Yesterday I Was Happy, Today I Am Successful
Every so often I give myself a hard time. I make myself feel bad about not developing enough sellable skills that will make me more successful in the eyes of capitalism or spending all my money on plane tickets. Or I beat myself up about not having a 401k, a Master’s degree, or an age-appropriate wardrobe.
But today - today I feel successful. Let me tell you why.
After walking an hour towards a secret beach, I had to turn around and walk back in the same direction. The final twenty minutes of the journey happened to be alongside a swampy river I deemed “Crocodile Soup River” for its ominous overgrowth and precarious nature - and I just didn’t feel safe enough to venture onward. When I finally reached the main pathway to Quepos, a no-frills working-class city outside of the touristic zone and national park, I decided to take a break and sat down on a concrete bench overlooking the beach. I was on the second day of my period and bleeding quite heavily. In fact, I had already bled through my jean shorts. Normally I take it easy on the first few days of my flow for this exact reason but alas, I was in Costa Rica and wanted to explore every nook and cranny while I could (except for maybe the Crock Soup River.)
As I sat there and looked out at the horizon, I began to contemplate my life and felt overcome with happiness at the dream I had made a reality. I had been fantasizing about coming to Costa Rica for a while and in true Nicole fashion I could not just go for one or two weeks. I had to stay there for at least a month so I could feel like I truly lived there. And oh how much fun I had already been having just one week in.
Just as I began to scribble my happy thoughts in my journal, however, two adolescent girls, probably 11 or 12 sat down right next to me. I found it odd considering the bench directly next to us was completely empty. But then, I realized that they were actually acting very nervous. They were constantly glancing towards the right and then talking rapidly to one another.
I sensed their nervousness and said, “Are you ok?” They responded, in Spanish, that they didn’t speak any English. With my little knowledge of Spanish, I gathered that they were trying to hide from the man in a blue shirt, who happened to be sitting several benches down. My mama bear instinct kicked in and I quickly pulled out my translator app out and typed out, “Do you need me to walk you somewhere?”
“No, we are waiting for our ride,” one of the girls mentioned. At least that’s what I understood. Then one of them received a phone call and I inferred that their ride was close by. A few minutes later they stood up to leave and they said goodbye. I made eye contact and blew them an affirmative kiss. Though we couldn’t speak the same language they seemed to understand that I was telling them to be safe.
I already had plans to go to dinner so I stood up after them. That’s when I saw a man in a blue shirt a few benches down also stand up and begin following them from a distance.
So I did what any mama bear would do and I began to follow the man in the blue shirt who was following the girls. Though he was creepy I didn’t feel afraid of him. I could have easily kicked him in the nutsack and been on my merry way. My priority was on making sure the girls got to wherever they were going.
I had my phone clutched in my right hand as I sauntered slowly behind the blue-shirt man. Though my battery was low and I had no idea what the emergency hotline was in Costa Rica, I felt safe with my phone clutched tightly. I guess the blue shirt man started to suspect I was following him and perhaps he thought I was calling for backup. I didn’t want any trouble so I quickly crossed the street, my eye still on the girls far in front of me. The man glanced at me several times before stopping completely and sitting on a concrete slab in front of the bus station.
The girls were far enough ahead that I felt confident enough to let them continue on their own. I tucked away into the restaurant and let myself process what just happened.
What just happened is that two young girls, who could have been my children had I chosen to have them at a young age, felt that I was a safe haven for them, a place where they could seek shelter from a creepy man. And I must say I felt rather accomplished with this awareness.
Sure I don’t own a house. Every cent I save goes to fund my next adventure. I’ve been called every version of cheap you can imagine but I’ve seen more countries in the last year than most Americans will see in their entire lives. I also don’t have a family of my own. I never really wanted kids in my 20s because I was afraid they’d interfere with my nomadic lifestyle. A few years ago, however, like many women in their late thirties, I began wondering if I should have children. When my long-term partnership ended last year, I had to come to terms with the fact that I may never become a mom. And I’m not going to lie, it makes me sad sometimes, but I think that’s only because I haven’t heard of many (or any) women in their late thirties, or early forties who are living amazing lives, who are thriving, are fit and glowing and feeling fulfilled - and don’t have children.
But what I learned today is that though I am not a mom of my own kids, I can be a mom to the world. I can be a safe haven for anyone who needs reprieve at the moment. I can be that for others because I have learned to be that for myself. Traveling the world has built a kind of inner resilience and strength that is hard to come by otherwise. So while I may not own a house or have a pension, I know how to get myself and others out of some precarious situations, like avoiding becoming a Crocodile’s soufflé of the day or um, getting kidnapped.
I also know how to live.
Yesterday I hiked to several beaches before landing at one that was straight out of a magazine. As I was laying in the sand praying that I was not bleeding through my swimsuit onto the towel I snuck from my Airbnb, these words popped into my head, “This is the happiest day of my life, I am so happy right now.”
And it was true. Pura vida.
