The Truth About Discomfort
Those dreams
are so
high up
And I
must stretch
To reach them
I write this from across the Atlantic Ocean on the southern coast of Portugal, also known as the Algarve. We’re staying in a small city called Lagos, which is known for its food, history and striking coastline. It is all just as I had hoped it would be, a place that actually lives up to its Google images. Jake, Luna and I are here all month. Dreamy, right?
Okay, so my original plan was to write about living out your dreams; doing the thing you’ve always said you wanted to do. But I’ve quickly realized that the first phase of living out your dreams, at least for me, is coming face to face with discomfort.
We have been here for just shy of two weeks and my shorts and pants are hanging off of me. Yes, there’s a lot of walking involved and the food is fresh and healthy, but these aren’t the main reason why I’ve lost weight. The truth is that I’ve been so stressed and anxious that I haven’t been able to eat as much as I normally do. I share this as insight into the discomfort I’m experiencing on this trip, a trip that is simultaneously granting me one of my biggest dreams of continued travel.
Backing up to before our departure, Jake and I both had moments of unease and hesitation. I mean, we’re biting off a lot here with our daughter only nineteen months old, our plan to continue working remotely and renting out our home while we’re away (something had to sponsor this!). One of Jake’s biggest worries was the flights, specifically the red eye and I worried about more severe scenarios like the airplane crashing, Luna getting sick or hurt, or a natural disaster (my intrusive thoughts always so rational).
At the airport, Luna did great, but Jake and I were far from relaxed (we often joke that she is a much better traveler than we are). The airport was incredibly stimulating in comparison to our small town back at home and the thought of prepping Luna for bedtime in the airport and on the plane felt unmanageable. But, with the kindness of strangers and just getting all the steps done, one at a time, we managed. Lu eventually fell asleep on the airplane (after watching more tv than she had in her entire life) and Jake and I finally relaxed into our seats with Lu in the middle. That is, until she woke up in a RAGE! Disoriented, screaming and crying, absolutely inconsolable, I had to lock the two of us in the bathroom so everyone else could try to continue to sleep. Jake’s worst fear checked off; a worst case scenario under his belt. Little did we know, it would be my turn the following week.
Alright, I’d love to share all the details of our short time in Lisbon before taking the train down to Lagos, but for the sake of getting to the point, I’ll fast-forward to my worst case scenario that, sadly, did happen (spoiler, everyone is okay).
Last Friday night, the three of us were picking up some food at a restaurant down the road from our rental. We had been on the go all weeklong and decided a cozy night with some takeout (or “takeaway” as they say here) was just what we needed. As we were waiting for our food, Lu played toy cars with a little boy, but suddenly felt shy and ran away, out the door and towards the road with an approaching vehicle. Jake sprinted after her, grabbing her in time, but on their way back in, Lu tripped and hit her head on a ceramic plant pot. I’ll spare you the details (and myself from reliving them), but her fall required an emergency visit to the medical clinic around the block.
This was our first emergency with Luna ever, so the fact it was happening in a foreign country, with a language barrier at a medical facility that just didn’t compare to the ones we were used to back at home, left me feeling absolutely panicked.
The doctor applied glue to Lu’s wound (a child this young requires anesthesia for stitches, which they didn’t offer at this hospital), just above her right eye, and instructed us not to let her touch or rub the cut for 24 hours. “But what about when she’s sleeping?” I asked. “She moves around, rubs her eyes, she really can’t touch the cut at all?” The doctor explained that it could remove the glue, which could reopen the wound. It all felt so impossible, but wait for it… it gets worse!
That very night, Jake came down with a fever and stomach bug. This impossible mission of keeping Lu from touching her swollen and bloody cut fell solely on me. I was so intensely overwhelmed, but there was no other option.
I stayed up all night, my hand hovering over Lu’s head, blocking her little arms as she moved in her sleep. I didn’t let her roll onto that side, lean on any pillow or rest her head against my body. I wiggled my toes and fingers when my eyes began to flutter shut. Jake slept in the other room, making frequent visits to the bathroom throughout the night. I was in a foreign country with a sick husband, an injured toddler, without our usual support system (grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends), and the nearest legitimate hospital was forty-five minutes away (and no, we don’t have a car rental here). I was bathing in discomfort.
Skipping ahead to right now, as severe weather warnings alert in my phone and news articles cover stories about stranded travelers due to the political issues with TSA, I’m happy to report that Jake and Lu are both on the mend. And as I reflect on all the discomfort I’ve experienced while “living out the life of my dreams” I realize a few things:
Kindness from strangers can settle any anxious stomach, so when you have it in you, be that person for others
When emergencies and uncomfortable situations happen, your only option is to get through them (and you do, somehow)
These experiences of discomfort will force you to grow and stretch, which is partially why I am so drawn to travel in the first place; a sort of exposure therapy for my restless anxiety and worries
Jake and I keep saying to each other, “We didn’t sign up for a vacation, we signed up for an adventure, for this.” While we didn’t know what would happen here, we knew that discomfort was part of what we’d be packing in our suitcases. We knew it would feel different having Luna with us compared to our old days of travel. And even with all of this awareness, we knew that we still really wanted to go for it. Because here is where we grow and feel alive. I see discomfort as a healthy sign that I am living out my dreams. After all, dreaming is a faraway place. I’ve got to stretch to be here.
P.S. Since I’m not active on social media, I rely on the growth of this community to spread in a very organic fashion. If you have not already joined my email community, I invite you to sign up below. By joining, you will be the first to hear about new books, meditations and blog posts. I’ll also share the occasional aha moment that I’m facing. Additionally, I ask that you send this blog post to someone in your life who you think would enjoy it too. I’m glad you’re here and thank you for your support.
