A number of you have asked how I’ve been, or said they’ve been checking my blog for updates only to find radio silence. The truth is that I’m fine but the healing is slow. I’m tired. Very tired. Like All The Goddamn Time. I’m also nervous. I’m nervous that something else will go wrong, that any medical interventions may have left lasting issues inside my body that may come back to haunt me. Blood clots anyone? My doctor simply prescribed another pill. Ah, Mexico…
I’m not usually a hypochondriac so I think this generalized anxiety is pure post-traumatic stress. This common and “simple” medical procedure shook me to my core, and the thought of any further complications sends me close to full-fledged anxiety attack. I do not ever want to be readmitted to a hospital.
Then there’s just the blah of it all. As some of you may know from similar long-term recovery processes – or from chronic suffering of any ailment – it gets tiring to be asked how you are (or told that you look great!) when in fact you’re still feeling pretty shitty. No one wants to hear that you still feel like that pile of rocks that the dogs come pee on. Plus, my jeans are so tight these days, I feel like one of the teen girls at Victoria Robbin’s School. That’s of course from my iron intake in the form of chocolate covered raisins. We do what we must to heal.
The truth is that while I’m an optimist by nature and I try to always stay positive, feeling so physically drained is difficult for me to get used to. I sometimes need to reach out to others who’ve experienced similar surgeries just to hear, once again and then to have it repeated, that yes, it is indeed normal to still be dragging ass. And it might be normal for up to a year! Oh, baby Jesus, please no. But this is what I hear as my internal organs are still rebuilding, healing, reconnecting.
So my exercise is in patience. Mostly being patient and kind with myself. Allowing myself not to be 100 percent. Allowing myself to have an afternoon nap or just to stay home when all the others are burning the festive midnight oil. It’s letting go of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), and recognizing that the couch or the bed is my friend, even when the day is beautiful and the sun is out. I have never in my life felt so slowed down; for someone whose nickname was ‘energizer bunny’ you can imagine the identity crisis. Plus, I’m supposed to be the one who inspires and excites, who makes people dream of adventures in other lands and asks me how to do it. I miss that girl, and I want her back.
I also have to be patient with others, and maybe my short temper in the face of bullshit is the healthiest part of this experience. When I’m exhausted and want nothing more than a nap but I’m Still the one in negotiations who remembers details, meetings and agreements that others forget, I have almost no tolerance at all. In fact, I walked away from a deal I had been counting on for months because the person I was dealing with showed little to no integrity. In the past I might have let more things go, found different approaches and made unnecessary concessions, taken on more of someone’s bullshit even in the face of mounting evidence not to. But with my energy and patience levels so low, I simply walked away (More on this in another exciting post about real estate in Mexico).
I’ve been hesitant to write this post, waiting for the great veil of fatigue to lift and the airiness of energy renewal to sweep me off my feet. But it’s not here quite yet, so I figured I should just let people know what’s up. I promise more uplifting posts to come.
Meanwhile, San Miguel is beautiful. The bright purple Jacaranda trees are in full bloom, casting a purple hue throughout the city. Aiden is about to turn 12 and we’ll embark on a great Komodo Dragon-viewing trip in his honor. I’m prepacking my Vitamin C tabs and B complex liquid, my immune booster and sleeping pills. Another adventure awaits and I know I’ll just have to take things really slow.
Now off I go to take a little nap.