A Return to Margaritaville

There was a time, not so long ago, when I was profoundly depressed. I was in a school program that I found dull, I was living in filth, I was treating my body as if it was a never ending shell and I filled it full of food from morning until night. I couldn't live the way that I was, but there didn't seem a way out.

At one point during those years, I was given a school assignment to complete. I created a small vacation home that was just for me. I named it after one of my favorite songs that always helped me through the day. I spent a ton of time on this place, thinking of every detail, living and breathing the spaces whenever I could fly away to that dream place. It was set in one of the most pleasant places I could think of- The Carolina Coast- where the sand was warm and the stars reflected on the water throughout the night. It was my space to retreat to. It was a very original design and I would have received an A if I'd actually done the required presentation.

After the class was over, my project expanded. The 900 square feet morphed into more than 3,000 and then to 6,000+ total square feet. I began taking bits and pieces of design elements I was exposed to and adding them to this home. I had a three wall sliding glass door in the living space, a Spanish tiled kitchen, a Japanese garden/courtyard surrounded on four sides by bedrooms and other retreat areas, red clay tiles on the roof, a stylistic office to one side done in the Frank Lloyd Wright Unitarian style, a large patio with a kiln for wheel pottery, and a generous oceanfront view. There were thousands upon thousands of details within this house. It became a 3d space that showcased my favorite architecture.

I lived in that space whenever reality was too much for me to bear. When I had to go to the dentist and they’d stick that awful drill in my mouth, I’d run to Margaritaville. When I had a rotten day, I fell asleep dreaming of adventures there. I spent hours and hours there in both my waking life and dream time.

No one was ever at Margaritaville with me. There were no spouses, no children, and no loved ones to ever visit me there. I was alone. Even when I tried to fit someone there, an ex boyfriend for instance, they never seemed to fill the space right with me. I was never sure why.

Last year, I met two people who forever changed my life. I don’t need to revisit the history, as it is available all over this blog. These two people helped crack the ice that surrounded my inner self and they let all of the things out, thawing the best of me that I’d been keeping inside. I felt nearly whole and it was a joyous time. At some point, I realized that I had abandoned Margartitaville in favor of living in the real world near these two people. It dawned on me that it was the building, the site itself that was the problem and not the people that I couldn’t place there.

I’m not going into details about recent events but suffice it to say that I have gambled and lost big-time.

I packed my bags this last week and today I retreated to Margaritaville as I prefer to sleep instead of living in the state that I have found myself in. But the place I have come home to is no longer the same. The buildings are in ruin. The materials that were used throughout the retreat have aged considerably, as if the whole place had been built centuries ago. I stand in the middle of this mess and I don’t know how to put it back together again. I can’t make sense of anything to begin rebuilding it. But I can’t leave either. As I figure out how to rebuild this fantasy world, I have set up a temporary lean-to, and I spend as much time as possible wandering along the beach and listening to the wind blow through the pines near the shore. Sleep is a blissful relief, even when there is no where to go.