Mexico

I’m tired.  Right now, I think I’m almost more tired than when I left for Mexico.  Yes, that’s right – I am almost more tired after vacation than before my free vacation.

Why?  More and more I learn that I must respect those parts of myself that demand I listen.  I am an empath.  I feel everything, and I feel heavily.  I appreciate the articles out there about my species, and it does make me feel less insane when I’m in it, but it’s also very true.  While I am extremely outgoing and socialize well, I recharge entirely by myself in quiet and solitude.

There are no exceptions.  I must sleep 8-10 hours, no exceptions.  I must spend time alone in reflection and time alone just being alone.  I must spend time revisiting my emotions and revisiting my day.  I do that in writing and in prayer and meditation.  Maybe that’s why I love running without music by myself for hours on end.  When I don’t do these things for myself?  I suffer.  A lot.

And so, I suffered.  Not because anybody did anything wrong or that the stage wasn’t set for a perfectly relaxed time, but because I felt compelled to be with people that I’m not usually and I felt compelled to partake most of the time.  I traveled alone, and unless I wanted room service and to hang out in my suite by myself, I had to be around a lot of other people.  I chose to go on excursions that while super fun, were very social and took time to get there and were either half or full days of doing.  

Everyone was so inclusive, and everyone was also drinking.  A lot.  And while it doesn’t necessarily bother me, I also don’t love being around it.  I don’t love the increased volume or eccentric tones as people continue to drink.  I don’t love the repetitive conversations or completely unrelated squirrel moments.  I don’t love the touching and the leaning and the swaying.  I don’t love the incessant talk about oneself, or the incessant talk about how you adore and love me.  I choose not to be around alcohol, but here didn’t present much of a choice, and I wasn’t used to it or expecting it.  So as a result, I was on guard without even realizing it.

I also had to stay present and focused with the food.  It was amazing.  And I am proud of myself for going and experiencing as much of it as I could.  But it wasn’t easy.  I feel my safest when I’m weighing and measuring and tracking.  I feel my safest when I know what’s going in, so I can predict what’s going out.  I feel my safest when I wake up in the morning feeling restored and rested and lean, not over-polluted and puffy and hungover.  I feel my safest when I’m in control.

And while I could’ve packed foods and taken a scale and ordered grilled fish and vegetables and rice for every meal, I didn’t want to do that.  I took my food coach with me and stayed close to her.  I checked in constantly and mixed and matched my meals.  Not surprisingly, my favorite items were salads and fruit!  But the authentic chips, cheese and quesadilla made right in front of me from scratch weren’t all that terrible either.  I paid attention to how I was feeling and did my best to stay mindful while also open and flexible.  Some meals felt better than others, but the experience overall was wonderful and I can say I’ve come a long way with respecting myself and the foods that make me feel best, while also making room for eating for joy.

I moved every day because moving makes me happy.  I moved as I would at home, and probably a bit more because the resort was sprawling.  And that’s also why I’m tired.  My resting HR has increased 13 bpm in one week.  In the past I would’ve assumed that meant that I was losing capacity, not taking care of myself or getting sick.  While the latter may be true (relax, I’m fine), the body does mysterious things to balance itself.  I was eating a lot of food that I normally wouldn’t.  I was socializing way more than I normally do.  I was on a different time zone.  I had 2 days of flying across the country and further and I do not like flying.  The weather was blessedly very different.  I was on edge even though I guess I didn’t have any reason to be.  And that edge was heavy.

I’m home now, and after a few days and a weekend, things are back in order.  I’m still a bit tired, but not as tired as I was.  I’m acutely aware that my tiredness, which is the trigger for all things drama and unreasonable, could easily seep into stories about how I don’t receive enough attention in my relationship anymore, how I’m not sexy and need to hurry up the leaning out process instead of just focusing on staying well, how I need to close more deals faster to ensure I make trip again next year and how I need to just keep on it.  I could let the tiredness bleed into stories that aren’t true, stories that rob us all of the ability to be present and grateful and quiet.

And while I loved my free vacation that I worked hard to earn, I am grateful to be back home with buds budding, dogs sunbathing and boyfriend here to listen to my banter.