It's New Year's Day in Kaua'i. A gorgeous sun-soaked day, about 80 degrees. I'm in Eleele with my parents where we're about to hop aboard a catamaran and sail along the Nā Pali Coast. I'm dressed in a black tank top and aqua colored shorts and wearing flip-flops. My Dad convinces me to walk to a beach park about a 1/2 mile up the road from the port. It's a great spot for a picnic, to collect rocks that look like pieces of polished glass and to watch the most beautiful blue water come crashing to the shoreline. I step onto the sand and gaze out into the ocean. I give my lungs a hearty inhale of salty air, just as I had been doing whenever I encountered the water during my stay, to remind myself to stay in the moment. Exhale. I step to the right, onto a medium sized black rock that's somewhat buried in the sand. I feel my toes lose their grip. I lose my balance and land on my right knee... HARD. Dad asks if I'm okay and checks to see if anything is broken. "Nope, I'm good." I get up, dust myself off and let out a few under-my-breath chuckles in between the stinging zings of my new flesh wound. We continued our walk up the road to a higher vantage point and I try to distract myself from the pain by soaking in the energy from the pounding waves. We quickly recognize the time and walk back to the port to gather my Mom and head over to the boat. I'm smiling and in a fit of quiet chuckles again. Smh.
Right at the moment I stepped onto that rock, my mind had shifted to a different headspace. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the brilliant view in front of me. I was thinking of my recent past and all the dark moments when I thought I wasn't going to make it. The nasty put-downs I kept saying to myself. The morning anxiety attacks that had me screaming in pain. The months of sleeping on the floor in puddles of tears. The endless hours of browsing for answers on what went wrong. My fall happened for a good reason. It's now crystal clear to me to let that shit go. I've held onto it long enough. My knee is mostly healed, and the scars left behind remind me to keep moving forward. Get outta that revolving door of pain called the past.
Oh, and why is it when you fall down, it's all in slow motion? What are you wanting to let go of? Tell me in the comment box below. Thanks for reading and commenting.
(Disclaimer: No alcohol was consumed at least one hour prior of this incident.)
