advice – Page 3 – Brooke Lyn Landon

What Will I Do Once My Dream is Over

I have plenty of dreams, and one that I’ve had for the longest time is about to come true. In a few days I’ll be in Japan. If I got tattoos of things I’ve been obsessed with at some point in my life, I’d probably have a Hello Kitty tramp stamp, manga sleeve, all that Morning Glory store crap on my calves, a miso soup face tattoo, and throw in a couple geishas and Harajuku girls while I’m at it.

When I think about going to Japan now, I get so excited, but I also instantly picture that money emoji with wings flying away. I will try to make that forever tomorrow’s problem. What I am unnecessarily making today’s problem is finding out what to do once my dream is over.

Like I said, I have plenty of dreams, but when this one is over, I don’t have a plan of what step to take next. Im going back to a country where I have no home, or idea what will happen. The world is my oyster, and though that is a dream to many including myself, it’s an overwhelming amount of responsibility and choices. I trust that it will all unfold as it should, or as my friend’s tattoo says “It’ll probably be fine.” That said, it made me think about what more I can do to help me through the phase when a dream is over.

I’ve come to realize, the easiest way to move through this, is to get excited about the next phase, step, or event of my life. It could be acknowledging the tremendous growth this next chapter will bring, my next trip, or that dream that I get the feels just thinking about. As long as it’s not triggering in some way, focusing on another dream, event, or positive thought, will have me smiling because it happened rather than crying because it’s over.

However, focusing on a dream is not to say forget about where you are. This is not a day dream to take you to Neverland. If you feel like shit, acknowledge and process your feelings. Know that your mind is afraid but your heart knows what to do and will guide you if you let it. Then remember more is on its way.

This may be the end of one dream, but there are plenty more dreams to be fulfilled and that will come true. All that exists is the present and I know that sounds cliche as fuck but it’s the truth and you know it. In times like these, it’s when I need to focus and consciously do what I can to move forward with a positive mindset. I’d be lying if I said it would be a walk in the park, but I’ll be walking on sunshine if I make the effort.

I’m not saying this because I think I know it all or feel like you don’t know wtf you’re doing. I’m saying this because it helps be process my feelings and walk on sunshine. I also do this in the hopes you’ll be able to join me on my walk in the sun too.

The Time I Almost Died in Vietnam

Everything was going so smoothly my first several months traveling. Almost too smooth. Then, it all started with a bang, and by bang I mean me swinging the bathroom stall door against the wall while leaving a trail of vomit behind me.

Several hours later, I’m in the hospital in a developing country. One would think that would be the cause of my near death experience abroad. That however, along with loosing my debit card and breaking my phone within the same week, should have been taken as a warning sign for what was to come.

I had no card, no phone, and very few endorphins left in my brain. My friend James, who I met because I was forced to ask people to lend me money, offered to give me a ride on a motorbike to get my phone fixed. We borrowed our hostels motorbike, and headed towards what should have been a 17 minute journey to the phone repair shop.

The wind in my hair, and optimism in my mind, came to a halt as we approached a more than mildly terrifying intersection. Not because the roads looked like a challenge even for the Fast and Furious crew, but because we ran out of gas. We got off the road as quickly as we could. James guided the bike towards a little rundown convenient store on the corner as I walked by his side. At that point, I found the situation pretty comical, and would be lying if I said his frustration didn’t make it funnier.

We started trying to communicate with a local there which turned into a game of charades.

“I don’t know what the fuck this guy is trying to say.” James said in aggravation.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I think he wants me to get on the back of his bike, and for you to get on ours. I don’t know. Let’s just do it.” I said as I hopped onto the back of a strangers motorbike.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched the man stick his leg out like he was Jackie Chan about to kick down the bike James sat on. Instead, he hooked his foot onto our bike and put his keys in the ignition.

Next thing you know, I’m flying down a four-way highway during rush hour as James is being pushed along by this mans foot. Cars and bikes were swerving around us and beeping like it was their day job. We arrived at an intersection with so many cars and bikes, you could barely see the pavement.

