It’s 11:18am and I’m feeling more energized after 2.5 cups of coffee and a glorious steam room session at the Thermal Suite. I had a scary moment earlier— I thought I lost my phone! I took my swimsuit and purse with me to the spa, and all of the lockers were locked, so I placed my items in an empty locker (without the key code) so technically anyone could have stolen my belongings. It was a risk I was willing to take. I spent about 30 minutes in the spa and came back to get my things. Halfway back to my room, I realized that my phone wasn’t in my purse! I rushed back to the spa to see if I had left it in the locker, but it wasn’t there. No one had returned it to the front desk, either. In a mild panic, I walked-ran back to my room to see if I left it there. Low-and-behold, my phone was hiding on the top shelf cabinet— I guess I placed it there while I was getting ready and did not bring it to the spa. Nothing like a classic Belicia moment to spice up my day— I have at least one of those per vacation. I blame the caffeine withdrawal and drowsiness. Anyway, I am happily reunited with my phone, and I’d hate to think what would happen if I had actually lost it on the ship. Geez louise.
I am definitely splurging on self-care this trip. I booked a 75-minute deep tissue massage, as per the recommendation of the massage therapist lady who gave me a complimentary 3-minute “massage taster” earlier. She said that I have knots in my shoulders, and I told her I was a fitness teacher who uses my body strenuously every day, and she said I desperately need to integrate massages into my routine. I wholeheartedly agree. The deep tissue massage is scheduled for 1pm. I’m gonna hit a workout from 12-1pm, then massage, and then another steam room session. After that, the day is all mine for the taking.
It’s supposed to rain later today, so I want to sit on the lawn chair on deck 15 and do some reading before the rain renders the top deck uninhabitable. That’s one of my favorite things to do, especially at night, even when it’s cold and chilly. When we’re at sea, there’s nothing more marvelous than sitting in the dark of night, sandwiched between the sky and sea, and just taking it all in. You can’t do this in everyday life on land. This is why I love cruises— it’s the ambience, the majestic scenery, the closeness to water that aligns with my essence as a Pisces.
Anyway. Gonna do some more reading of “Autobiography of a Yogi”. I’ll talk to you guys later!
9:24pm
Hey y’all! I just got back from dinner— Italian night at Michelangelo— and am resting in my stateroom before the night’s activities. I was sad that I missed the dance competition that was happening in the Piazza during dinnertime. If I had known it was happening, I 100% would have participated and stolen the show. On second thought, maybe I would let others shine in the spotlight. I dunno, I get enough attention with dance in my daily life… it would be kinda mean if I monopolized everyone’s attention as the one professional dancer participant. People also aren’t looking for perfection— they wanna laugh. They want to see non-dancers try their best and fail and laugh at themselves and not give a shit… I am not a silly performer. I am not a comedian, I am a class-A diva and drama queen on stage. Nah, I’m glad I sat this one out. But tonight is Latin night at the Skywalker Club, and I’m all dressed up for it! Got on my black Latin practice shirt and red Latin skirt and Latin dance heels, and my parents are gonna join me at the club and be my personal videographers as I bust out those cha-cha and salsa moves. Good content for social, and even better memories. In truth, I’m feeling a bit drowsy at the moment, even after my post-meal caffe latte. I did end up getting off the ship for 30 minutes with my new friend, Yogi, who works as as fitness coach on the ship (haha, I love that his name is Yogi). We stayed close to the ship and walked around a food court, and I bought a few Red Bull energy drinks from the market ($14 for 3 energy drinks?! Canada, what are you doing???) At least I have some liquid energy to fuel me for the rest of the night. I know, guys, I’m such a bad influence… I need to slow down on the caffeine, I really do. But a dancing queen’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, right?
