Master of My Domain: More Difficult Than You Might Think

I don’t know when it will ever get better for me.  When the self doubt will evaporate, disappear, as quickly as it appeared in the first place somewhere between childhood and adolescence. I just turned 44 so the probability that these constant self deprecating voices that uninvitingly sneak into my consciousness will just suddenly go away now, is pretty slim.

We’ve been in Mexico for almost two months.  It was a trip I very much was looking forward to; get away from my world for a bit; push myself to be someone else for awhile, and I have.  I have done all of those things and I should be proud that I accomplished mostly what I set out to do, but I have found that putting yourself in the uncomfortable is hard, doesn’t get easier with time, and causes ions of heart palpitations, sweaty palms, and a nervous twitch that has now started in my left shoulder.  Needless to say, when G told me he had to go to Chicago for a few days on business I thought, “Oh great, now I have to navigate everything by myself.”  Which, I of course, know that I can do, but it’s so very hard and gives me a headache.  I have to preface this by saying that the people of Mexico have been nothing but gracious, kind, and have gone out of their way to help me except perhaps the yoga guy, who I may be growing on because the last two yoga classes he greeted me by name. I call this progress.

G left Wednesday afternoon and I had pretty much planned out my Thursday and stuck to the plan, mostly.

Here was my day in pictures.

Two main things bothered me about the day, however, and I realized my mistakes too late and am still thinking about them and kicking myself for making them.  First, I paid Areli, the nail tech, in pesos.  Always pay in pesos if you have them, the exchange rate is better that way.  She had to give me change. For whatever reason Spanish numbers are difficult for me to grasp, especially once you get past the 100s and then trying to focus on mental mathing, my brain just screamed it’s all just too much and shut itself off so honestly I have no idea if she gave me the correct change, but I took the money with a shaky hand, panicked and gave her 20 pesos for a tip.  Just so you know twenty pesos is like the equivalent of two dollars, actually a little less than that and I know that  she deserved more having done a good job and even helping me with my broken Spanish. I have been obsessing about not tipping what she deserved for days now.

Second, you know how I said to always pay in pesos, well it would have been nice for me to follow that advice.  After getting a facial I venmo'd the salon, which is in dollars, Venmo being an American company.  I still paid less than I would have in the U.S., but my amazing deal turned out to be not as amazing as I previously had thought. And this always happens. The moment I feel the shining light of confidence, I make a choice that negates those bright feelings.

But I did manage to ease my downtrodden heart a bit when I came across this lovely restaurant in a little boutique hotel right on the beach.  It was called Lido, Cocina de Playa. The two for one mezcalitas lured me in.  The view was beautiful, the staff amazing, and I got to write with the beach as my backdrop, drink something froufrou which paired nicely with my froufrou salad.   (G hates places like this and I secretly or not so secretly love them.)

The next day wasn’t nearly as nice, however, my Spanish class ended, it was bittersweet.  This week I took the four hour option with the cutest teacup of a girl I have ever seen, appropriately named Elsa.  She was from Malaysia.  And Gwen who lives in Puerto Vallarta half the time and in the States the other half joined the class as well.  It was a really fun week with the two of them.  Elsa insisted we take a picture on the last day. This caused me to think about the different cultures and the people that they raise. Elsa was warm, kind, wanted everyone to know what an amazing time we had together. The German, who took the class with me the first week, was a bit cold, a bit uppity and when the class was over looked me up and down before half heartedly yelling over one shoulder to have a nice life. I believe she really did want this for me, it was just how she went about saying it that was a bit off putting.

To be clear I thought I looked way better this day than this picture would indicate or maybe it's because I'm standing next to Elsa. My dress had somehow gotten twisted and don't even ask me about the weird green thing in my hair.

After many a heartfelt goodbye I had already scheduled another painful massage by Maria.

A bit later…

G and I met a couple from Arizona several weeks ago who are also wanting to move to Mexico full time. When I say G and I, I really mean G for I doubt I would have started a conversation with anyone. They knew that I was alone so invited me to sushi. It was so very sweet of them and we had a great time. There was no awkward lull in conversations and it was nice to trade stories about moving to another country and the mutual things that can happen when one attempts such a thing.

It's refreshing to find people that you identify with, especially strangers, but somehow I did. This is Teri, former librarian, red wine lover, and someone who has a similar social battery to mine.

G came back the next day and I feel like I can finally breathe again. I realized how difficult it really is to take care of myself, without a backup, although his parents just live 20 minutes away and promised that if I needed anything they would be at the ready. But to navigate all situations solo, without my gregarious husband blazing a path forward, was something that proved difficult or at least it did on the inside. Just simple things like taking myself to lunch or dinner made me incredibly nervous. There were a few times that I would have just rather made a deli sandwich and called it a day, than to have to be the master of my domain, something that is more challenging than it sounds and if you ask G, he would tend to agree with you. Taking care of me is more difficult that one might think. I'm just glad that he is up for the challenge.