The Road Les Traveled

It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m so sick.

I’d been feeling a little off when I left Arizona on Sunday, but now? It’s a full-blown cold — cough, congestion, and zero energy. Yesterday, I slept the entire day. Thank goodness I raided my brother’s medicine cabinet before I left; the DayQuil and NyQuil stash got me through the last two nights. Unfortunately, I’m running low, and the thought of trying to figure out where to buy more in a foreign country feels… daunting.

This morning, I finally set up my little desk with the intention of working, but let’s be honest — nothing productive is happening today. I feel like absolute crud.

My sister, Tessa, FaceTimed me this morning. She’s worried about me being here in Mexico — and to be honest, I’m worried, too. The second her face popped up on my screen, I just broke down crying. The words tumbled out: “What am I doing? What was I thinking?” I’m sick, alone, in a foreign country, and I don’t speak the language. It’s not exactly the adventurous, romantic start to this trip that I envisioned.

As always, Tessa was calm, patient, and loving — the voice of reason when I needed it most. She reminded me that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed and that it will get better. I’m so grateful for her.

Tessa and I have only known each other for ten years. We share the same birth father but have different mothers. We found out about each other in 2007 but didn’t actually connect until 2015. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was going through one of the darkest times of my life. My world had shattered, and I was completely lost. One day, I dropped to my knees in my bedroom and prayed — not in a religious way, but in a desperate plea to the higher power I call God. I begged for strength just to make it through the next hour, the next minute.

A few hours later, my phone rang. It was Tessa. She had found me. To this day, I believe she was the answer to that prayer — my guardian angel arriving exactly when I needed her most.

Now, back to my arrival in Mexico.

After my driver dropped me off Sunday night, I stepped into what will be my home for the next 30 days. My first impression? Honestly, disappointment. The house is rustic, just as I expected, but I was secretly hoping to be pleasantly surprised. I wasn’t. It’s fine — clean and functional — but bare and cold, with cinder block walls and concrete floors. It felt more like a shell than a home.

To make matters worse, it was 9:00 p.m. on a Sunday. The streets were quiet, everything was closed, and I was tired, hungry, and sick. No snacks, no drinks, nothing waiting in the kitchen. I had only water. So, I took some NyQuil, crawled into bed, and told myself I’d figure it all out in the morning.

Monday morning was rough. I could barely get out of bed. But then — a small miracle — I discovered Uber Eats works in Mérida! I felt like I’d hit the jackpot. I ordered chicken pozole from a local restaurant (the only thing that sounded remotely comforting) and even managed a small grocery haul. Ordering groceries in a language you don’t speak is an adventure in itself — but somehow, I pulled it off.

For now, my goal is simple: rest, find more medicine, and not let the overwhelm take over. I keep telling myself — it’s all going to be okay.

He’s super supportive during my time of rest.