The Spell of San Cristobal de Las Casas

They say when you fall in love, it's like fireworks. But falling in love isn't always bright fiery lights and explosions, sometimes it is subtle and grows like stepping inside after walking home in the snow to curl up next to a blazing fire; comforting and more like an easy defrosting. Our love for San Cristobal de Las Casas has been some of both.

Our initial freezing cold visit to Las Casas was filled with brilliant food, warm colored, well lived in buildings and maze like meandering streets. The native people draped in brightly colored weavings reminded me of Guatemala, a place very special to my heart. The city's center felt hidden from the rest of the world as you turned off the busy streets of the new growth to skim by pastures and twist and turn your way into the old worn stone streets at the heart of this high elevation gem. Perched overlooking the tile roofs from our hotel, there was no way to glimmer the treasures hidden below, the streets being so tightly tucked in you couldn't dream of the lively lights that welcome pedestrians down below. 

Each doorway seemed to hide a unique world within the world of Las Casas, a curious journey into Alice and Wonderland or for those familiar with it, Meow Wolf... only without the psychedelic influence of either. You stroll down the touristy main street with it's competing music screaming from bars and choose a random seeming door flanked by potted trees and fall into an elegant multi-level sophisticated mini neighborhood with a bakery and cafe, several wonderful restaurants boasting flavors from around the world, beautiful jewels sparkle in shop windows and low and behold, there is even a wine bar. Every new street in Las Casas seems to offer these escapes into wonderful new environments and the discoveries seem to be limitless. A market place full of artistic wonders sprung up before us one day, an amber museum secluded in an old monastery was our delight another day and a specialty wine shop nestled in a forgotten side street enveloped us on yet another day. 

It seems strange to chose to return to Las Casas after some of our dazzling hot spots, we know. Spending the bulk of your time in a high elevation, cold climate place when back home IS a high elevation cold place is crazy, but here we are and it is glorious. Our new home for the month is a large stone oasis, a literal secret garden that keeps the entire world a dream away. The brightly painted walls are reminders that we are in Las Casas while the stone and dense wood structure wrap around us suggesting influences of Italy or France. The elaborate gardens encircle the home with exquisite flowers falling over everything while alluring paths tease your imagination into fairy tales. The fire places in each cozy seating area cackle and whisper to you as you start to forget that there is anywhere else on the planet other than right here. Even the constant blasts from the local celebrations filled with fireworks seem dulled in this bubble. We have tried to venture from the property, but the magical spell it has cast is strong and we find ourselves spending day after day simply soaking it in. 

Our family has been needing to heal. The depth of pain our daughter was in as she battled deep depression ricocheted into Jesse and I like a silver bullet. The struggle I have had as I come to terms with another life altering disease has felt crushing to our family unit that relies on me to be the pillar. And the strain of it all has driven my husband to take drastic measures...ie this trip, stress reflecting back to us as he worries horribly about his girls. So as we slowly defrost from trauma, we warm ourselves to the curious magic of Las Casas, the fireworks exploding nearby as reminders that a love story has indeed begun.

...to be continued. And as always, don't forget to Wine First!

Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Screamed My Grief

I left Palenque in a mood. You probably caught that from my last post and my negative comments about our time there. I was probably unfairly rough on the seedy little city, after all not all areas can be full of charm and culture. The chaos and filth did bring images to mind of Dante's 7 circles of hell, but it wasn't all horrible. The tacos, of which Jesse has focused his vacation in Mexico around, were some of the best. The area was also known for exceptional fire cooked chicken, which I very much enjoyed. In addition, with the guidance of our chef friend who was born there and happened to also find himself on vacation in the area, lead us to a stone street with cool cafes and sassy little restaurants that hinted at a side hidden off the obvious streets. But what I discovered there, more than anything else, was a serious bout of pain and I realize just how much pain can filter my view of the world.

A friend recently texted me, surprised to find us returning to the coldest area we have explored in Mexico for a long stay, remarking that I looked so happy in the warm places. My quick response has sat with me for days, an attempt to be sarcastic and funny, I responded to my friend with "I'm not happy anywhere, I'm still stuck with me". And while I do absolutely agree with the sentiment, happiness is not found externally, for some reason, it seems this statement is reflecting my life in new ways. As the words roll over and over in my mind, like the ripples in a lake circling out from a sinking stone, each a new glimpse of a relationship expectation or a goal still unachieved, it shines brighter and clearer. The longer I sit with it, I find myself riding waves of anger and I realize that there were two days toward the end of our time in Palenque that I had been trying to harness my anger, stuff it down and ignore it. Obviously that didn't work and it came out sideways all over my family and poor Palenque. 

