we do love the ocean, and markets, and fresh air, and no tv, and so much learning... who wouldn't!)

I want to slap some of you and thank you for trying to ruin our trip. But on the other hand, it probably wouldn't help, cuz you don't listen to me anyway.
Sigh :(