The Beach Cure
Love, or Lack thereof.
It’s been a rough few days leading up to this getaway. I’m not one for big sob stories, but, breakups suck. Regardless of the situation, the he said/she said, the mutual-ness, the “it’s for the best,” they still suck. And sometimes it’s hard to find a medicine to cure the heartache. It’s one of those “run it’s courses” diseases, that you just have sit back and wait it out.
I will admit, the sting is a little less when the available medicine is a beach vacation, planned months previously. You know what they say about God and timing, well, He had my back on this one. 100%.
In fact, this blog was already in the works, but nothing like this. Completely different name, different story to tell, different ideas.
But, I wanted to start fresh. Completely new. Completely me. No input from anyone else. No overthinking.
I woke up this morning to the sound of the ocean. Brewed myself a fresh cup of 100% Kona Coffee, fresh out of Hawaii, sent in a care package from my friend Amy last week.
So here I am drinking my dark roast, Hawaiian coffee, listening to the waves roar, with a picture perfect view. And I thought to myself, there’s no time to be sad. No time to be regretful.
It’s time to live. Freely. Fully. Completely.
This song I love has just been playing on repeat in my head over the last few days;
“I used to feel sorry for someone like me in a corner booth pretending to read on a Friday night, used to say it just ain’t right. How could anybody ever have any fun, without somebody, without someone, it never dawned on me, the possibility…and it’s not a bad thing.”
The possibility is so endless.
Every person has a different definition of success. To some people, success is all work related.
“I don’t live to work, I work to live.” A great friend recently told me this, and I thought it was so great.
My definition of success is achieved by relationship and value. Time management if you will. If I can successfully hold onto healthy relationships with family and friends, manage a healthy lifestyle at the gym, and find time to travel and experience new things, then I feel more than successful.
Sometimes it’s hard not to compare myself to others. Those my age who are married, who have kids, or who have found a very successful career path. But then I have to remind myself, some people are the triple whistling bottle rockets on the fourth of July, and some people are the punks that lit them. I’m the punk in that, I spread my love and encouragement to all of those around me. My fire fuels their drive to explode into their version of success.
And that, my friends, is pretty damn important.
Don’t be scared to be the punk.
Until next time…