I've struggled for years with reckoning expectations of various relationships and their reality, sometimes painfully reminded by small acts of nothingness that scream the truth of what that relationship really is. Am I making sense? Having been deeply ill once before, this train of escaping souls from my life is very familiar. People have a hard time with chronic pain and don't know how to deal with someone that is inconsistent, sometimes jolly, sometimes depressed, sometimes totally normal, and I get that. I've seen this a lot, and I don't blame you if you are one of those that would rather stand over my grave one day and say "I wish I'd gone to see her one last time or reached out a little more", that is really alright. I have done that very thing with a friend who's eminent death was far more than I could stand to see in person and I hate myself for not being at her bedside. This does allow me understanding for those that are sneaking off stage right for me at this time. I also am not dying! This is severe and intense in my world, but certainly does not effect anyone else, well except my husband and daughter who have to deal with my cranky ass. And it is also round 2 for the drama of illness with me, an exhausting ride even for those most committed to be by my side, so I really get it, it just stings when it is a relationship I believed had a depth that I realize, again, does not.

The truth is the exhaustion has hit me too. I realize I am really frustrated and angry that at 42, I would end up with an autoimmune disease, and one that I had reserved for old people to boot. And not only did I get this stupid thing, but I have a severe and progressive version.  Having only recently been given my best "healed" test results from the brain tumor saga, and be thinking I had an all clear, to be slapped with this is just so unfair that I feel the rumbles inside of an inner Rumpelstiltskin angrily stomping his foot through my chest. I feel like the volcano is about to blow and pretty much everyone should take cover.

One bad street taco, yet another issue with the car, my daughter's computer breaking and a pain in the ass work project later, I ended up in bed for the last few days. We barely made it to our Airbnb in San Cristobal de Las Casas in time for our "A Fern Between US: Emotional Sanitizer Wine Show" Facebook Live show, all of us arguing as we tried to figure out which way was up in our new location. Seconds after wrapping the short show, I was stung with sweat on my brow and an ominous feeling in my gut... oh yes, after 6 weeks I finally got hit with "Mexico Tummy". It was almost like the tornado of crap manifested in ... well a tornado of crap. Sorry for the graphic note there, but you know what I mean when you feel like you somehow digested all the things driving you crazy and become physically ill? Or is that just me? Anyway, I was literally put in a timeout from the world. This could have been a blessing for the world.

This morning, having broken from my cocoon, I sat in a cozy upstairs loft looking out beautifully arched wood windows that gaze down to elaborate gardens and pathways. The fire is crackling downstairs, and I lazily scrolled through my phone's apps. Then, a simple message posted on my therapist's Facebook page stopped me in my tracks, "I sat with my anger long enough, until she told me her real name was grief" read the text laid over a melancholy image of two women sitting side by side, maybe even a painting, it was beautiful, but it was the words that hit me like a ton of bricks and hot tears streaked down my cheeks. 

I am grieving. At the heart of my anger, my perceived betrayals, my frustration, I am grieving. The idea that I had achieved good health once again only to have it smashed to pieces like a wine glass on a tile floor hurts so much I hardly have words for it. I am grieving a life without pain. I am grieving the way I thought my life would look. I want to scream and punch things. I want to claw my way out of my skin and away from the blistering pain. Why me?!?!! 

I fluctuate between wanting to voice this and the idea that in round two I don't have the right. People are sick of hearing me complain, I am sick of me complaining. I don't have a hopeful message as I conclude this post. My depression is desperately tugging at my entrails and it is a struggle to not give in. I hear my husband and daughter laughing while they play cards downstairs as I watch the storm move in and darken the windows. I try to steer my thoughts away from deeply dark ideas and decide to scrape myself out of my chair and join them. I will pour a glass of wine and take baby steps to mend. The first of which is giving myself credit for recognizing the root of my anger, looking my grief in the face and letting it have a drink with me as we get to know one another.

