Arigato

I remember my dad telling me, after my mom passed, that he wasn’t glad it happened, but he knew it would make me grow up.

And boy, have I grown.

I sat on the bullet train and cried—but these tears were different.

They weren’t the same frustrated, exhausted tears I’d cried the entire time I’ve been in Japan.

These were tears of pride.

Because even though this trip has been less than perfect—even though it felt like everything that could go wrong, did—I was still sitting on that train in Japan.

I put myself on the other side of the world, by myself, with nobody to call, nobody to lean on. Nobody held my hand. I didn’t ask anybody for a fucking thing, and I did it. I said I wanted to do it, and I did.

I initially thought the trip was a waste.

I wasn’t having a good time.

I barely wanted to leave my hotel room.

I wanted to go home.

But what I paid for wasn’t just a trip—it was an unshakable confidence in my ability to figure shit out.

I learned, in real time, just how resilient I really am.

I proved to myself that no matter what gets thrown at me, I have the determination to pivot, to keep going, and to see myself through to the other side.

That was priceless.

Growing up coddled and sheltered left me carrying this quiet fear—that I didn’t have what it takes to make it in the real world.

But ahead of my 32nd birthday, Japan has given me all the affirmation I didn’t even know I needed.

I’m not that scared little girl anymore.

I don’t need anybody to carry me through life.

I know how to make shit happen—even when it’s messy, even when it doesn’t go as planned, even when it feels impossible. I got it.

When I finally get home to The Oasis—my apartment—I’ll land in a beautiful space with good energy that I curated with intention, piece by piece, once again, by myself.

And when I get back, I won’t have to fight for peace,

because I’ve already created an abundance of it.

Happy birthday, Tay. I’m proud of you. 💕