Footprint In The Sand

Moving to Bermuda for a year was a significant change for me, but it also brought about significant changes for the people around me.

My footprint was massive, and it was messy. Sand got into my eyes, hair, and everyone else’s as well. I kicked, fell, made mistakes, cried, and laughed.

Even though all of us were sandy, my family and friends helped me get back up every single time.

For that, I am so thankful, because most of the time, I just wanted to lie in the sand, still like the rocks around me. But I wasn’t allowed to. “You can’t grow in the comfort zone,” I was told again and again.

I was torn from my bed in my dark apartment to cycle, lift weights, and do jiu-jitsu. I was irritated, but eventually, I became happy that I moved my body.

However, with work and exercise, there was this feeling, a pressure when people told me, “you should do this” and “don’t do that” and “when I was younger,” and I know everyone meant well. But it felt like my life was being lived for me, and I wasn’t able to make my own decisions.

It left me confused, so I started to drift away. I went out with my friends, shopped, partied, basically did things I chose to do.

But that frustrated the people trying to help me because they were providing me with all I needed to know—a cheat code for growing from a teenager into an adult.

I knew this, but I kept going, because avoiding people is much easier than facing them.

I only lasted so long because people saw through my silence, and they broke it.

They smashed my glass box of silence that I frantically tried to repair. When they dragged me out, kicking and screaming, I saw that they truly wanted the best for me.

All I’m left to do is thank them. Not just with words, but with the way I take care of myself and build my future. Thank you.