When I boarded that plane to Hawaii, I was chasing sunshine, ocean breezes, and maybe a little peace. I didn’t know I’d come back transformed. What started as a vacation quickly became a deeply personal journey a true recovery glow up. This wasn’t just a trip–it was a reckoning of the heart–and I want to share what I saw, what I learned, and how I was changed.
Beauty Beyond The Brochure
I kicked things off with deep dives into Hawaiian culture. I spent three and a half hours at the Bishop Museum and it still wasn’t enough. The exhibits have Polynesian heritage, royal history, and natural science. Then I wandered the Honolulu Museum of Art for five hours and still didn’t see every gallery. Every brushstroke, artifact, and story I soaked it all in. I wasn’t just seeing Hawaii, I was feeling it as I walked through time, color, and tradition.
Yes, I did the touristy things and loved them. I went whale watching, spotted a sea turtle, and was lucky enough to see one of just 75 endangered Hawaiian monk seals left on the island. I also caught the Friday night fireworks at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, a sparkling celebration that lit up the sky and my spirit. But Hawaii’s beauty isn’t just what you see. It’s how it makes you feel: calm, connected, present.
The Part No One Puts on Postcards
It wasn’t all pristine beaches and peaceful hikes. There’s another Hawaii that doesn’t show up in Instagram feeds. I saw people living on sidewalks and openly using drugs. One man was injecting on the side of the road. Another was smoking something off foil outside a store. I never once smelled marijuana in the air, but I did smell desperation.
I made friends with one homeless man. I’d talk to him daily, and we’d share lunch. He told me how the cost of living has skyrocketed ($1 million for the average two-person home in Honolulu). People work two, sometimes three jobs, and still sleep in parks or tents. Some are veterans. Some have untreated mental illness. Many are simply lost. And it made me realize: I could’ve been them. That could’ve been me.
That’s when I knew I have a gift. I’ve mastered empathy. But sometimes empathy doesn’t feel like a gift. It drains you. You absorb stories you can’t fix. Still, I’d rather feel too much than nothing at all.
Culture, Connection, and the Real Meaning of Aloha
I walked through Chinatown, one of the largest in the U.S., and learned it once served as the Red Light District during World War II. At Pearl Harbor, I visited the USS Arizona Memorial, where 10 quarts of oil still leak into the water each day (a haunting reminder of the lives lost). The Aloha Tower, once a beacon for ships, was painted in camouflage after the bombing to keep it hidden. Hawaii’s past holds pain and resilience in equal measure.
Culture runs deep here. I learned that hula is not just a luau dance—it’s a sacred family tradition. On Sundays, mothers, daughters, and grandmothers gather after church to practice. The lei isn’t just a pretty floral necklace—it’s a symbol of connection and honor. And aloha isn’t just hello and goodbye. It’s a way of being. A way of loving.
What I Took Home
This wasn’t just a trip. It was a transformation. I came home with a renewed sense of gratitude, a deeper well of empathy, and a sobering awareness of how close struggle can sit beside beauty. This experience taught me that beauty and brokenness can exist in the same space. That recovery isn’t linear—it’s layered. Sometimes, the most meaningful growth comes when you’re far from home, faced with things you can’t un-see.
I went to Hawaii thinking I’d recharge. I came home knowing that healing isn’t always glamorous, and growth doesn’t always come in quiet meditation. Sometimes it shows up on a park bench, next to a person society forgot.
Hawaii changed me. It reminded me that healing doesn’t always look like spa days and smoothies. Sometimes, it’s sitting with someone who has nothing, and realizing you still have everything to give. This is my glow-up. Not polished. Not perfect. But real.
💋NR (follow me on Facebook & Instagram)
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