Paradise Lost

 As I type this, I am sitting in the middle of a lush jungle. We spent our finally day here at the resort pool, a giant lagoon shape that begs for you to indulge in the cool water and over priced drinks. We have a private bungalow that gives us reprieve from the heat and the torrential down pours and in normal times, it would shelter us from the dreadful crowds that would normally be here. During covid times, we find ourselves delightfully alone most places! Expensive hotels, which I have mentioned before, are now half price and the two states we have been traveling in, Chiapas and Oaxaca, are in covid green, something so special in these deadly times that we don't want to leave. 

I've skipped over San Cristobal de Las Casas and its adorable charm because we have decided to rent a home there for a month. When we return there in another day or so, you will no doubt, hear way too many stories about it. So I will focus on the wild of Palenque. 

The drive to get here was a beautiful torture. Beautiful scenery, but the roads required us to drive 20 miles per hour making what should have been a short drive last 6 hours! If there is a hell, it is filled with roads that are like this one and riddled with topes (speedbumps). At home speed bumps scattered here and there, you easily slow glide over them and continue on your way. In Chiapas, it is a small Mount Everest for your car, each one being a unique skill to summit and crest with a certain amount of deadly scrapping anticipated. I am pretty sure we will need to completely refurbish the underside of our still not paid off VW Jetta. Oh that reminds me, we also need to have some body work as some jerk kicked a dent in our door, we can only guess in a protest to our USA plates prior to the election? People have definite views about Trump and assume those of us from the USA are all of one mind.

Where was I? ahhh yes, comparisons to hell. We finally arrive in the town of Palenque, exhausted, and in need of food ASAP. We ventured into the chaos of swirling streets, loud noises, competing music blaring from opposing stores, people yelling over the sounds, babies crying and the sizzle of meat grilling on open flames. At the moment we parked, my daughter, hazy with anti-nausea drugs awoke. Perfect timing to yank the sensory processing disorder teen out into... well, hell. It is hot, humid and a child pissed on the sidewalk in-front of us splashing our flip flop clad feet, just as a clearly drugged homeless person, doused in a shade of shit brown that I've never seen so completely dispersed over a person wove his way toward us. We stumbled into the closest store to grab some simple provisions before heading to our jungle base. We found ourselves in a dark, smelly, cramped mess of a hole in the wall and almost blindly grabbed things from the aisles, then paid and hurried back to the car. In an attempt to carry a bright mood into this leg of our journey, I said "its not so bad!". My husband looked at me sideways and quoted a review we had read claiming "there is nothing charming or good about the town of Palenque". My daughter, having been quite, stunned into silence maybe, laughed loudly and said "ya think?!?" clearly her sarcasm was deeply intact, but at least there hadn't been a panic attack.

Luckily we were booked into a special hotel tucked into the beautiful jungle surrounding the ruins of Palenque... 15 mins from the very special place of Palenque the town; clearly my sarcasm is intact as well. 

Oddly, our most incredible experience was at a rehab/ zoo for animals that have been rescued. Those able to return to the wild are and others find a permanent home at this strange island of salvation. Unlike most zoos, where the animal is placed in a cage in our concrete world, this was a heavy jungle setting with enclosures that allow a very natural habitat and being a part of it feels really special. We watched spider monkeys play, panthers pace feet from us, macaws greet you with "hola" and crocodiles swim beneath your feet. It's a very special experience that seems completely removed from the rest of the world and totally unique.

The ruins of Palenque were truly breathtaking, wonderfully preserved and the heat stroke from hiking the easy stroll was well worth it. Especially awesome was being able to jump in the glorious pool at our hotel after. I sound like a brat, I know. Maybe I am? I fell madly in love with the ruins of Tikal years ago and I may be comparing more than I should. Tikal has a mystical atmosphere with a luscious depth of soul that I'm afraid nothing will ever live up to. 

I have be honest as well, I've been stewing and it taints my experience. My body is fighting me more and more, home calls and emails are intruding on my peace of mind and I find myself getting testy. I find writing these blog posts actually help me look at my thoughts and flip my thinking around, so thank you for being my sound board. Wins are that my daughter is actually happy sometimes, a relief for me. My husband loves the jungle and relishes each animal he sees and I love soaking in the warm humidity and gorgeous green hues surrounding us. So I sign off remembering to not look at emails incessantly, to leave the phone in the room, to concentrate once again on less stress and more relaxation. I will pour a glass of wine, slather up with sticky menthol gel and tune out the sounds of the world while I tune into the final night in the jungle. I guess sometimes you need to venture to hell and back to remind yourself that you are sitting in paradise. 