Towards the end of dinner, I started feeling low about that guy I’m getting over. It always hits me at night, when the midnight hour approaches. There’s something about night time and the comeuppance of silence that gets me anxious and up in my feelings. It’s okay, these are all normal feelings to have following a “breakup”. I use quotation marks because he’s not out of my life, he’s very much still a good friend, but he’s no longer a lover. I have to grieve that part of our relationship that has come to rest. I have to grieve the loss of the fictitious future I had conjured in my head. A future where it was me, him, and the world. Nah, that’s not happening, not anymore. It was my decision to go after an unavailable man, and I alone have to live with the consequences. Moreover, I am in charge of my own healing and feelings. I can self-soothe, I can take care of myself, I’ve been through worse with worse men. This guy is great, he’s just not the One, and that’s okay. I once told him, “I’d rather have a part of you than none of you.” Is that phrase romantic or desperate? A last-ditch effort for connection that can be summed up by one word: SETTLING. I don’t want to love half-heartedly, I want to give someone all of me… and holding back is painful. It feels like I am depriving myself of something greater… it feels like I’m denying myself what I truly want. And it’s also a sign of ATTACHMENT. Ah, that deadly word, that fabled construct that most of us fall trap to, the prison that robs you of true joy and freedom. This guy and I had long conversations about attachment. To be non-attached is to be truly liberated. He said, “I want it to be okay if the next time I see you is the last time.” I think what he meant by that is, “I want us to be okay without each other. But I still am grateful to have met you.” I don’t think he meant it as, “You’re worthless and nothing to me, I don’t care if you’re in my life or not, I don’t give two shits.” His drift is more about gratitude and appreciation for the time we have together, and treasuring the beautiful moments we shared together, without expectation taking the magic away from it.
Anyway, I’ll stop talking about him. I was just scrolling on instagram and watched some ballroom videos, and I was struck with the inspiration that ballroom is not over for me, and I can still compete and perform at a high level, I just need to find the right partner and I have many years left in my career, so much untapped potential waiting to be realized. I’m not done yet. I’m only just beginning. Perhaps it’s the words of all these cruise ship people getting into my head— you’re so good, why don’t you perform on this ship, you are such a beautiful dancer, to watch you move is a gift. I know I have a talent for dancing, and it would be a damn shame to let it go to waste. I think a part of that inspiration was fueled by a core belief: if I achieve greatness in dance, then I can finally make a man love me. Maybe this guy I’m trying to get over will love me if I do something BIG, like win ballroom competitions and make my mark in the DanceSport world. I know that’s a fallacy, I know it’s a delusional thought, the product of emotional reasoning, which is often illogical. Man, I am so onto myself, these days. I can almost be my own therapist, and sometimes, I feel like I am.
It’s 9:51pm and the dance floor awaits. Time to chug this Red Bull and get going. That’s it for Day 4! Talk to you guys tomorrow!
10:54pm
Well, I’m back guys, and I got a lot to say. The night didn’t go as planned. I headed up to deck 18 Skywalker Club and was ready to bust out my Latin moves and get some good videos. My parents were already waiting for me when I got there. They sat on the barstools right next to the dance floor with phones in hand, ready to record. When I arrived, the club was still silent, as DJ Anthony was still getting set up. I took the chance to sip on my Red Bull and get mentally ready to put on a show… but for who? There was hardly anyone at the club, save for a few groups of old people. The first song plays, and I don’t really like it… it’s some kind of happy-go-lucky Caribbean music, and I wasn’t feeling it, my style is more drama-drama and angsty. The second song, Despacito, was more my jam. So I quickly strapped on my heels, took a breath, and walked onto the floor. The floor was empty, and I just felt… off. I don’t like dancing alone unless it’s intentional (like private dance parties in my living room to let off steam). I came in with a purpose, to film good videos for social media content, which is all a part of my dance teaching business brand. Little did I know how clueless my parents were when it came to filming! Dad filmed horizontal, which is a big no-no for Instagram and TikTok, and he didn’t know how to use flash on video, which I thought was common sense, but I guess old people don’t get it. (He’s a doctor, so it kinda blows my mind that he didn’t know how to work an Android camera). Mom was in charge of taking pictures, but action shots are not her speciality (or mine, for that matter). I wasn’t happy while dancing, I didn’t smile, I didn’t feel free. It all felt so… fake. Like I was performing to a void. If it was strictly for social and marketing, then it was even more pointless— people don’t give a shit. I dance better with others dancing with me, and I was all alone on that floor, and I could feel my mom’s judgmental eyes penetrating my every