I closed my eyes tightly and figured at least if I died, I went out with a bang traveling the world. I heard James repeatedly say “Oh my God.” as we made our way through. When I opened my eyes, I felt like I could conquer the world even though I really didn’t do shit. James stared back at me as if to say “Is this real life?” And we both began to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

To say getting sick, loosing my card, and breaking my phone put a damper on things would have been an understatement. It was the kind of damp that reeked of mildew as it tried to dry in a plastic bag.

Maybe I’m being a bit dramatic because there was so much good that came from all of those situations. It’s easy to be so caught up in the moment, that we don’t see the beauty in it. Sometimes the events in life that make us want to hit our heads against the wall, or nearly kill us, end up being the memories we wouldn’t trade for the world.

I’m About to Have a Midlife Crisis

I guess one could say I’m on the verge of having a bit of a midlife crisis. Not the crisis where I’m on my hands and knees begging for mercy. It’s more like the kind where I’m really hoping for some dude to come out of the sky and be like “Do this. It’s gunna be great. You’re awesome. Here’s some bomb, vegan, calorie free ice cream.” Like, is that too much to ask?

If someone were to ask me what I’m doing with my life, I’d probably have some basic white bitch answer like “Living my best life! #blessed” or some shit. That wouldn’t be lying. I’ve been traveling the world for months having the time of my life. That said, I can’t help but dwell on what’s around the corner when I return to the US.

Currently, I’m home free. I like to say that instead of homeless because it sounds cuter. I have no plans on how I’ll make money, where I’ll live, and most other things that are comforting to know. I’m a cross between an infant that doesn’t even know what’s on the other side of someone’s hands playing peekaboo, and a college dropout who doesn’t want to deal with all the BS. Great combo when 30 is creeping up and you see your friends with their 9-5 jobs, moving in with their significant others. If a guy can hold my interest for more than a month, I feel like I deserve a metal and one of those pageant sashes that says “Yass Queen! Keep those fingers crossed!”

So, how does one prepare for the inevitable depression that follows after the trip of a lifetime, or when you don’t know what the fuck is next? Or better yet, both at once.

My first instinct is to say the preparation involves a big trip to the grocery store, target, and some online retail therapy. However, I think the preparation is less about doing and more feeling.

Here’s how I feel. Everything to date has always and I mean ALWAYS worked out. Times like these are the pinnacle of ones own growth when looking back. The more of these challenges we face, the stronger and more prepared we are for the future. It’s a hustle, hurdle, and an advantage. Does it feel mildly terrifying and really icky? Yes. Will it be worth it in the end? Also yes. So, there you have it folks. That’s what you’ve got to tell yourself on the verge of a midlife crisis. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself to keep me sane.

The Bus Ride From Hell

Many people refer to the sleeper bus from Laos to Vietnam as the bus ride from hell. I think that’s an understatement. This ride felt like purgatory on steroids. I’ll tell you why.

I get to the bus where I see several other Americans waiting to board as I notice people from Laos getting on one after the next. Turns out, we have to wait until all of the locals board.

“Interesting, but no biggie, I’ll wait.” My ignorant, cheery ass thinks to myself, without a clue of the purgatory that awaited.

After waiting for what seems like forever, he gestures for us to come in as though we’re late. Then, I find a place in the back and put my stuff there.

“Nooo!! No!” The driver shouts at me to move. He shouted like he was the kind parent that yells at his kids in public and you’d think to yourself, “Yeah, that poor kid is going to need intensive therapy and be really fucked later on in life.”

Apparently, that back seat wasn’t back enough. I have to share a small space near the freakin’ toilet with the other Americans with no room between us. Essentially, I had to share a bed with strangers unlike any of the people from Laos. I’d be the first to admit I’ve grown up with white privilege. For one of the first times, I felt like it was a disadvantage, and related to other races on a different level than before.

I couldn’t sleep whatsoever. For the first 15 hours the bus swerved and bumped around the mountains and dirt roads of Laos. I regretted not wearing my sports bra. Several times I was legitimately concerned for my life and the girl by my side who would probably get knocked out from me crashing into her. I grabbed on to my seat like the bus drivers imaginary kid would probably hold on to his mother when his dad yells at him.

