Mexico Day 117: The state of my mind

Playa Tecolote  //

Starting yesterday and bleeding into today, I feel stress and despair. Twenty-four hours ago, I was elated to be arriving back in Baja. Now that we’re here, my mind has shifted gears, and I suddenly am worrying about all kinds of things that I haven’t fretted over in months. Stuff like income, taxes, our wildly unpredictable future. Big-picture stuff.  

It has become clear to me in the last few years that worry is my natural state. Last year, my favorite author, Elizabeth Gilbert, spoke on a podcast about how a relaxed woman is a radical concept.  All the women she’d ever known while growing up were angry and tired, never relaxed.  In her always beautiful and ever-inspiring dialogue she expresses how much stress women always seem to be carrying.*  I recall her words all the time now as I notice how rare it is for me to experience true relaxation.  

As I work to dissect my thoughts this morning, I realized that traveling around mainland Mexico was the epic distraction from life’s common stressors. My natural state of worry did not go away; it was merely redirected to our safety in Mexico and day-to-day tasks like finding campsites and route planning. As soon as we disembarked from the ferry yesterday and returned to a land that we know well, my brain seamlessly shifted from worrying about traveling logistics to worrying about the next easiest target…money.  No matter how much money we have, this is always where my stress lands when there’s nothing else to worry about.

I used to think that worry was a symptom of a problem. I’ve since learned that it’s a state of mind that has an uncanny ability to create hypothetical problems out of thin air. Or, as put succinctly in a favorite quote, “worrying is meditating on shit”.  

For a couple of hours today, Mark and I dive into a deep conversation about the state of the world, the state of our world, and how sensitive and susceptible I am to feeling stressed and overwhelmed by it all. Mark has a remarkable ability to meet my worry with both logic and zen. He brings me back to the here and now and reminds me that life doesn’t get much better than this. To feel stress here, on a pristine beach overlooking Mexico’s turquoise waters while a giant school of dolphins passes by, is proof that our problems, whether perceived or real, go with us wherever we are. Contentedness is an inside job.  

I think a lot about my compulsive desire to be on the move. And how anytime I’m scratching that itch, I’m also fatigued by it. I love to travel for so many reasons, but I can’t deny that it’s also an attempt to escape myself. I’ve always thought I wanted to continue expanding our travels to farther and more foreign places. Now I’m looking at that desire in a new light. Perhaps our annual Colorado to Baja pilgrimage is enough to satisfy my wanderlust while still teaching me how to find peace within my mind without fooling me into thinking I can outrun myself.  

Life on the road is funny in that way; it can be a method to avoid what ails you or it can be a path to healing and self-discovery. I think whatever it is we are seeking is what it will ultimately give us in the end.  

*It’s bold of me to try and convey anything spoken by the incredible Liz Gilbert. I’ve cited a mere fraction of a thought that she describes in detail. If you’re at all intrigued I highly recommend listening to the episode I’m referencing here.