In news that is not truly shocking, I am no longer traveling to Cusco to Arquetopia. I mentioned it to my neurologist again since I wasn’t exactly truthful about the altitude – I just said traveling – and that wasn’t a wise decision. Thus, I made the hard decision to change my trip. Cusco was for a different version of me and that person and that body no longer exists.
I was sitting at lunch with my sister, when suddenly I saw what seemed like genuine concern on her face.
“You know, if you make it to Lima that is good enough. You don’t have to go to Cusco.” She made a good point.
My stomach was in knots about the trip and suddenly there seemed a logical conclusion: Cusco isn’t going to happen and probably shouldn’t. It was a hard pill to swallow and I spent a few days grieving, working on radically accepting what I am actually capable of. Yes, I could technically survive Cusco but I would be in so much pain and struggling so badly that what is the point? To prove something? And proving it to whom? I was pushing through, ignoring my intuition so I could see a land I have dreamt of and meet the people there. Alas, that ship has sailed.
Part of grieving Cusco was finally grieving the life I wasn’t able to live, the one where I was going to be a traveling journalist, going all over the globe seeing the places I had dreamt about as a young girl in my father’s National Geographic magazines. I remember my friend Dana, in fifth grade, had lived in Indonesia and my 10 year old self didn’t even know where Indonesia was. But I quickly learned about their diving scene and assumed I would travel there when I was older.
But I chose a different path in life and became a mom. With that, I don’t think I’d ever given myself the space to grieve the career and path I was on before the wonderful surprise happened that is my magical son.
It all happens the way it’s supposed to. I am so glad I got the opportunity to be this amazing human’s mother. Absolutely no one thought of “mother” when they thought of me at 22 but I managed to fall in love with being the role just as I fell in love with my son.
Life is funny like that. In turn, I got to take and send HIM on adventures while he grew up, even taking him along for a conference in Puerto Rico when he was 11. I struggled financially but managed to give him so many amazing adventures, while also living vicariously through him while graduate school opened up opportunities to enlarge my world.
I think travel is one of the most human things we can do, especially since we are migratory people. It’s good for us to mingle and realize borders are ridiculous and made up. At the end of the day, people just want a conversation, kindness, and to share a meal.
I am scared to travel, scared to adventure alone without my partner, scared my body might will fail me. The answer I recite is to go slow, breathe and just be present. I can do hard things because I have survived the last six years of surgeries and health issues.
I don’t want to talk about my health stuff but it rules my life and I have to manage the conditions like a job. I try to freelance and do projects, but I have to keep my own pace. Projects are much slower these days but being creative and working feels good. I just published a recent article with Queer Kentucky and it feels so good to create something while rejoining the outside world.
I am not sure what the future holds and, more so, what I am actually capable of with my conditions. However, I am excited to find out whatever that may be. Life looks different at 45 then I thought it would but I am the luckiest person you’ll ever meet: still walking, still insured, newly married with a wonderful family and my own radio show. I am proud of what I have built from the wreckage.