Finally, the bus stops at 2AM at the boarder as we wait for customs to open at 6AM. My heart dropped as my eyes widened when I heard him take the keys out of the ignition and felt the AC turn off. Next this you know, I’m sweating my ass off to the point where sweat is dripping down my back and face. If there was a white flag, I would have waved it. I felt like crying.

At 5:30 AM I finally decided to try sleeping in the isle because I couldn’t sleep on that faux leather piece of shit. The floor was better, but I still felt like I was lying on a tortilla bought at the dollar store.

Less than 30 minutes later I hear yelling that customs are open. The customs were so chaotic that I’d rather go through the New York, JFK airport, during the holidays. If that didn’t make your skin crawl, you’ve either had a supernatural experience at JFK, or you have never been. No one spoke English and people dismissed you like you were the vein of their existence. Thankfully after customs the roads were smoother and generally it wasn’t as hellish.

Long story long, it was 15 hours of hell, and 12 hours of meh. I’m sure some busses are better than others. So, if you want to take on an experience like this, just make sure it’s more like a bed and less like one of those leather chairs you’d find in a retirement home minus the arm rests and padding. If there are blankets with cartoons and flowers on them, run away because that would be my bus. Also, be prepared to be treated like you don’t exist and surrounded by complete chaos for 15 hours or so.

For the record, I don’t regret it. I would never look back on a plane ride to Hanoi, Vietnam. The bus to Vietnam will be something to remember, and content for a blog post.

What I Realized From Having a Virus in a Developing Country

Yesterday, I spent several hours getting pumped with fluids in a hospital bed, in a developing country, alone. Believe it or not, those were the best three hours of that day. Well, not too hard to believe considering it was cheaper and easier than getting care in the US, I felt like a queen, and got to nap with no other agenda. Fuck. Yes. Every adults dream.

I thought by this point I was good enough to muster the strength of a 4 hour bus ride to Vang Vieng, Laos. Now however, I’m crippled with concern that this bus will be showing waterworks starring me. Main Attraction: Projectile Vomit Everywhere. I have a plastic bag ready, and trust me, my fingers have never been crossed so tightly because I want that show cancelled.

I always joked about how I was one stomach flu away from my ideal weight. Be careful what you wish for. Not only is that a load of BS, but it’s probably the opposite. The laundry list of food I’m going to want to tackle once I get my appetite back will give me enough rolls on my sides to feed a Mormon family. I can’t even imagine how the Australian dude who was next to me with Dengue fever is going to feel.

It puts things in perspective. Fuck being an “ideal” weight. That shit isn’t even ideal. It’s a standard created by mentally ill people. Screw all ideals! Most people are pretty messed up in the head, so I think it’s safe to say the only logical ideal we should strive for is to be genuinely healthy and happy. That may be a no brainer, but hear me out.

When I took 8-10 gym classes a week and counted calories like it was my day job, I thought I was being healthy. What that’s really called is an eating disorder. When I was feeling good as a result of having social recognition and approval from other people in high school, I thought I was happy. That was masked insecurity. It’s harder to be truly happy and healthy regardless of our outside circumstances than we think. Though I’m constantly getting closer to that real healthy, happy place, I’d be lying if I didn’t internally huff and puff trying to fit into my old pair of shorts earlier today.

I think the first step to transcending the bullshit of expectations and unhealthy ideals is to become aware that life, for the most part, is a set of ideals and expectations that have been created by mentally sick people. People who thought happiness came from somewhere or something else. Or that if you didn’t have your life a certain way at a certain time, you were less than. By acknowledging that, at least I can be aware of the bullshit that it is. Awareness, patience, perseverance, and self acceptance of wherever we are, is a recipe to a genuinely healthier, happier life, and a smoother drive to Vang Vieng. I’m pleased to announce that I only have 20 minutes left of the ride, and I think the French boys next to me will stay dry.

My Shitty Day in Laos

I’m on day two of my boat trip to Luang Prabang, Laos, sitting on a two seater bench as stable as my friends last relationship. Of course, I’m next to an Italian man who’s hand gestures alone make me feel like I’m on a rocking horse. It’s a beautiful boat ride full of scenery that pictures could not do justice, yet here I am, after a silent meditation retreat nonetheless, being a little bitch about nearly everything. Heck, a little boy accidentally brushed up against me while I was trying to meditate and I sent him a death glare that would have made a bro from the Jersey Shore feel like he was going to Hell.

