It’s not often that I have a hard time putting my thoughts and feelings on paper or in this case on a screen, however, here I am, having difficulty articulating exactly how I feel in this moment.

Is it possible to be completely ecstatic yet have a tinge of disappointment?

A week ago, I had a great guy that I really liked and thought things were going in a fun, positive direction. Yet, last Monday, we parted ways to run our errands and whatnot and things have never been the same since.  That same Monday, I got my letter from South Carolina Real Estate Commission to ‘pass go’ and go straight to the SC Real Estate Law Exam. No need wasting time and money on a course. YAS! I also got a voicemail from the Lead Flight Attendant from a private jet charter company wanting to set up a FaceTime interview for Tuesday for an opening that another Flight Attendant put my name in the hat for. Tuesday comes around. Nail the interview. Get a message later about a second FaceTime interview for Wednesday with the COO. Wednesday was the biggest day of my week. Interview at 11am. Job offer at 3:40pm. Just like that I had landed my dream job of a Contract Flight Attendant on private jets and put in my two day notice at work. I was told I was flying down to Florida on Saturday making Friday my last day of working in Food and Beverage. Throughout this week, Boy and I just texted however the texts were fewer, far between, less flirty and my desire to see him was unmatched. Thursday I had a moment of actually breathing when he apologized for ‘being short and absent’. It had been a hell week like he expected and it had nothing to do with me but ‘thank you for being understanding and patient’.

Here I am, trying to go Day 2 of not contacting him. I showed my ass a little bit while celebrating on Friday, the night before my new big adventure and my last night at the restaurant. My drunk alter-ego, Cecilia, came out and she does not play nice. She popped in on him at his restaurant. He promised he’d meet up with us. Well, he didn’t. Therefore, Cecilia sent at least a dozen messages and called at least a half dozen times. (What the actual fuck, girl?!) BUT. I left my car parked by his restaurant. He was still there. He knew I was calling. He read the texts. And nothing.

Saturday morning before hopping on my plane down to PBI, I texted him teasing about how we’d both seen each other blacked out now and next time I’m that hammered, I should just throw my phone in the Ashley River. Not even a ‘no worries’ or ‘lol’ text. *tap tap tap* IS THIS THING ON?!

Now, I’m sitting in my hotel room in West Palm Beach. My old stomping ground.

Saturday, as soon as I got into town and into my rental car, I headed to Publix for some snacks for the room for the week. Without thinking about it, I pulled right up to my childhood home. It was still yellow. The trees were a little bigger. The carport had been enclosed but it was still my house right across the street from my elementary school. The home that took care of me and mom. Under layers of paint in the back bedroom, there will be some of my Crayola art circa 1987.

I called up my bio-Dad for dinner. ‘Come to BoneFish Mac’s’, he says. Alright. I walk in and the biggest pearly whites are staring back at me. My dang brother had driven down from Orlando to surprise me. This is huge! The three of us had not spent time together since I still believed in Santa. We picked up right where we left off. Diddy told stories that were mostly jokes. Wade and I mostly just tried not to fall off our bar stools from laughing so hard. My heart felt so full that afternoon.

Sunday, yesterday,  I had my first day of training with my new company. I was a mix between a ball of nerves and ‘fuck yeah, this is what I’m made for’. As I got back to my hotel room, I sat down to study for my real estate exam yet heard the beach calling and, well, that’s just where I went. Like driving to my old house, I went straight to my and mom’s beach. The small concrete steps over the knoll to the sand were still there now just surrounded by new mansions. The second I reached the top and could see the blues of the ocean and the golden sand with the smell of the dried seaweed, I had a meltdown. It had been awhile but this one was different. Just like the conflicting feelings of accomplishment and disappointment, here I was feeling proud and dismal. As I put my towel down and greeted the small rolling waves that washed over my feet, I wanted nothing more than to be there with my mom. I wanted her there to ask me the important questions (how often will you get paid? will you get benefits?) and the nagging questions (do you get a buddy pass? what was your dinner like with Penny?). I wanted her advice on Boy. I wanted to hug her and just sit beside of her looking in the same direction. I wanted to hear her tell me how proud she is of me and how much she loves me. I did the next best thing. I turned on Fleetwood Mac radio and pretended. I spoke out loud about the things that scared me, excited me, and concerned me. I sat there for roughly two hours and then thought, where else would my mom go. A-ha, Sailfish Marina.

My mom had opened a children’s store named Panda’s on Singer Island when I was a toddler. A few times, after locking up to go home, we would go to Sailfish Marina to check out the fish from the floating, glowing dock and so mom could have her post-work Ketel-water-lime. The bar had endured several face lifts but still held the same magic. I snagged a four-top table outside, surely to piss of the server as I was rolling solo, and ordered a Corona Light and a bowl of conch chowder. I daydreamed of the boats docked there that I’ll never be able to afford and of waiting for the sunset to see the dock light up and the fish. Sadly, I didn’t wait but the sentiment was there. Honestly, after training, sweating, and a day at the beach, I had begun to smell like a baby oil’d up wet puppy and it was time for a bubble bath and rosé.

I slept well last night. I didn’t dream of my mom like I have before when I’ve had a big ‘mom day’ but the sleep was worth it. It actually felt like rest instead of having my eyes shut for seven hours.

Today, after a short day of training, I met with my college best friend and her almost four year old daughter. The last time I saw her and her daughter, the little one was just a blob that didn’t talk. This time, we colored and talked princesses. She loves pink. Like me. A little girl after my own heart! My bestest and I caught up, like me, my bio-dad, and brother, like we hadn’t missed a beat. It’s interesting how life turns out. She finished her degree in Social Work. Married a lawyer. Bought a house.Stay at home mom with one kid and another on the way. Our lives couldn’t be any more opposite but our love and support for each other and our families has remained unwavered.

While reflecting on the last few days, I guess typing everything out has made everything a little more clear. People step out of your life because you’re just too big for them. Perhaps they see something you don’t at the time and they’re making room for you to grow into your next best self. Am I sad that I don’t have someone to share this success with? Do I wish I had someone to pick up a souvenir for when I go to a new destination? Would I love to have that special someone that makes me excited to take that return flight home? Does a crack baby shake? Fuck yes!

But now more than ever, I need to love myself more than the desire to love someone else.  I have to trust my gut and be my own biggest fan. I need to be so confident in my choices that people view me as cocky. This is what I’ve worked for. This is what I’ve dreamt of. The glow up is real AF.