As a side note, we are in the covid green zone and loving every second of feeling safe. We have decided not to venture into central or northern Mexico that is flaming red right now. We still wear our masks, we still sanitize, we still take precautions and we hope you are too. I know many of you are green with envy as we travel and you are stuck at home, we know you are suffering and I do not take the gift of this trip lightly. I'm deeply appreciative of every day I have here and only tell the negative to share the real truth of my experience, I hope in some small way this actually distracts you from the problems you are facing and brings a smile to your face. And more than anything, I hope you had wine in your glass because... say it with me...before anything else, Wine First. 

No One Likes a Complainer, Unless That Complainer is Me

Anyone watching my Instagram feed has been drooling with envy as I post gorgeous photo after gorgeous photo of luxurious hotel rooms or my feet posed with various beautiful settings in the distance, a cool drink sweating in the foreground... and rightly you all should, we are having an epic trip. But as with everything, there are the oddities, hassles and inconveniences that everyone encounters while traveling and while we have weathered them well (less stress has made us all less explosive), these disappointments are itching to be shared and I feel it is my job to complain about them to you. What???? You love me for my whining! 

*Trigger warning: in the time of covid, if you can not read this with the humor intended or take the irritation I share with a grain of salt because I know I am, after all, on vacation and you are, in fact, stuck in your house, please do not continue. I swear I will post fun uplifting pieces soon.

My complaining takes us back to Oaxaca City. Hotels made from old Colonial Homes are charming, I fall for it every single time. And since it was the wealthy that owned those homes originally, they also have the best/ most prominent locations so you DO want to stay there, however, the rooms suck. No, no, I know how the house was built and the function of the rooms facing into the inner courtyard was done on purpose, but in modern times, if you are going to squish multiple beds into a room that can not accommodate them, some issues are bound to be had. In our room for example, the door opened into the first bed. "Ahhh the first thing you saw was a bed" you say to yourself. Nope, it opened INTO the bed as in smash, door can't fully open, the bed is there. Next, it's single file to get to the restroom, 3 people definitely was over max capacity for this room. And then, the shower door wouldn't close. Like a bad dream seeping slowly over your day, the door eased its way open until you stood fully exposed, naked and cold. "Michele, this is not that bad, you should have seen my hotel room (or apartment) in NYC" you say, well, I'm about to get pickier, so buckle in! When we first entered the room, I did not like the smell. Ok, yes I do have heighten olfactory senses and I have been known to find issues with spaces that others do not. But this room reeked of death and it was bad enough for Jesse to complain to the front desk. Luckily the staff was amazing and cleaned the entire room with bleach. I sat in the charming common space and tried to bite my tongue. Then the air conditioning didn't work and because this is a charming Colonial Home turned hotel, there are no windows so the only option in the explosive heat, was to have the room doors open to the common space... ya, you're welcome fellow guests for the naked show from the shower. The final, and perhaps biggest grievance was that they had no ice bucket available in order to cool down the white wine or beers for my much needed alcohol reprieve. I'm aware ice is a hot commodity in a warm climate, I was happy to buy it from the OXXO next door, but there was no way to use it, no plug for the whole in the sink, no bucket to be had, no bowl for my use... what were they trying to do, kill me?!? Needless to say, we had to move hotels. The next one had massive amounts of space, a mini fridge with a beautiful husky whisper every time you opened it, expelling a sensual breath into the room that said "drink my cold white wine".

After Oaxaca City, we sadly said goodbye to the incredible staff and pristine solitude of the luxury hotel (where I could shower without being the evening's show) and headed to the coast. We had no way of knowing what to expect, that is part of the fun when we travel, but also the reason things can blowup in your face.