I could come up with a hundred contributions to my state of mind. 3 hours of sleep probably being the main source of my misery because everything was peachy on yesterday’s boat ride, but that’s besides the point. The point is even if nothing is your fault, whatever happens to you becomes entirely your responsibility. With whatever happens comes an unavoidable choice and responsibility you have to take on.

I can choose to continue to feel like shit, and that would be okay. Sometimes life’s shit and we just have to wait until the storm washes it away. That said, we also have the choice to open an umbrella and walk away from all the shit.

However, there’s a common misconception and belief that has been adopted by many, even me for some time. That it’s better to think only fluffy, sparkly, happy thoughts to feel better rather than being reflective. One is moving around the issue, and the latter is moving through it. One is repressive and one is expansive. There is no wrong choice, only a different result.

What did I want to do this morning when I looked in the mirror and instantly noticed the toll all of the fried rice and kao soi had taken? Think about how beautiful my curves are, how I’d want to be with someone who loves me for me anyways, and blah blah blah. Look, that’s great, and I certainly told myself those things, but not at first.

Why is my first reaction negative when I look in the mirror? Why am I putting so much importance on this temporary state of appearance? What belief is keeping this thought active? How is this serving me? From questions like these, I can choose how I will move forward with more clarity and awareness. By that point it becomes easier to see it’s all a bunch of bullshit anyways.

If I’m being honest, I feel better, but still shitty. I just want to sleep and press restart, but I asked myself questions so that I can take a step back from my thoughts and not be so identified with them. I’m no longer a victim. After a solid nap I bet I’ll be feeling like the cheery Italian man who’s oblivious to the distress he caused me.

It Doesn’t Matter Where You Are

I’m mid temple tour in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I’m surrounded by some of the most stunning and sacred temples in Northern Thailand, but the only place I want to be is back in Indonesia. I asked myself why I’m not stimulated by such beauty and found some answers shortly after observing my surroundings.

When I look to my left I see an elderly Asian couple from my group. They take an absurd amount of selfies, but who am I to judge. To my right is a squad of Spanish teenagers that look like they all went way too hard the night before. Behind me stands a couple who speak as though they only know how to talk about Voldemort, so they say nothing at all.

If I was with any of the people I befriended in Indonesia, I’d be laughing my ass off right now. Even if I was merely in the vicinity of them, I’d feel joy. So it’s not about where I am, it’s who I’m with.

We are co-creators. Life is meant to be shared. I used to cringe when I heard that saying because it reminded me about how I’m single as a dollar bill over here, but you don’t have to shag to share an incredible bond and experience.

Wait, I know what you’re thinking. What about being alone? Shouldn’t you be happy anywhere so long as you love yourself? Yep, my thoughts exactly. Maybe I still have a ways to go. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been very happy with who I am and being on my own this trip. I went to the night market alone last night and enjoyed my time there.

Could it be that witnessing others sharing experiences has me aware of the power and beauty of co-creation, and the void of not having that now is more apparent? Perhaps the amplification of my independence and freedom scares me. Maybe it saddens me because I’d rather have someone to depend on and be free with.

It could be so many things, but one thing’s for sure. I trust that life will unfold beautifully and this is just a micro ebb in the flow of my travels. I’ve been in Chiang Mai for a little over 24 hours, so I’ve got to cut myself some slack for not having made a connection I’m really pumped about. Time to see what magic life brings me next.

From Misery to Marvelous

June 7th, 2018

“That’s why I’ve concluded that between now and mid November, your togetherness can and should reach peak expression,” reads the words written below my horoscope in The Independent. Well, thank the freakin’ Lord because I feel as together as Britany Spears during her bald-head phase. My therapist tells me it’s time for more inner child work, and I agree. Problem is, that child inside of me is apparently a professional long distance runner because it seems like the chance to do the inner work tends to run away.