move. That’s just her— every time I get up and perform or teach a class that she’s attending, it’s like she gets second-hand nervous for me, and she is NOT the friendly face in the audience. She watches me with Hawkeyes, daring me to make a mistake, and it’s honestly so awkward and uncomfortable when she watches me. Flashback to childhood, when I refused to let her watch my gymnastics competitions because she made me nervous. Tonight brought back all those past hurts, and all from a stupid Latin dance party in an empty club on a geriatric cruise. It brought up some deeper issues, like how I wish my parents were a little different, a little more similar to me. They aren’t the kind of parents who whoop and cheer when their child takes the stage. They’re very introverted and conservative, and neither of them are stage performers. That’s totally forgivable, but it does make it challenging when you crave their support— they, of all people, the ones who gave you life, should be cheering you on. I guess their support is more tacit— they showed up, after all, at 10pm to the club to take videos of me dancing. They care, they really do. But my relationship with them has always been tough, for many reasons that I won’t get into in this post. It’s hard as an adult living at home. I see them all the time, and that’s why I purposely try to stay out of the house as much as I can, so I don’t have to collide with them. Too much collision causes entropy, which depletes energy and exhausts the system, and by the laws of physics, it’s energy you can never get back. I’m grateful for my job that forces me out of the house. I prefer it that way, and my relationship with my parents— mom in particular— is better when there’s some healthy distance between the two of us. The first couple days of the cruise were magical— no problems with parents, no fighting, just good times and good vibes. Now, I’m kinda wishing this cruise would be over so I can get back in the swing of things. I need to focus on building my business empires, finding love, growing as a dancer. I can’t do any of that while stuck on a cruise ship, fighting with my parents. I know I need to relax, that’s the whole point of this trip… but judgment seems to be the theme of my family. I am forever the black sheep, the only girl, the only one with a mental illness, the only one who is pursuing a vastly divergent career path from what was expected of me. Just tonight at dinner, my mom was being all nostalgic about how “cute” and “innocent” I used to be, as a kid. “You were such a good girl,” she said. The unspoken follow-up: “What happened to you?”
That is so, so painful for me to hear. I failed her, I disappointed her, I did not turn out as she expected or hoped. I am not a good girl, not anymore. I have issues, I am damaged, I am so far off the beaten path she just can’t believe it. I, for one, think I’m doing great, all things considered. I don’t need her approval to feel worthy. But do I wish she were a little more proud of me? A little less worried? Of course. She’s the closest person to me, of course I want to make her happy.
I need some air. I need to breathe. I need to walk, or work out, or move, to feel better about myself. All of this negativity is making me want to isolate. I can’t talk about it with my brothers, because they’re too logical and jump to problem-solving mode and intellectualize my big feelings that yes, are often irrational and overblown, and my venting sessions with them always ends with them siding with mom and dad (you guys don’t live with them anymore, so of course you don’t understand how I feel). I never feel better after venting to my brothers, they are not a safe space. The guy I’m trying to get over was a safe space. But he’s gone, too. Not really, but it feels that way. I have other friends at home I could in theory call over WhatsApp, but I’m really not feeling like talking about my feelings, it’s just gonna make me feel worse, I don’t want to drag others into my pit of despair. So I write about them, instead. Sorry for ending today’s post on a negative note. Let’s not do that– here are some positives and gratitudes from today!
- I splurged on self-care with 2 steam/sauna sessions and a deep tissue massage. YUM.
- I worked out 2.5 times. Great job! Training doesn’t stop just because I’m on vacay. Good for you, Bel!
- I got to see a bit of Vancouver with my new friend, Yogi. Still get a kick out of his name… I wish I were named Yogi. Yay for new friends and new destinations!
- I ate some good food– lots of carbs, Italian food, my fav! And I don’t feel guilty about it because I worked out a bunch. Even if it didn’t, I still shouldn’t feel guilty… I’m on vacay!
- I may not have thrown down on the dance floor tonight for Latin night, but I hit a personal dance session in the gym’s studio just now. Just dancing to my favorite songs.
- Discovered a new 90s banger: “The Call” by Backstreet Boys. Give it a listen, it’s super catchy.
- Splurged on vanilla soft serve ice cream and 2 slices of pepperoni pizza. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not guilty. It was delicious.
- Grateful to be on this cruise and for this respite from work. I’ve been truly working too hard. This rest was much-needed. I will enjoy the next 3 days and savor the precious moments I spend with my precious, perfectly imperfect family.
Feeling better now. Have a good night, y’all.
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