Last week Jen went to a talk at the high school on anxiety. It was probably meant for parents who wanted to help their kids face school-related stresses and social pressures. Jen, I think, went so she could help me.
For the past few months whenever she has brought up the prospect of a long-term trip to some other part of the world, she got silence and a petrified stare in return. I may not be as intrepid as I like people to believe. The thought of a trip like the one she was proposing brought up images of risks and headaches, confusion and hassles.
Some people are like that. We are happy where we are and we make do with what we have. We get adventure through reading. We don’t readily embrace change.
To my credit, I think, I eventually explained my fears to Jen, and then I told her I definitely want to go on this trip. This is because of how all of our other adventures have turned out. Was I looking forward to driving across the country in our van, through the South, in summer? Not particularly. Did I relish the responsibility of guiding a rental car from Rome to Venice and 30 places in between? Not at all. The list of things she proposed and I panicked over goes on and on: buying a house, having kids, sugar-free month, vacations of all kinds. Basically, every interesting thing we’ve ever done since getting married has terrified me.
They’ve all turned out tremendously well. We shouldn’t let fear rule our lives, especially when someone like Jen is doing the planning.
Also, once I learned that we wouldn’t be driving the length of Mexico, I started to breathe a little better. It might be that we don’t have to drive at all. This is helpful. The man who rented us our car in Rome seemed to think we’d be pleased that the car had only 17 kilometers on the odometer. Anyone who has seen the Getaway Van knows how scratch- and dent-prone we are. It was a triumphant Bob who walked away from the still-pristine white Audi on the top floor of the Venice parking garage (there’s only the one in the whole city). I was still smiling hours later. Look at the picture at the top of the blog. It’s the rest of my family and a triumphant Bob.
Another thing helping me breathe more easily is that this isn’t our parent’s Central America. Costa Rica is a widely-accepted tourist’s paradise, and the countries around it seem to be trying to jump on the bandwagon. We have several guidebooks and they all present seventeen incredible sites on every two-page spread. Jen has some work in the planning department, sure. I can come along for the ride – and not have to drive.
And now I have some advice from the anxiety talk. Jen told me all about it. I am to treat my worries as if they are an external entity keeping me from enjoying the planning of the trip. I say, “Hey, worry, get away so I can think about walking around and taking the bus in Central America.”
And the worry says, “As long as there’s no driving.”
Do we have to buy the worry a plane ticket?