I am beginning to realize that to be brave you must also be willing to sit on the hotel bathroom floor, tucked in between the toilet and the tub; and cry your heart out. When you have cried so hard that you have lost the ability to breath, you need to muster up the energy to fill the tub with unbearably hot water. Then slip into it and quietly sob, until your heart rate comes down and you can breath again. Only then can you crawl out of the tub, into your pajamas and pass out from exhaustion.
Trust me when you wake up the next morning, you will find the sun peeping through the cracks in the curtains, announcing a new day and you will know you got this. You can then take that half dry, wild bed head, tie it up in a pony tail and push on.
As some of you know by now, I went to Ontario last week and bought a van. The plan is to convert it and travel for, at least, the next year. As confident as I am in this decision, driving home Sunday was exhausting. By the time I got to Quebec, I was tired and had no desire to sleep another night on the air mattress in the back of the van; so I booked a hotel online. It turns out I was not on the hotel website and I got scammed (that’s the word I am choosing to use, even thought the fine print somewhere told me) a $50 booking fee. That was it, I was done! Sent over the edge for $50. What happened next was not my finest moment. But, I am thankful for the hot bath, the warm bed, and my amazing daughter, who talked me through it over text. Because actually talking when you can’t breath is complicated.