This is Not the Vacation I Ordered

Kingston. The word itself feels like a foreign language these days. It's supposed to be a vacation, this visit to my friend's house, a chance to escape the monotony of my daily grind. But instead of feeling refreshed, I'm drowning in a sea of restlessness and a gnawing homesickness.

The first few days were okay, I guess. A novelty, a change of scenery. But the novelty has worn off, replaced by a suffocating sense of being… trapped. Trapped in this house, trapped in their rhythms, trapped in a version of myself I barely recognize.

Take mealtimes, for example. Or lack thereof. One meal a day, usually a late lunch, is their standard operating procedure. No snacks, no dinner, just that solitary meal stretching out to fill the void until the next day. Tonight's Friday, and the thought of another evening with an empty stomach is… depressing. I tried to subtly suggest ordering food if the person who owns the vehicle is going on the road, but the response was a swift, "I'm not buying any food on the road." Okay, got it. Loud and clear. Some battles, you learn to pick your battles. This is one I'm happy to concede.

My emergency rations – a pack of ramen noodles – are long gone. Probably devoured by her brother. Honestly, these little inconveniences are a good reminder of how much I take for granted. Running water, a stocked fridge, the freedom to eat whenever I want. Life throws curveballs, and sometimes, you just have to ride them out. So, I'm surviving on coffee, tea, and the dwindling reserves of my own willpower.

This enforced deprivation has been… enlightening, to say the least. It's forced me to confront some uncomfortable truths about myself. Like the fact that I'd give my left arm to lose 80 pounds. Not for vanity, exactly, but for freedom. Freedom from the weight that drags me down, both physically and emotionally. Freedom to move with more grace, to feel confident in my own skin. Maybe this forced fasting is a blessing in disguise, a kick in the pants I desperately needed to get my act together.

My mind wanders to the future, to the life I envision for myself. A life where I'm not just surviving, but thriving. A life with a stable income, a comfortable home, the freedom to travel, to explore, to pursue my passions. I dream of grocery shopping at PriceSmart, filling my cart with whatever I want, whenever I want. But that's just the surface. The real dream is deeper, more ambitious.

I want to run my own business, to be my own boss, to build something meaningful. I want to be that woman – confident, successful, radiating an inner glow. I envision myself as someone who inspires others, who lives a life of purpose and joy. Someone who looks at herself in the mirror and feels a surge of pride instead of the usual self-criticism.

But the gap between that vision and reality feels vast. Will I ever be able to break free from my unhealthy eating habits? Will I ever have the discipline to stick to a fitness routine? 30 pounds? 50? 100? Sometimes, even 10 pounds feels like an insurmountable mountain to climb. Yet, the thought of shedding just a fraction of this weight fills me with a surge of hope. Imagine, finally feeling light, feeling free, feeling vibrant.

These thoughts, these fantasies, they fuel a deeper longing for change. A longing for a life that's more than just this – this frustrating limbo, this constant struggle. I dream of waking up one day and finding myself living a completely different reality. A reality where I'm earning a decent income, where I have a strong support system, where my days are filled with passion and purpose. I want to be that girl – the one who's living her best life, the one who's making a difference in the world.

But wishing won't get me there. I know that deep down. This isn't about wishful thinking; it's about taking action. It's about discipline, about perseverance, about believing in myself and the journey ahead. It's about recognizing that even in the midst of this frustrating vacation, there's a valuable lesson to be learned. A reminder of what truly matters, of what I'm capable of achieving.

So, I'll endure. I'll drink my coffee, I'll savor the silence, and I'll use this time to reflect, to plan, to dream. I'll carry this discomfort with me, not as a burden, but as a catalyst for change. Because I deserve more. I deserve to be happy, healthy, and fulfilled. And I believe, with every fiber of my being, that I can make it happen.

Yes, I know I wrote an article similar to this earlier today. Click here to read: This Vacation is Making Me Miserable