Well, I had a pretty wonderful time at the beach. We camped for days and having a companion has made all the difference. It’s been fun to see her experience so many new things.
I felt super lucky- super blessed- to have some unique experiences. We got to see a giant sea turtle coming up one night to nest. The problem is we must have scared her because she abruptly turned around and went back into the ocean. I told God I was sorry I scared his turtle and I hope she comes back to lay her eggs. I walked the beach every night looking for her again, but never found her.
One of those nights I saw a tiny, glowing green light down on the sand. At first, I thought it was biolumescent phytoplankton. But I think that glows blue and is seen by the thousands. This was one speck and it was green. So I think I may have seen the thermoluminescence of fluorite in the sand. I’m not really sure. Either way, it was super cool.
The last night there, I left my friend in the tent sleeping and I went for another midnight beach walk until 2 am. I walked for hours and miles- to the point that I got blisters from walking on the sand. I loved it though. Walking in the moonlight on the beach, hearing the waves crashing, smelling the sea salt, feeling the warm sea spray…it was magical. I tried to talk to God multiple times. I kept asking him what he wanted me to do- how does he want me to serve him? I kept getting something that starts with an “s” but I couldn’t make out what it was. I feel like God doesn’t try too hard to talk to me. Or maybe I don’t listen very well.
Anyway, I seriously want to retire to a beach. It’s so enjoyable. I dove to catch fish with my bare hands until my eyes were burning from the sea water. It was so reminiscent of the fun I had as a kid growing up near the ocean.
There were only a few times something bad went down. Several times, while sitting alone in my beach chair watching the waves, I felt super depressed. It’s like- when the world stops, my depression jumps on me instantly. I had to occupy myself to shake it off. Then, there was this guy- an older man, who I saw kept circling us on the beach. He’d walk by us, go all the way down the beach nearly out of sight, then would come back. He walked these giant circles multiple times. He said hi one time. Then he said, “nice day for a walk on the beach.” Then, after walking a few more circles around us, he approached me again and said, “I hope you don’t take offense, but you have a beautiful body. I just admire beautiful people and you have a beautiful body. I don’t mean nothin’ by it. Hope it’s ok if I say that. You’ve got a really beautiful body.”
Oph. This is the point where I knew he was super creepy. I was already weirded out because he kept walking by over and over again. When he came by again, I was sitting in my beach chair and I pulled my hat down over my face and pretended to be asleep.
I thought maybe that’s the kind of guy who’s a predator. I don’t know.
It made me worried to walk on the beach alone at night. I wish I had my firearm with me to feel safe. I carried my flashlight and my phone. That’s it. I felt very, very vulnerable…but I went out walking anyway.
Part of me wonders if my disregard for my safety in situations like that is a bad thing. Like, is it self- harm to do stuff like that? I think sleeping in my car is too. I think quite a bit of what I do that disregards my safety could be that.
I feel this world is so dangerous. I recall saying something like that to someone kind of recently. I can’t remember who. But their response shocked me. They said something like- I live in the same dangerous world you do- and so does my family. I realized this person doesn’t get it. They don’t get PTSD. They don’t understand how deeply hurt I’ve been and how trusting people- even a stranger walking on the beach, is impossible. I can’t expect people to understand, I guess. Unless they’ve experienced the violence and trauma of being raped multiple times and being choked and being molested by their own father, they couldn’t possibly get where my view of this sick world comes from. I don’t think this is really PTSD. Honestly, this is a normal reaction- to not trust, to have fear all the time- that’s normal if you’ve been through these things. My fear isn’t unfounded and it’s not a freaking disease.
Anyway, the first few days we were at the beach, we had a double red flag warning- rip tide. One person drowned that first day. The water was closed, but with no lifeguards, people can do whatever they want. I thought of taking advantage of this. But I also thought that would be a horrible way to go. I’ve always had a fear of drowning since I was little. And when I was a teenager, I got caught in a rip tide once and got pulled out super quickly. I remember my feet getting sucked out from under me, being sucked out, getting dragged along the ocean floor, spinning around and around. I remember trying to claw at the sand when I was face down. When I surfaced, I was super far from the beach. I was exhausted by the time I swam back. My necklace, rings, and my all-time favorite bracelet (an Indian made turquoise and silver cuff) had been sucked off my body. I think the only reason my swimsuit was still on was because it was a one piece. I’ve never forgotten the sudden violence the ocean showed me that day. Maybe that’s why I think drowning would be a horrible death.
Today, I’m back at my mom’s for a few days. Today, I had a migraine. Today, I had many sad thoughts. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I have to go home, back to reality, back to being alone. I’m worried about that. I’m worried about that a LOT.
I stopped in at my brother’s on the way here. I watched his little girl ask him, “what’s wrong, daddy?” over and over again. I looked at him and he was sitting back in a chair in full relaxation mode with a little smirk on his face. She asked him again, “what’s wrong, daddy?” He answered, “Not a thing…not a thing.” He kept smirking.
This hit me hard- in both a good way and a bad way. I’m very happy for my brother. His life is so blissful. And full. I’m glad he’s getting to experience being a father and having a family. He’s very happy. But it hurts to know I will never experience this. I feel like so many people take this for granted. Every single person I know is married and has children. Everyone has a family. Everyone is so blessed. Everyone has constant companionship, a full life, and constant love being given and received…everyone is so, so lucky.
I will never have a family. I don’t know why God would do that to me. It’s like I don’t deserve it or something. I joke to myself that I couldn’t handle having little kids because I’m a bit of a germaphobe. But that’s not the truth of why God doesn’t trust me with children. I’ve already lost two. I can never forgive myself for that. It’s all my fault.