a Fuck You, but really, a Thank You.

Occasionally, we encounter people that cause disruption in our seemingly steady lives. Most of the time we walk away with the hopes of them never returning or crossing us again. We can’t help but think about the trouble or pain they’ve caused and the changes we must do to reset ourselves.

That reset, though, sometimes can be carelessly self-destructive or a minor set back. However, if the wound burns just enough at the right time, it may spark the energy to change course, possibly into a trajectory we may have never imagined.

While a good “fuck you” is always appropriate for those who piss us off, a gracious “thank you” feels like the best middle finger I could possibly gift at this time.

Dear Ex of Mine, two years ago I caught you sexting a little girl less than half your age. It was a tough night, one of pain and heartbreak. By the end of the seventh day following this discovery, I would do everything in my power to avoid wasting another day and move forward as quickly as possible. It was at that precise time in my life I had no direction other than staring down at a blank sheet and writing down a 100 things I needed, wanted or had to do. Anything to get me busy AF.


Those were the goals that would propel me into another world of thought and creativity. I became a blogger. I became a traveler. I became fearless. And I wanted more.


I want to thank the girl in Houston that texted you that night. I found a strength within and the perfect burn from my vulnerability to ignite a new way of life.

With that said, I have more fuck you’s for thank you’s, but, at this time, my hands are full here in South Africa. I’ve got a development session with my fellow travelers tomorrow night, a hike on Lion’s Head Thursday then the annual Cape Town Oyster and Champagne Festival this weekend.

Life got busy, I’m doing shit.

‘Til Next, Elisa

PS. Life doesn’t get interesting on its own.




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