The drive to the coast is slow going. The twists and turns are much like driving in Colombia and we reminisced about that trip and how much we missed the dazzling rainbow of monochromatic greens there... between pulling over so my daughter could puke. We finally pulled into the hot streets of the cute beach town of Puerto Escondido. It has the funky flavor of some of your favorite Mexico spots mixed with a charm that tells of the money that has been seeping in over many years. Trying to actually find our hotel was a journey down bad dirt roads and a maze of driveways that on a future night would actually result in us completely lost... only a few yards from the damn hotel. Oy Vey! Anyway, I already posted about how amazing the hotel was, so let me complain a bit. We decided that we needed to see the bioluminescent lagoon and why not take a tour! I have yet to share the tail of our amazing tours we took in Oaxaca City that lead up to the belief that tours are the BEST. This tour was scheissa. 

Bioluminescence is essentially the incredible phenomenon of these bugs in the water glowing neon green in the dark of night when touched. That is clearly not the scientific description so please google it if interested. We contracted the tour guide to take us to this lagoon and out on a boat. Before we knew it, the private tour was now with another group, partiers from a nearby nude beach. The plan was to meet at a hut near the dock, we arrived and sat with the guide under a single light-bulb, swarmed by mosquitoes, drenched in sweat. I was miserable, but more than my annoyance was my concern for my daughter as we waited. My daughter suffers from sensory issues so the heat, bugs and oppressive humidity was teaming up to create a meltdown panic attack. This is why we make choices wisely for our family such as having a private tour. 40 minutes later the group finally arrived without an apology or excuse. They lost each other between the van and the water and created an obnoxious scene for the locals to chuckle about. Thankfully the guide assessed the situation, also annoyed by the behavior and lack of courtesy and separated us into our own boat, once again we had our private tour. Things seemed to be turning around as the boat created a welcomed breeze and we disappeared into the night. There was zero description of what we were to see, the boat simply stopped and the guide ordered Jesse to jump into the water. Yes, we started to wonder what kind of stupid decision we had made as well; somehow alone in a black lagoon, our wallets left on the boat, seems like a setup. But when the glow circled around Jess in the wildly alien way it does, my daughter and I jumped into the bathwater warm lagoon to join in the fun. The sparkles danced on our skin and it was magical. After 15 mins we got back in the boat, smelling of funky water, and were dropped back off at shore. In comparison to the level of education, duration and personal attention we received on our previous tours, for a fraction of the price, this was bogus. Littered with bites, we returned to our hotel to shower and bitch about the other group, after all the impact of the rude tourists was longer than our tour, I guess we got something for our money after all.

We finished out our time at the exquisite cliff side villa and ventured on to what sounded like a culturally rich immersion into the Isthmus. This would be stop one on our way to the ruins of Palenque and a much needed rest after a long day driving. We found wind, a cell block of a room with beds possibly made entirely of wood and a strange goo running down the wall. The hotel was huge and completely empty which lended itself to feeling like the movie The Shinning. Jess and I ran out for food and did find amazing dishes... really surprising considered the stretch of nothing that we had to choose from. We realized quickly that the 2 nights we booked here was a huge mistake and we exchanged looks of silent horror. To add to the theme of the hotel, a street adjacent to the property shuddered alive with the popping of gun shots. At first only a couple, enough to get our attention. It was followed by another 3 just to make sure as we questioned ourselves that we wouldn't have a doubt of what it was. As if anticipating our feelings, the lonely front desk person alerted us that she'd accidentally only charged us for one night and offered that we could leave. First thing in the morning we packed in a hurry and hit the road. It was as if Hotel California finally cracked open and we COULD leave. We might have left skid marks in the parking lot. 

We felt like gypsies, heading to the next town, hopeful the hotel could take us in a night earlier than reserved. The mountains climbed up and the feeling of the land and its people shifted, a more indigenous quality and we carefully got excited about what was to come. Driving the tiny stone streets of San Cristobal de Las Casas to our hotel, our eyes were lavished with charm and stunning beauty. We started to look for our hotel's name in one of the nooks of the twisted streets, "its called Las Escaleras" I told Jesse, he said "babe that means The Stairs" and looked at me and then my arthritic knees then back at me. Damn, I should really learn Spanish. 

