Lessons Learned in 2019
Welcome to my random musings about the world, on a weekly-to-occasional basis.
In the spirit of December wrap-ups and January new beginnings, I offer my list of Things I Learned in 2019.
We left the US in May with a plane ticket to Peru, and an apartment booked through mid-July. It was our intention to learn to embrace our spontaneous side, picking destinations on the fly, in the moment. That’s how lots of digital nomads (*cough* young digital nomads) function. It turns out we don’t have a spontaneous side. Give me some internet and I will plan a delightful year of travel. Tell me to wing it, and I will curl up under the bed and cry. That is who I am, and I see no need to change.
While we’re planning, I need to be more assertive about where we go. If not, my beloved spouse will drag me to all the places that it turns out I never wanted to visit. No, I’m not going to tell you where. Just because I don’t want to go there doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.
Possibly related, but maybe not: after twenty years on anxiety medication, I tapered off it this year. I’m not so sure that was a good plan, and I reserve the right to change my mind. Perhaps even spontaneously.
Also possibly related: I think it’s time to do some research concerning hormone replacement therapy. We’ve reached the point where my hot flashes are governing our destinations and accommodation, which seems a bit out of whack.
I desperately miss seeing my children. I’m not sure how to solve that one—it turns out the empty-nest adjustment is hard, even for those of us who no longer have a nest.
The things that frighten me most are not the things I expect. Protests, teargas, fires, pickpockets, flat tires, getting stranded, being alone in a strange place—these are not the things that bother me. Losing my mobility? My hearing, my eyesight, my balance, or my doctor’s approval? Those are the things that wake me up at night. I think it might be because I’m more realistic than I used to be. I have finally realized that the real risks are not the ones we read about in the headlines, but the boring ones that no one really wants to focus on, like high blood pressure, or driving.
I am still however, unreasonably frightened of sharks. But only when I actually see them, so that’s progress.
Other than sharks, I love-love-love seeing animals in the wild. That was such a surprise—I’ve never thought of myself as an animal person. But last January, when our youngest and I drove into a national park in South Africa and a family of warthogs crossed the road in front of us, I laughed so hard I thought I’d rupture something. I was smitten. I want to see All The Wild Animals. (Even the sharks.)
Stray dogs, though, or even just free-range dogs who aren’t exactly stray but are definitely loose, are NOT the kind of wild animals I want to see. The next time we head to a small, rural community that has lots of dogs (and we have such a place planned in February), I’m going to take a walking stick. I’m calling it my emotional support stick.
I boast about being an introvert, and I definitely am, and I boast about not needing any more human contact than just my husband, but I think maybe I need more than that. I worry that I am doing myself a disservice, living like this—I’m not very good at staying in touch with people, and I fear I’ll regret that eventually.
I’m happier when I’m writing.
I would like to think that this life is making me a more tolerant and open-minded person, but sometimes I wonder if it’s doing just the opposite. Recently I have found myself judging customs and cultural differences in ways that make me a little ashamed of myself. I don’t want to be the traveler who leaves home and complains that home is better. I have a working theory about why I’m behaving this way, and what to do about it, but I don’t think I should claim to have it figured out. I might not. It might be something I just have to work on, in the long, difficult, messy process that is personal growth.
What about you? What sort of personal growth is awaiting you in this brand-new decade?
Take care,
Lisa
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