Girl’s trip.  This year is was Belize.  No husband, no kids, no work, actual adult “me” time. It’s on these trips that I see myself again. Amusingly, I witness the unique quirks of me over and over without the distraction of kids or a husband…

In my mind’s eye, I am wonderful, flexible traveler. In reality, not so much – sensitive stomach, sleeplessness due to excitement, finicky eater…When I step back and really see it, it’s ridiculous.  The dichotomy of my hopeful mind’s eye (I am a world-class traveler, ready to win the Amazing Race!), and the starch truth of my behavior (porta-potties cause me to wince involuntarily.)  It is absurd.  This flexible person in my mind’s eye, well, she just doesn’t exist in reality. Do we all decide how we should be and quietly berate ourselves for not measuring up? The hum of disapproval vibrating in our minds.

I have discovered I am much happier when I operate in the world from the truth of my behavior. I am not a good traveler for all my so-called good intentions, and now, I travel prepared – stomach cures, sleeping pills and power bars. I am who I am and I will not be entering the Amazing Race, ever.

When I return from my girls’ trips, I feel softened and empowered. I only go now with one other girlfriend because, well, we’re selfish.  My girlfriend and I met in the first few weeks of college. We have always been mistaken for sisters as we look, dress and act similarly even to this day. We are so much alike, yet our life choices have lead us on very different paths. She is in international law and single. I am married, mother of two and working from my home…Yet we are still sisters. 

For about five days each year we live like sisters again…We giggle, gossip, tease, re-tell the same stories over and over again, shop, eat and drink too much, and listen to the new stories each has to tell.  We have tried to include others, but it doesn’t lead to good places.  The only men we talk to are named Hector and carry trays with umbrella drinks.  We have a fantastic time.

Even with our very different lives, we are able to support each other still. She helps me access my identity before the rest of life crowded in. She helps me play and frankly, stay young.

Several years ago she inspired me to get back into a bikini…I had not worn a bikini in maybe 10 years—I was a Mom, that time had past, my body wasn’t perfect. Again, I heard the hum of disapproval vibrating within. But I did it anyway, and you know what, I looked good.

I looked around the beach and everyone was in bikinis, with all their different bodies for the entire world to see. There were no perfect bodies. Even the sixteen year olds had cellulite. I didn’t have to be perfect. Finally, my mind’s eye had softened to embrace reality. The disapproving hum disappeared, only to be replaced by the crashing of waves and laughter of sisters.

It was just before midnight and I was driving home from the airport, alone.  As I pulled onto the deserted highway I looked at my gas gauge, two blocks full.  That’s strange I think, my husband always puts enough gas in the car if I am taking it to the airport.  It’s a brand new car, but he must know and I want to get home.  Five minutes later the low fuel light comes on and now there is half a block glowing on the gas gauge.

What???  First thought, perfect ending to my girls’ trip, are you kidding me?  There are no gas stations anywhere.  I am on a secluded highway with very few exits leading to nowhere.  Yep, raped on the last day of vacation, great.   I call my husband to yell at him, this has got to be someone else’s fault.

Through a confused and heated exchange, my husband guides me through complicated button pushing to discern I have 17 miles of gas left, yet 32 miles to my home.  Houston we have a problem. 

Ok, I’ll get off at the next major highway turn and hope there is a quick gas exit.  I am in the middle of nowhere.  Truckers flying by one after another. 13 miles of gas left, more yelling at my husband.

Finally I see an exit, there’s a Costco, home depot, but no gas station can I see.  Nine miles left, panic rising, I take the exit.

As I drive up to the exit ramp, I am freaking out, and then it hits me, Kelly, what the hell are you doing freaking yourself out?   You know you are divinely held, relax, call for Archangel Michael, relax, and through clenched teeth I say, I am fine.  Fake ‘til you make it is my motto…

Suddenly on the radio I here the words, “Have a little faith in Me,” over and over.  You know that John Hiatt song, which I don’t even like, but over and over I hear, “Have a little faith in me” and I am thinking relax, Kelly, it’s all ok.  Help please.  Where’s the help?

Just then a police car drives up next to me.  Thank you God!  I flag him down and we pull to the side of the road.  He comes over to tell me directions and although normally he would lead me there, he can’t just now as he has a prisoner with him…do you hear the chuckling God?

I have eight miles of gas left, the officer believes I should make it but he will have another squad car run the route just in case.  Great.

He walks back to his car and I think sarcastically, I love directions, I get lost in a paper sack.  Fan-friggin-tastic.  Pull it together Kelly, you’re held, remember you’re held.  I hear the music then, Latin music coming from the radio.  How did that happen?  I never touched the station.  And suddenly I’m laughing again; the Latin music is about the future.  Smiling, I feel comforted and drive on; it’s got to be just ahead.