The saga continues, many great memories are being made and some of them are actually due to surviving misfortune together. Maybe I should say here that I actually don't like to complain. Wait, no I love to complain, but I try not to. I am actually a pretty the-glass-is-half-full kind of gal, especially when traveling. Maybe it builds up and that's why I have to vomit it out to all of you. I know that I am beyond lucky to be able to take this long trip with my family. I know many of you are suffering far more than I am without a way to escape. I hope you are able to enjoy my tales of woe as an escape and know that I'm deeply appreciative of every second, even if those seconds are covered with millions of mosquitoes bites.

Stay safe everyone and no matter what, Wine First!

Hey Crazy, What Are You Crazy?

Rheumatoid Arthritis, that's the old lady problem right? You know the one, where the old lady is all tangled up in her own fingers and angry in pain? The one we dismiss as "a bummer" and go on our way never to think of again. Ya, well welcome to your journey into it...with me. 

I have to admit that the diagnosis itself feels like a sentence to becoming the villain in a Disney movie. I immediately saw myself needing to invest in a basket full of temptingly red apples. Turns out it is more complex than that. Did you know that there are different types of arthritis??? I didn't. Ahh to be young and blissfully unaware. Well, turns out you can get the regular kind or you can get the autoimmune disease shit-ass kind. Guess which kind I have?!? Ya, I'm starting to think my body is trying to off me too. So what is this bullshit kind I have? It is when the body turns on itself and in this case, attacks the joints. Wow, you say to yourself, what is that like? Well...it is unlike other pain I have had. It isn't like the pain of an injury or the bone crushing pain I had all over my body with the brain tumor. It also is not like the alien feeling of pain that comes with growing a child in your body or giving birth. It is a whole new weird, inescapable feeling.

You have to be thinking, since this is what I thought, being young, catching it early, means not much to deal with. Nope. As my specialist decreed "this is severe and moving fast" , greeeeeaaaatttt. 

It started in the Spring of 2020, I'd just gotten back from NYC and fallen ill, maybe it was covid, maybe it was not, any which way, I was ill in a way I'd never experienced before and it was just as the lockdown hit our state. As I recovered, we all tried to find a new normal trapped in our home with nothing but our strange thoughts. Being suddenly aware of all the weird things in our small environment, I attributed some joint pain to simply getting old and a sudden awareness to anything and everything, almost like a form of entertainment. I even thought maybe it was that I wasn't getting enough exercise, that I seemed to be in atrophy. Then time to time, my left hand started to bother me, the knuckles grew sore. Before I knew it, my wrist hurt too. Then more knuckles, my elbow, my other hand... I continued to ignore it,  after all we had far bigger fish to fry as our worlds seemed to implode with the stress of covid. Then, one day as I unloaded the dishwasher, chatting with my daughter, my hand and forearm seized in pain and contorted into unnatural positions. It startled us both, the intensity of my shriek, the oddness of the behavior and then it was over. We stared at each other and she asked "what was that?!?" I mirrored her awe back to her and shook my head. My mind immediately went to 'ahhh shit, was that a stroke?', but everything else felt fine, I seemed ok, so of course I dumped it from my brain... until it happened again. Well...actually I did alert my husband to the next time it happened, but to tell the truth what got me to call the doctor was when I couldn't open a bottle of wine on my own. Clearly I was in trouble. My left wrist and hand wouldn't brace the bottle tight enough to be a stabilizer for my right hand to maneuver the corkscrew, it was absolutely terrifying. Images of a fate worse than death flashed before my eyes, what if I was going to have to wait until Jesse got home from work each day before I could have my 1st glass of wine...and during covid! Shrieks of horror echoed across the valley that day.

Fast forward a few months and the RA has gotten worse, quickly. All the joints in my left hand hurt, every single one. My left wrist and elbow are some of the worst joints in my body. My left shoulder, both knees, ankles, toes, right hand knuckles in my pointer and pinky, wrist and shoulder also hurt, but not as bad as the left. Often the issue is that the joint feels like it has been sedated. Like my wrist, for example, took a couple Vicodin with a vodka shot and is out for the night, it simply refuses to respond. Other times it is a severe pain originating inside and burrowing its way out. It is more like the center of a joint has exploded and caused the bone to splinter. Those splinters are now shoved into the nearby bones; like a hangnail ripped back into the cuticle or thick sharp piece of wood jammed under your nail bed. Believe it or not, this is not as bad as the pain associated with a brain tumor so clearly I'm still WINNING. 

