• Tara B. Vasi

Day 30/1/40: Bangkok, Thailand to Bali. November 12th. Goodbyes, hello’s, mother's

My first alarm goes off at 7:30am but I snooze it longer than anyone should and I am sure Bryony doesn’t appreciate the constant chimes and song. I don’t really either. Luckily, I had everything packed and ready to go the night before. Also, the shorter my new best friend and I have to say “See you later” the better, I think.

There are a few disappointing messages on my phone as I wake up, but I wait until I brush my teeth and open my eyes more before I even try to overanalyze them.

I head down to breakfast and get ahead start on my coffee intake. Bryony will meet me down there. I have to meet my cab at 9:30am and I don’t really have much time.

I sneak off to the bathroom and nick a plastic sanitary napkin disposal bag and pocket an egg sandwich for the airport. I eat a small piece of toast with jam and immediately head back to the bathroom and lose my insides. Bryony meets me at the table, but tries to act tough and ignore me denying the fact that we were parting ways. It was truly adorable. She dropped a big dig on Owen, one of the funniest things I have heard her say, and I was truly so proud of her. I am pretty sure my humor and maybe a bit of snideness has rubbed off on her. We hugged and said goodbye and then I went around to the rest of the group and said my goodbyes. I connected with everyone there on one level or another, but the OG’s had my heart. Bryony, Prince Alibabwa, Kenneth, Florian, Lara, Owen, and Olivia. Truly Amazing people and truly amazing memories. Thank you for everything.

It takes about 45 minutes to get to the airport where I enter and immediately use the bathroom and lose more of my insides.

My flight is delayed. I lose more of my insides. I eat my cold egg sandwich anyway.

We finally board and the flight is not full, so I end up getting three seats in a row and lay down. This totally makes up for the $50 baggage fee.

We land. No one claps. It takes me like an hour and a half to get my bag and then another hour to go through immigration and customs. I hire a driver to take me to my hotel for $15 and I arrive around 8:30pm. Along the way, I notice there aren’t really traffic lights and people just kind of drive around wherever they want and go wherever they want. I see a lot of tattoo parlors and cafes.

I get to the Zest Hotel in Semanyak and check in. I am rooming with someone named Haley and the group is across the street meeting and eating dinner.

Hayley isn’t there when I get to the room. I drop my bags and head across the street. I walk over to what appears to be a big group and say, “Hi! Are you guys with G-Adventures?” They all stare at me and say nothing. The table and the restaurant itself is absolutely packed. I walk towards the head of the table because I assume that’s where the leader would be and cure enough see a dude in a G-Adventures shirt. There is a drag show karaoke mashup sort of thing going on, so he pulls me out to where it is quit. I love this, because I didnt really feel like a meet and greet and needed some food. He told me some things and I only partially heard, and I only partially listened. He told me my options for activities the next day, a surf class, or a tour to an island. I ordered chicken satay with peanut sauce, mixed vegetables and rice. I did it mainly for the peanut sauce. It was delicious.

I met a guy at the bar named Kev, not Kevin, but Kev. He was from UK. He thought I was Australian and apparently there are a ton of Australians that live in Bali and in actuality Australia and Bali are only a two hour plane ride away.

He hides the fact that he’s wearing a wedding right and I don’t hide the fact that I am really not interested in him in the slightest, but we had a nice conversation trying to figure out if the entertainment was in fact men or women.

I leave once he starts slurring and head back to the hotel to search for yoga studios in Semanyak. Hayley is still not in the room. I don’t even know the sweet girl but I certainly hope she is ok.

I am so excited to fall asleep because I am so excited for my day tomorrow! BALI! I am in fucking Bali!! 40 days of traveling in the books!

My mother has texted me after many days of going radio silent and I know she will mention Cherry Cough Syrup Memory. It took me a little bit of time to process her response. I don’t know what kind of response I was really expecting and Im not going to get into any more detail about that.

The point of my story was to share the importance of forgiveness and moving on from previous traumas. My blog and my story thus far show that it is possible to take the power back in your life. To not let your traumas control you. To move past stressful childhood divorce, addiction, depression, anxiety, to choose growth and to make it clear that it is your responsibility alone to make those changes. No one is going to take your power back for you.

We had a lot growing up. We had a nice house, healthy meals, new clothes every year. I went to multiple sports camps. We went on vacations. But as I grew up, so many things changed and so quickly and I was not well, regardless of all that I had, and I turned to substances to cope.

But, this year, I finally chose to take my power back by choosing sobriety, so in doing so, I had to really figure out what emotions I was suppressing in the first place when I chose to drink in excess. That dug up some pretty nasty bones. And not just bones about my child hood. Bones about my relationships, and the relationship I have with myself.

My story was not meant to be any sort of attack on my mother, her parenting or her personality, not that I condone some of the things she did. I cannot change them. They are a part of me. My memory was a little piece of the bullshit that I needed to revisit and let go of, in order for my garden to grow properly.

My mother and I have always had a complex relationship, and I know a lot of women in this world that do too. And maybe some of my readers will follow suit and take their power back, whether it be choosing growth, sobriety, or even maybe taking that next step in forgiving and accepting their mothers, for being imperfect beings just like you and me.

I know that in order for me to live a happier and healthy life, I have to forgive my mother for some of the things she has done, just like she needs to forgive me, for some of the things that I have done. Plus, there’s a big part of me that knows she sorry, whether she says it enough or not, and that she really truly mothered in the best way she knew how. And I hope there’s a part of her that knows I’m sorry for all of it, too.


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