The Girl Without A Face

As our vacation is winding to a close, I can’t help but pause this morning and think about how lucky I am. Usually every morning before I begin writing I’ll have a sentence or a moment pop into my head as a theme I’ll use to write about for the day. I could choose the insane driving, or the fact that we had to take a detour walking back to our hotel last night because our street was marked off with crime tape, but all I can think about is how lucky I am.

I’m not perfect, I’m not grateful in every moment. I hate when I get the type of anxiety that elevates my emotions. It reminds me of my father. I usually get that while driving, but like him if I feel like there is imminent danger around, a sense of calm washes over me. Everything is heightened, yet everything is clear. I suppose a good example is when something suddenly happens to someone else that needs immediate attention. I react with a solution calmly, right away, just like my dad used to. My son broke out in hives the other day, my guess is from the heat but who knows. He told me in the middle of a store. I told him it’s ok, we got in the car, went to the closest CVS. Got non-drowsy anti-allergy pills. Some calamine lotion. Water. Periodically I’d ask him how he was, externally calm, internally prepping for worst case scenario. That usually never happens though, it’s just a skill I acquired in childhood. To be on high alert. It’s helpful sometimes. Either way it’s just part of who I am and I’m learning on this trip how to talk myself through certain things. Almost like the parent I never had.

I can see glimpses of my son taking it all in, and not to pat myself on the back but I can see glimpses of my son thinking I’m pretty cool for taking him here. For driving through the streets alone, him as my navigation (with the help of my phone). For figuring out the parking that seemingly has unspoken rules. For guiding us back to the hotel past angry glares and side street drug deals. I’m not sure most parents or tourists would feel comfortable accomplishing all that we did, so not only am I grateful that I did it, that I built up my confidence, I’m also grateful that I have the means to even take this trip in the first place.

Do I have debt? Sure. Doesn’t everyone? But my mentality is I’ll make it back and this is the time I need to be exploring with my son. And I don’t want it to stop here if I’m being honest, I want to think about our next trip when we get home. I want to give him special experiences to take with him into the world. And quite frankly I want those experiences too.

So I sat outside this morning, on the outdoor patio of the hotel. Overlooking the city streets waking up as I type this post, and I think about how lucky I am. I am so lucky that I was able to recover from my mental breakdown, to the point where in just under two years I’m traveling like this on my own with my son. I’m lucky that I opened my work laptop just to check in, I cleaned up everything in 10 minutes, submitted a sale yesterday. I know I’m going back to a job that not only pays just about the same (hopefully more soon) but is 10x less stressful than what I used to do every day. I’m lucky that about 8 weeks ago I quit smoking and about 6 weeks ago I started working out again. It’s like somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I had to at least do that to prepare for this trip. Being here showed me that I still have work to do on my stamina, but it gave me a good gauge on where I am. It’s not where I was, but also not where I know I’m headed. This trip has been motivating to me in that way. I’m lucky I have a son who is so calm, kind, caring, loving, appreciative. Who I love traveling with. I hope he understands I know I’m not perfect but I try my best.

After all we’ve done and seen on this trip that’s the best part, spending time with him. We’ve laughed a lot. Had to work together to find our way. Had highs and lows, mostly highs though. That’s something else I’ve noticed, you tend to only remember the good times, the funny times, the moments you laugh about. It’s ok not to be perfect, it’s ok that sometimes I get stressed out if I can’t find a parking spot. That moment will pass, and the other memories are what will last for both of us. I’m lucky.