I am taking various drugs to try to hold the progression, some to give me some peace from the pain, but nothing seems to help much. The usual drugs that help most people with RA are not an option due to my brain tumor issues so we have had to be creative. My doctor wants to "hit it hard with 3-6 months of chemo" in the hopes that that can be like a system reset for the autoimmune disease and then we can maintain some amount of health after that. I'm all for it. So why isn't that what I am doing right now? Why am I gallivanting all over Mexico during a pandemic? What am I crazy?!? Well, that part is complicated. 

As a mom, we sacrifice... and go a little crazy. From the moment you become pregnant, everything about your body, your life, your emotions...they all get a dose of 'what's good for the baby' and it doesn't let up, even when they become teenagers, or as my mom would say, adults too. This year has been difficult for so many of us, and when it hits your child, you become obsessed with fixing it. Depression is tricky, it can sneak up on you and tear you down. Over the years I've battled with it from light to severe, as you can imagine due to Cushings I had to write a will for an eminent surgery that could result in death, blindness, loss of smell (maybe the worst for me considering my career) or a brain fluid leak that would create horrific debilitating headaches... all while your child watches you disintegrate, can create a deep depression. I will be honest and share that I've been on an antidepressant for about 6 years. I have tried to wean off (always with my doctor's assistance) and then had to increase again. I've had loss and deeply disturbing life experiences that resulted in a need to go back up in dose. So, when my child started to plummet, I knew we needed to act swiftly and my husband saw it too. Perhaps the best way to impress upon you the serious nature of which I speak is that when discussing the need to travel, change locations and have a brain reset for my family, my doctor got it. She has a teenage daughter as well and we held hands, in a covid safe way, in her office, leveled to just two women knowing the unsettling deep love, fear and craziness of being a mom, and we cried together. 

And so here we are, soaking in the sunshine of Mexico, lapping up the delights of the cuisine and relaxing deeply. It is clear it has been helpful, as smiles reappear, and it may be just a band-aid, but we are trying to continue therapy sessions and a healthy evolution toward staying afloat. Yes, I hurt all the time, but my heart, the one that walks around outside my body, has started to heal and that is all I can see. So pour me some mescal, open me a beer and fill my glass with wine because regardless of the shit-show that your life is, and no matter how crazy things get, Wine First.

I Left My Heart in Puerto Escondido

I left you all with a strange introspection last post. Today I'm in a much different place...literally. Yesterday I spent all day laying on a chaise on our balcony over looking the turquoise ocean, steps from our spacious, elegant Villa. Giant potted plants bloomed fuchsia next to me and my husband swung in a hammock to my side, a happy half smile resting on his lips. I felt relaxed and happy. "Happy", I don't know when I last felt happy. The chilled glass of white wine was sweating in my hand while my daughter leaned her waif like body against the railing, entranced by the papaya orange sunset, her chestnut hair sweeping sleepily around her eyes, eyes that finally reflect peace. Every day is shades of this and I really never want to leave this place. 

All of our experiences have been incredible from day one in Mexico; oddly it feels like the beautiful tour of hotels this trip. But this place... with the excellent beach, 80 degree water and sandy bottom, the lullaby waves and warm, humid air's embrace, is so much of what I have been needing, it is intoxicating. Or maybe that's the wine. Another of the charms we have discovered is the outstanding wine industry that seems to have boomed since our last trip to central Mexico some 6 years ago. 

I am lost in the days this trip, not knowing what the date is or what is happening back at home. I have never gone on vacation and left so much of my work at home, and I have to say, it feels amazing! Is this how other people have been travelling?!? I'm usually hurrying back from a tour of the city or play time in the water to answer emails, choreograph events, manage distribution and all the paperwork that goes along with running a winery. Often Jesse and our daughter are forced out exploring so they can "get out of my hair" and I can furiously work, a madwoman chaotically flipping through files and banging away on the keyboard just so I can get some R&R in for part of the day. But this trip, this is like the agave honey I add to my Mezcal, rich and smooth, a silky flow of sweetness that erases all the bitterness and bite from your life. 

