The show is about Bojack, an actual horse (the show is animated, follow me here) who lives in an anthropomorphic world with other animals and humans. BoJack was on a show during the 1990's called Horsin' Around. Since then, BoJack has become a bit of a dark cloud. He has a lot of self-destructive behaviors and he struggles to build healthy relationships. Much of his negativity stems from a toxic relationship with his emotionally abusive mother (see how deep this runs for me?) I see a lot of myself and other people around me in him. He lives in Hollywoo (I know what I did there), where he's often surrounded by a lot of drugs and glamour.
I'm now at a point in my binge where he recently lost a good friend of his. In his grief, he just fled. He apologized as much as he could and took off in his car. Looking at this animated show, as this man drove aimlessly through the dessert was so familiar. Because I did it. It looked the same, felt the same, and I did it for the same reason. I fled.
I couldn't discuss it while in litigation, so I largely didn't mention it in this blog, but I spent last summer by myself for 12 days on the west coast. I flew into San Francisco and made my way over to Los Angeles, followed by Phoenix, and then on to Vegas, where I flew home from. I needed that trip like I needed the air that I breathe. I drove between all of those cities. Just me and my thoughts. Looking back now, I guess I can see how far-fetched it seemed. But at the time, it just felt right. I knew that I needed to get away. I can't say that I was running. I wasn't. But I couldn't stomach to stand still either. Add my grief to a job that was beginning to stress me to the point of no return, my trip out west saved me from myself.
I don't know what called me out there. There were actually a few things I'd had lined up, in addition to a few friends I wanted to see, but that wasn't it. I'd needed time away, to figure out my thoughts. To decide what I needed in life. To sort out my grief. Quite a few people questioned why I'd opted to go away by myself for so long, but I honestly couldn't explain it. I just knew that I needed to go. To fly. To be alone. I'd had a few destinations on the map, but by and large, outside of driving and seeing Fred, I had no real plans, except for my newly minted plan to strip down to nothingness the moment I entered my hotel room. The only room I'd booked was for the start of my trip, but other than that, I left it all up in the air.
I have a co-worker in a higher position, who is a free-spirit, much like myself. I talked to him yesterday and shared that for my upcoming trip in less than two weeks (WOOHOO!!), the only hotel I'd booked is for my first night. I said to him that there's something thrilling about waking up in one city and not knowing if you'll fall asleep in the same city. Will I sleep in Los Angeles tonight, or will I sleep in San Francisco? It was thrilling. My co-worker looked at me like I was on a heroin trip.
So, I guess I neglected to mention that I intend to go on another trip. Yes God, in two weeks. Its been a struggle, I've prayed to the financial gods for this to come together, and it has. Finally. I'm no longer driving to grieve. I'm driving to breathe. To move. To be free. To explore. I'll visit beaches by myself, I'll climb mountains by myself, to cry by myself, to laugh by myself. Y'all have been doing vacations wrong.
No comments:
Post a Comment