By Hera Barrameda
Most of the time we travel to forget. But in the past years, I have been traveling to remember. I stared at the ocean on the day of my birthday a few years ago and saw life flash in front of me. It was colorful, however, for the most part too fast-paced that a little voice in me was subtly flagging me for not slowing down. Back then I would respond by saying “why slow down?” and being my adventurous self, I didn’t.
Back then I thought slowing down was unnecessary. My vehicle of a self has always enjoyed a full-tank of adrenaline. I would most often choose to go full-speed, windows wide open, car speakers at maximum volume, that I would sometimes miss a detour and hit a dead-end. My life was both exciting and difficult, but as more vignettes flashed in front of me, the mind movie reminded me of all those times I traded the gas for the brake pedal.
A fork in the road never terrified me as much as a full stop. Full stops come with injuries and major vehicle repairs: Heartbreaks that make you stay in bed for days. Annulment cases that take years. Leaving a job you once loved. Being sent to a country you do not know. Witnessing a friendship as it dies. When a fuse breaks, the road to recovery is a curse.
Full stops and repairs usually result in an upgrade. As I watch my mind movie, I realized had I not stopped to pause and get fixed, I would not have bought a new engine. I recall the many times I got an upgrade: More time for school. Freedom from a toxic marriage. Discovering a new career path. Realizing the best friends have been right there with you all along. In my case, my daughter was my best upgrade. There is no better way to propel yourself to live fully than the responsibility of raising a child.
Burnout is real and it had a lot of names. For some, it’s a monster sucking all the life in them. For others, it’s an unnecessary distraction that should be silenced by prescription. For some people, it’s a reminder to tap into our creativity and purpose. To me, it was a brake pedal.
More than 300 million people are living with depression all over the world. Depression is predicted to be among the most burdensome disease by 2030. If anything, I am grateful to live in a generation that finally gave it a name because we won’t know the enemy we’re dealing with unless we give it one. Slowly, companies are giving in to the reality that burnout is not an individual problem but an organizational challenge that needs to be felt and understood as every individual affects the whole. We have learned to numb who we are to focus on the (wrong) job that pays the bills, the (wrong) numbers that need to increase, and the (wrong) kind of success that will silence everyone. We have been living from the head, in a world that wished only for us to live from the heart. And now we have to pay the price.
I cried on the beach. I didn’t know what those tears stood for. I have been bumming around for almost a year at that time. Shortly after I left what has been a wonderful professional family, the mind thought, chuckling, that I want to be “rich and lazy” but the heart, who I can hear clearer this time, suggested that I pause, and so I did. I traveled, at times with my daughter and my family. More than half of those times in reasons more random than ordinary, exactly like that trip to the beach.
There are times we travel to forget. But in the past years, I have been traveling to remember. I travel alone. I love the thrill of no itineraries and last minute bookings. I love the thought of unexpected connections and new friends. But on the beach that day, while I watched parents, families, friends revel in the vastness of the ocean, I felt I was alone.
“Was I crying because I am alone?” I silently wondered. As I watched the sky turn to pink, purple, blue, and then gray, I saw people just as happy as they were when the sun was shining. At that moment, I remembered. They were tears of relief. The hurt little girl inside of me knows she can go anywhere and be safe, and whichever place she may be, she is home.
I look at the beach one more time smile. Inside of us is a sky full of stars (yes, I do love Coldplay) and blackholes: memories we try to remember and memories we try to forget. But, inside of us is the sun that shines even when we choose to turn our backs on it or the clouds get in the way. Then there is the ocean, that will always wash our tears away so we can put a new smile on our face (and random tourists who can capture it as it happens).
