one of the cottages at jakeās hotel at treasure beach, jamaicaĀ
x amount of months ago, the boy i loved decided that after almost exactly two years together he didnāt want me anymore. so, i decided to cut off a foot of my hair and book a flight to jamaica.
the hair? in my mind, chopping off your hair is just what you do in response to heartbreak. also, because cliche. also, also, i was trying my best to channel waiting to exhale angela bassett minus the burning of things...though i really, really wanted to burn everything.
it took nearly two hours to get to treasure beach from montego bay. i was lucky to have a new friend who fell in love with me and took the scenic route. iāve never been to a more lush place.
the trip? i needed to cry and scream and mourn and not be surrounded by any reminders of him and our time spent together. i considered all the places i could unapologetically ugly cry in solitude, but serendipitously (magically?) one of the blogs iāve religiously followed for years - you know the type of blog: nice white lady, big city living, her kids, recipes, beige - had just posted about a quick weekend trip she and her partner took to a small fisher village in jamaica.
the pictures she posted captured exactly what i needed - beautiful, unreal location, seclusion, water everywhere. i knew immediately thatās where i was going. of course, i did my due-diligence by reading every single trip advisor review of jakeāsĀ hotel, googling āsolo + international travel + female,ā making sure my passport was good to go, and tetris-ing 12 books into my carry-on.
with the exception of my parents (because theyād never forgive me and, duh, safety), i told no one about my short four day trip, and only a handful of close friends (and a former professor i surprised-cried in front of - he was super kind and very uncomfortable) knew about the break-up.
when i arrived at jakeās hotel, the beautiful staff - and i mean theyāre gorgeous! - offered me fresh watermelon juice and once they learned that i was traveling alone, upgraded me to a beautiful pink cottage that opened up right into the ocean.Ā
the break-up? a few days before my 26th birthday, i bought a ticket to visit the boy in the city that i thought would soon be home again, maybe even our home. that trip was the carrot (a beautiful six foot two carrot) that kept me going. when work shoved me to an all too common limit, or the tiny (and not so tiny) indignities of living the the small southern college town became too much, i could just think about my carrot and kept on pushing.
a little more than a month before my visit, the boy spilled the beans. he couldnāt do this anymore; he didnāt want me anymore. i was blindsided and devastated and so deeply hurt, but life doesnāt care about you being dumped. i had to show up to work the very next day and the day after that and you get the picture. i clearly remember sitting in a board meeting preparing to make a presentation and suddenly having my too fresh heartbreak wash over and nearly knock me down. i wish i didnāt remember that.
iām still amazed that i held it together. all i wanted to do was cry and maybe scream and ask questions i knew i wouldnāt/couldnāt get answers to. i did cry and i cried e v e r y w h e r e - on the way to work, at work (under my desk with the door closed), during hot yoga, on 4 mile runs, while pouring tea, in the bathtub, on the drive home from work, in bed.
i finally ventured outside of the hotel and my books my last evening on the island. that new local friend took me to all his favorite places and i drank all the red stripes heād buy me. my favorite part was meeting and having conversations with all the lovely people i met, nanny especially.Ā
eventually the crying (but not the hurt) ebbed and i found myself on several planes and then in a new country. i spent each day in jamaica doing exactly what i wanted. i ate all the plantains and aackee and saltfish. drank rum punch and red stripe at the bar while i read. soaked up sun while i read. read and read and read. each night iād leave my cottageās doors wide open so that iād fall asleep and wake up to the sounds of the ocean crashing mere feet from my bed.Ā
i realized natureās ferocity and tenacity.Ā
i didnāt do a lot of crying.Ā
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