Four miles later, on the right, just as he said, there was the gas station.  A SHELL station, I laugh again, I had been thinking about shells all day.  On the beach that morning, as I packed my bag, and most importantly as I dreamed of the future…another reminder.

I filled up with gas and got back onto the road.  I felt myself begin to panic with the ‘what if’s’ of worst-case scenario thinking – what could have happened.  Kelly, relax.  I laughed again and I was grateful.  These past twenty minutes have foreshadowed the future.  Yes, at times I will feel lost.  Worried I will run out of gas…but I have faith.  All matter of things will be well, I just have to remember I am divinely held and look for the help when I need it.  So be it!

For several days upon return from vacation I feel slightly brain damaged.  Possibly like I began the day with a martini or two before breakfast.  The light hurts and I would like to snooze all day – could I be a vampire?  Are those bit marks on my neck?  No. Just the press of a harried life barging back into my sun-soaked, easy thoughts of, “shall I eat by the pool or at the café?” 

 Ah, I smile and am reminded how very blessed I am.  Though addled and blurred, I am happy.  I love slipping into a different experience – hopping on a plane and going somewhere new in just a few short hours.  It reminds me how much bigger the world is… 

 Sometimes, in the slog of daily life, I can get fixated on a narrow viewpoint.  I may only see a few options for the direction of my life, but when go on vacation – suddenly the world opens more fully.  Two things happen – 1. I appreciate more what I have already, and 2. I expand to see more. 

 This blurry feeling allows me the space to integrate this expansion back into my daily life.  Life is fuller.  It is more then, “what’s for supper?” and paying bills.  It is this AND that.  It is adventure AND the dull grind of daily life with laundry, meals, etc.  It is life, up and down, blurry sometimes and clear at other moments.  So I wait for the blurring to pass, and clarity to rise again. 

 Are you waiting for the blurring to pass as well or have you found clarity?  

I’ve never been to Vegas, so when my annual college girls’ trip came round this year it seemed like a great idea.  Stay in a swank hotel, see a show, excellent spas and pools, have some laughs – all good and innocent…Well, my girlfriend called two days ago with the news that her college boyfriend is headed to Vegas for his Stag party…

 Let me describe her college boyfriend – think English and looks like Ichabod Crane.  I am not kidding.  He is a fantastic fellow, I rarely stopped giggling around him.  I have memories of him sitting on the couch in his boxers, next to my boyfriend, also in boxers – playing N0-friend-o (Nintendo) for hours…what a pair.

 Needless to I expect to come home in five days with aching ribs from giggling at a merry band of pasty and slightly bloated Englishmen doing there very best impressions of “I’m too sexy for this shirt, too sexy for this shirt…and I do a little spin on the catwalk”…Viva Las Vegas…

In January I begin dreaming of the beach and my annual girl’s trip.  For years my favorite college friend and I escape to somewhere warm. Last year we went to Mexico - no husband, no kids, actual adult “me” time.  Often, I’ve discovered, during these annual trips, I see myself again.  Amusingly, I witness the quirks of Kelly Ellen.

In my mind, I wish to be a wonderful, flexible traveler.  In reality, not so much.  Sensitive stomach, sleeplessness due to excitement, finicky eater.  When I step back and really see it, it’s ridiculous.  Almost every time I come home with a cold.  Pathetic.  And I giggle.

It is a funny thing indeed to witness the dichotomy of my hopeful mind’s eye, and the starch truth of my behavior.  This flexible person in my mind’s eye, just doesn’t exist in reality.   Do we all decide how we should be and quietly berate ourselves for not measuring up?  The hum of disapproval vibrating in our minds.

I am truly so much happier when I operate in the world from the truth of my behavior.  I am not a good traveler for all my so called good intentions, and now, I travel prepared – stomach cures, sleeping pills and power bars.  I am who I am.

I always return from these trips softened and empowered.   My friend and I met in the first few weeks of my freshman year at college.  We have always been mistaken for sisters as we look, dress and act similarly even to this day.  We are so much alike, yet our life choices have lead us on very different paths.  She is in international law and single.  I am married, mother of two and working from my home.

It is in these very differences that we are able to support each other.  She helps me access my identity before the rest of life crowded in.  She helps me play and frankly, stay young.

I brought 3 bikinis with me on our last trip.  I had not worn a bikini in maybe 8 years—I was a Mom, that time had past, my body wasn’t perfect.  Again, I heard the hum of disapproval vibrating within.  But I did it anyway, and you know what, I looked good.

I looked around the beach and everyone was in bikinis, with all their different bodies for the entire world to see.  There were no perfect bodies.  Even the sixteen year olds had cellulite.  I didn’t have to be perfect.  Finally, my mind’s eye had softened to embrace reality.  The disapproving hum disappeared, only to be replaced by the crashing of waves and laughter of sisters…