October 10th, 2018

So much for that stupid piece of paper in The Independent. If this is full expression, I want to go back to half expression, or no expression at all. I’m such a rollercoaster. I have the enthusiasm of an audience member on Oprah during the 12 days of Christmas giveaway. The next week, the dopamine in my brain is a mix of Eeyore from Winnie the Poo and Scrooge.

June 15th, 2019

The Independent may be full of shit, but at least I don’t feel like shit. In fact, over the past several months, life has been marvelous and keeps getting better. Though sometimes I look at the ebbs in life as unfortunate, it’s a beautiful phenomenon. The ever constant ebb and flow is the rhythm of the cosmos. It is the way we evolve into more. We perceive it as a rollercoaster because it’s one hell of a ride, but we don’t have to look at it as horrific. Our seatbelts are always on, and we’ll always be okay even when we scream or feel like puking. Eventually, we will enjoy the views and thrills of it all.

Three Steps to Succeed in Love and Life

photo-1465145177017-c5b156cd4d14 October 18th, 2018

“Step 1: _____
Step 2: _____
Step 3: Win”

That’s what I read as I looked down at the Cards Against Humanity card that I held between my thumb and index finger. I’m going to run with that prompt, and considering my life these days, I’ll write about relationships…or lack thereof.

Step 1: Stop worrying so much about being alone forever. The chances of me being an 80-year-old cat lady with cobwebs between my legs is not as likely as I make it seem…I’m allergic to cats.

Step 2: Enjoy the single life. It’s not all that bad, am I right? Now that I’ve spent the last two minutes trying to think of why it’s not all that bad, I’m realizing I have quite a bit of work to do. Shit, maybe step two should be find what brings you joy and follow that because thinking about single life makes me feel like Amanda Bynes pre-psychiatric treatment. Moral of step 2: Take action to do more of what lights you up.

Step 3: Win

More than six months have past since I wrote about the Cards Against Humanity prompt in October, 2018. A lot has changed since then. For starters, I could recite a laundry list of reasons why the single life is great. I am not saying this because since then I’ve been in a relationship that made me think boys are monsters and still have cooties. The single life is great because I listened to my own advice for once, and I took action to do more of what makes me happy.

These past several months have brought me so much fulfillment that a healthy and loving relationship would be the cherry on top rather than the Ben and Jerry’s itself. Until then, I’ll be living my best life, enjoying my freedom, and exploring possibilities. #Winning.

Are You Actually Worrying Too Much, Or Just Too Soon?

pexels-photo-262075 My mom’s German boyfriend, who I refer to as “The Germ,” told my mother, “You don’t worry too much, you worry too soon.” Props to The Germ for that gem.

Although I wouldn’t entirely agree in my case because I can certainly worry too much as well, I believe that The Germ is right. Heck, I spent all of last week hyperventilating about a “what if” scenario that didn’t even come close to happening.

Imagine if we never worried too soon, or we never worried at all? What if worrying isn’t a natural human response or state of being, but we’ve collectively agreed it’s the norm? Food for thought.

A lot of people don’t think worrying is a big deal, so they wait until it’s unbearable, and something must be done. I’m at the point in life where I feel I’ve suffered enough, and I am ready to do something before a midlife crisis happens. (Though I’m pretty sure I’ve already had about 12 of those.) What can be done to help us chill out?

Acknowledging that we’ve created a habit of worry is a good place to start. Just like any habit, when we’ve done it enough, it becomes second nature. If we start acknowledging worry as a habit, rather than linking the feeling with our identity, we can start to reclaim our power. Our perspective will shift objectively and positively by looking at worry through that lens.

I know it’s annoying as shit to hear someone say all you have is now, you just have to wait and see, or be in the moment when you have a flat tire on Route 101, and you’re worried you’re going to miss your favorite barre class. That said, it’s true. Nothing else exists but now. The past is an illusion from our limited perspective, and the future is nothing but our imagination. When we worry, it is never coming from this moment in time. It’s coming from our programming of what we believe might have or will happen. A habit of thought.

Becoming aware of our worries, and taking those moments to transform our fears into a practice of mindfulness and presence, will help us not worry too soon. We will progress so long as we keep trying. It may Not be easy at times, but no mud, no lotus.