The professionals, both my doctors and my daughter's therapist, encouraged the taking of this trip. A necessary application of travel to sooth deeply troubled parts of our lives. My RA specialist teared up as we spoke in her office discussing a plan for treatment balancing the need for this trip. Her heartfelt connection and understanding has forever bonded me to her and I reflect on just how lucky I have been to have had so many amazing doctors in my life. She also recommended a daily dose of tequila, like I said, I love this woman. We had hoped we were making the right decision, traveling during covid times seeming needlessly dangerous, but as the days tick away and we settle into the decadent, simple life of Mexico's getaway destinations, it feels more than right, it feels bone deep necessary. 

I have stories to tell of the sites, sounds and tastes of Oaxaca City, magical explorations and culinary treats. I have stories of trying to escape the evolving pain of RA and its strange deterioration of my joints, but those all need to wait for another day. Today, all I can do is raise my wide brimmed hat from my eyes to watch giant turtles play, read the  book that has been calling me for 6 months and sip my wine, because as we all know, before you can do anything, you need to Wine First.

To Hell & Back Again: Welcome to My Bad Mood

 

I'm flooded with annoyance this morning. I'm not sure why exactly either. I am in a gorgeous place, having amazing experiences, eating incredible food, drinking wonderful local wines... so what's up? You've probably guessed that I am happy with the USA election results so it definitely isn't that. Maybe it's traveling with a teenager that in the natural consequence of sharing hotel rooms has become a total cockblock. Sorry for the overshare on that, but we are all adults here right? Or maybe it is the scrolling through social media to see post after post of people I thought I knew, sharing things that seem like contradictory ideas to who I thought they were. Its as if 2020 has given some a high dose of LSD and they have never really come out of the trip. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with difference of opinion, I am actually one of those people that did not unfriend anyone for their views during this heated election. I have allowed space for constructive discussion and think it is important to have, I also believe that you can "sleep" a friendship or scroll past a post. I have been criticized for this so called lackadaisical approach, but I believe it is a fine line to walk. Anyone that posted hate speech I did block, I don't think there is room for that anywhere, but just as I want to have the opportunity to possibly open someone's mind up to a new way of thinking about something, I recognize that they have the same drive and that most people are coming from a place of truth, even if we don't agree. I understand the stance that certain affiliations are seen as belief in misogyny and racism, and I do see an increase of those beliefs in the people that support those that seem to condone revolting behavior, but I have also had some amazing conversations with people that have allowed for a back and forth and that have not necessarily changed their overall views, but said that it has made an impact on them. They now know someone that is ___ or has had ____ happen and that the discussion makes them question some of their ideas. This is deeply important to me, to give a face to something they didn't understand and feared from it being unknown. But today, I suddenly hit a limit of seeing aspects of people I thought I knew, go to the dark side and disregard logical discussion.

As I said, I'm flooded with annoyance. Maybe I'm overly sensitive to social media today, because I'm itching to be irritated. My mind seems to be finding the holes in conversations I had before we even left on this vacation, a sudden emotional hook on something that should probably be dropped. Or maybe it is the constant low-grade pain that my rheumatoid arthritis is causing in every joint in my body. The meds seem to be dulling the pain, decreasing inflammation and addressing some aspects, but by the time evening has come, my body pings at me in pain. I apply a cream to sooth joints, like my wrists, and find that they can't bend to a normal degree on their own. It is a strange sensation, like the joint has become so deeply fatigued that it passed out mid use. Or maybe its that over the course of a brain tumor, travel, turning 40 (and my metabolism slowing down), then 2020 and an autoimmune disease... my body has packed on the pounds. I hardly recognize myself and the constant reminder as I try on a cute dress, or have my teenager tell me that I look like I'm pregnant, are a daily battleground of self-hatred.

Man, I've gone to a dark place. I bet you are really glad you decided to read this blog today, uplifting right? LOL! What can I say, I'm not always fun to be around. OK, OK, OK, let me turn this around. Maybe I just needed to vomit it out, see it on screen and realize that it isn't all as bad as I'm feeling it to be. Do you ever find yourself in that place? Head full of negativity only to take a moment to look at it and realize none of it is that bad? Those people that I'm sad to see change before my eyes, well, maybe I need a break from seeing so much of them, continue to practice the "sleep" mode when need be. Maybe I need to just relax, let the sun of Mexico seep into my bones. Maybe I just need to get laid.

I appreciate you letting me vent, lending me your ear. Now I will go search out a glass of wine, because before I can practice self acceptance, I'll need to Wine First.