becoming ready



And just like that, I'm back in the good ol' US of A.

Rockin, CA.

wooh.
 

A good friend sent me a few pictures from my unofficial "going away party"

(unofficial because it wasn't actually a party for me but we totally made it so)

and I was flooded with so many feels.


 

In a way, I'm grieving.

Actually, not "in a way",

I'm thoroughly grieving.

I'm grieving the loss of big love;
the death of an era.

 

Friends that became family,

a language by which my heart was won,

star-filled nights guided by rhythm,

a culture that lives fully and relationally,

and an adventure that is always developing into something truly great.

Experts in psychology say that there are five steps of grief that lead to final acceptance:
 

1. Denial

2. Anger

3. Bargaining

4. Depression

5. Acceptance 

I have moved passed the denial stage.
I was completely and utterly in denial for a few days.
"I'm just on vacation.. to the US.. from Mexico. I'll be home soon."
I now realize now that unfortunately, this is not the case.

At the moment, I'm knee deep in the anger phase.
Actually, I'm way more than knee deep,
I'm drowning.
I hung up from a Skype conversation with a friend named Daniel down in Guadalajara yesterday and instead of feeling sadness, I was overcome with a rage-like sensation.
I physically felt my muscles tighten up and as I leaned back and ran my fingers through my hair, I could feel blood pulsing through my brain as the pressure built and built to a mental explosion of exasperation.

vnfuiqegnrivenuvneiuvnoiffff.

I am mad that he is there,
and I am here.

I am mad that I am not there and that he is not here,
that none of my absolutely incredible friends are here,
and that I am not with them.

I'm in Rocklin.
Pinche Rocklkin.

Anger is not healthy, and I would like to move past it.
In a way, I think I have.
I have, at least in a small manner, began to bargain.

I find myself scouting plane tickets and planning trips with friends that will never happen.
I'm wishfully spitballing ideas by people
"what if....."
when I know that there is little chance of any of these dreams becoming a reality.
But that's often how it is with dreams.
I guess that's what makes a dream a dream.
I will continue to hope.

Part of me wants to power through these steps and be fine.
My brain keeps telling me
"Come on Kayla, just rub some dirt in it and move on."

But I don't want to move on.
As soon as I've moved on, that will mean that I have forgotten, in small part, how my heart feels right now.
Ya know what, I don't want to forget.
I'm okay with living into this sadness, this anger, and whatever else is to come because that means that I am living into something.

I'm letting my heart feel,
hurt,
greive,
and be chipped away at bitby bit.

I'm letting myself be remolded, once again, into a fuller person.
I'm taking all of my love and all of the ache that accompanies it and letting it wreck me because that's what this chica needs right now.

I am emotionally beat,
but I really think that's a good thing.
It's a process.
A painful, brutal, knowing and all together shitty process.

My heart is still in Mexico, but it's working on finding a home.
I doubt that Rocklin will ever be that place, but I'll find it someday.
Or rather, my heart will find it and the rest of me will follow.

Te seguiré, mi pequeño corazón roto.
I'm becoming ready.