Hopping off the Bus
I sat on the sand next to Sean and told him a long and drawn out story about why I was going to stay on the bus with him for the next four months.
I had just gotten back from ten days in St. Lucia and we hadn’t spoken since before i’d left.
I also hadn’t spoken with anyone other than my family whom I was on vacation with. I’d logged off of social media and had actually turned my phone off for the entire trip.
I was searching for clarity, which I never found.
I knew what was best for me. But I allowed myself to disengage from that knowing, and rather I created a long and very drawn out story about why I was going to stay on the bus for the next four months with Sean.
I felt the warm morning sun on my face and heard the ocean fifty yards away.
And as I finished speaking, he looked me in the eyes and basically said “Bull Shit.”
We had the type of relationship where that was necessary.
We had the type of friendship where we’d text each other at the same time, all of the time.
We had the type of friendship where we were the clearest mirrors for one another, which forced us to be seen from the inside out.
We had the type of friendship where we could spend an entire day together and lose track of time talking about absolutely everything or absolutely nothing, and seemingly never get bored with just simply speaking.
We had the type of friendship where if we created a long and drawn out story about why we were going to do something, and if it was completely for the wrong reasons, the other one knew it, and we called each other out on it.
So when Sean called my bluff, as I sat on the beach letting sand fall between my finger tips, my eyes looking down, ashamed of being unable to speak my truth, I knew he was right.
“Leaving the bus is for your highest good.”
I knew it was.
But I didn’t want to “be a quitter.”
I wanted to finish what I/we had started.
Something I haven’t yet mentioned…
We also had the kind of friendship that sometimes felt like it could, should or one day would be more than just a friendship.
But that was something only I felt.
I had to leave the bus.
Because it was for my highest good.
Four months later, I must admit that it was for my highest good.
As much as I tried to tell a long and drawn out story about why I was going stay on the bus with Sean for the next four months, it was not the place for me to stay.
Four months later, I must admit that “Bull Shit” was exactly what I needed to hear as I sat in the sand attempting to tell a long and drawn out story about why I was going to stay on the bus.
I cried as I leaned into the person who was the clearest mirror for me, who often times seemed as though could read my mind better than I could, and I eventually realized that I was not a quitter…
I was a fighter.
And I was gaining alignment like i’d never had before.