Hawaii was the place most people went to vacation. One of the world’s most beautiful places. For me Hawaii will always be the place that saved me. I saved me. I saved myself from myself. Before Hawaii my life was a continuous cycle of heart ache. I was held down by the shackles of a oh hum ordinary life. A life that was dictated by what others thought I should do and who I should be. I was rebelling. One day my parents had enough and I found my stuff outside. I knew I wanted to leave anyway. I called my friend. He was stationed at Scofield Barracks in Wahiwa, Hawaii. He said “Rock come here. I’ll help you get on your feet. Just get your plane ticket.” So I did it. I booked a one way ticket to an island I had only seen in pictures. I left in two days. I told two people that I was leaving. We threw a huge party the night before. I was still drunk walking down the tunnel to board the plane. Once the plane took off the tears poured from eyes. I cried for everything I had experienced. I cried for being scared of the unknown. I cried for the heart ache I felt. I cried for the entire three-hour flight from San Francisco to Kona. It felt liberating. I tend to internalize my pain, so to have it out in the open was different for me and it felt good.
I arrived in Kona. Expecting a luscious green oasis I was disappointed. I was surrounded by dirt. The only thing that I saw was an air strip. I had a lay over. I sat on a bench waiting for the next flight to Honolulu wondering what was to become of this new life I just begun. When I first laid eyes on my friend he looked like an angel. I embraced him for the first time in years. Leaving the airport we sped down H1 he informed me that he was leaving for the field for a few days. That night I drove him to the field and attempted to find my way back to the house in the pitch dark. After circling the base multiple times I made it back to the house. I felt like the burden of everything that had happened in California was beginning to lift off of my shoulders.
My first morning living my new life I decided to just get in the car and drive. I drove past green prickly bushes that were pineapple fields. I had no idea where I was, but that was part of the adventure. I found a beach, pulled over. The sun was beating down and I wanted to cool off. In California the ocean is refreshingly cold. Not so much in Hawaii. I waded into the water. It was warm like bath water. I sat on the sand. I forced myself to remember everything. Every painful memory from my childhood before my adoption. Every detail that I could possibly remember. I felt like I was finding my way through a thick dark forest desperately looking for light. Every branch in my way was a different painful memory. The screaming. The fear. The beatings. The feeling of being helpless. I put myself back in the shoes of a small girl incapable of saving herself. But that changed that day on the beach. I was no longer that scared girl anymore. I would become my own savior. I left the beach a different person that day. A person who better understood herself. Someone who finally accepted where she came from. Accepting my past was the key to grabbing my future by horns and just hanging on for dear life.
Some people (my mother) would argue that moving to Hawaii was one of the stupidest things I’ve done. I don’t care. I did it for me. No one else. I knew I needed a change and with the help of a selfless friend (to whom I’ll always be grateful to) I was able to bring closure to a chapter of my life that was extremely painful. Who needs a super man when you can cast your sorrow out to sea and save yourself?
