People sometimes think that when you live in paradise, how can you ever be unhappy? Paradise makes you happy. You don’t want for anything in the Caribbean. Nobody has problems here. This is, obvs, a misnomer.
Even before I moved here I figured that out. I could be unhappy pretty much anywhere in the world. So why not be unhappy in a beautiful place for a little while? It beats the cold winter nights spent desperately trying to sooth the aching in your joints and in your heart. And it beats driving rain that turns into slushy snow. It beats dark winter nights.
Last year I traded snow for sunshine.
I can’t say that I regret it.
It didn’t make me a new person. It didn’t suddenly fix the insomnia (okay, well, so jet lag did actually do this for a while but we’re right back at it now) or my wandering mind or the wanderlust in my blood. I will always want to chase the horizon. I knew that before I came here.
Last year I decided that the past twenty seven were my first three chapters. A bit of a mess if we’re honest but we can polish that up in revisions. Full of moments. Memories. An ordinary I know and love.
Moving was my inciting incident.
I didn’t come here necessarily to change. I’m noticing it all the same. In the firmer lines that make up the muscles in my legs. And in the darkening of my skin. In the lightening of my hair. Deep down inside of me. In the smile that winks back at me from the mirror more and more often because. I am happy.
And I’m becoming a newer, stronger (literally and figuratively), version of myself.