The voice on the subway
(I know. It's been a minute. How are you? Apparently, I'm still trying to figure things out. Here's a story about one of them.)
Recently, I convinced myself that God wanted me to go to Punta Cana.
I sat with that urge for about two days and listened while the proverbial angel and devil on each shoulder made a case for why I should or should not book that trip and then — convinced that the heavens had opened and decreed that I deserved a vacation — I went ahead and booked it. I could feel the sun on my face as soon as I pressed the PURCHASE button.
I rationalized that I could fund airline tickets for me and the two kids going, as well as the all-inclusive resort, using airline miles and credit card reward points. For a few hours one Tuesday night, I slipped into a deep online matrix booking flights three different ways and then an internet hole on AmEx to find a cheap resort. I put the balance on one of my credit cards and felt good about how much I’d “saved” and excited for four nights in the Caribbean to relax and do absolutely nothing but sit in the sun.
And immediately, my decision began to bite me in the ass.
My other two kids were like, “Thanks a lot.” And even their father had feelings about me going on vacation. And then I was chatting with my older son who mentioned he needed to get his passport renewed for his own upcoming trip and I was like, “Wait a minute.”
I dragged the fireproof box out from the floor of my closet where I keep important paperwork and pulled out my passport and saw I still had another year until it expired. While I had that out, I thought I’d check my teenager’s passport and, you guessed it, it had expired last November. Did I mention that the resort was non-refundable?
That was late on the Friday afternoon of Presidents weekend, which meant government offices were closed on Monday and that I wouldn’t be able to do anything other than getting lost down deep internet holes until the following Tuesday morning. For about a day I was sick over how I was going to get him a new passport in under two weeks, further complicated by the child in question located four hours away at school.
But at some point over that long weekend, I let it go and stopped obsessing over it. I told myself that everything would work out and ultimately, it did. The day before our 7 a.m. flight, my son and I drove to Philadelphia at 6:30 a.m. with a Ziploc bag full of paperwork for an 8:30 a.m. appointment, and by 3 p.m. we were driving home with a new passport.
In the two weeks leading up to our trip, my kids and I had been checking the weather app on our phones and were dismayed to see thunderclouds over every one of the days we’d be in Punta Cana. They brought it up a few times and I told them it didn’t matter, we’d still have lots of laughs. But deep down I was like, “I can never win.” That’s the story I told myself. That I’d have to jump through all the hoops to get the passport and suffer my family members’ feelings about me going on vacation with the younger two kids and then it was going to rain the whole time on top of it.
The Saturday before I left I went to an early morning step meeting that I’ve come to love. There’s so much sobriety and wisdom in the room and I’m always glad for the hour I spend listening to other people share how they navigate challenges in their lives.
The format for that particular meeting is that we take turns reading from the 12 Step book and then sharing thoughts on what we read. That morning’s reading included a story about how Bill Wilson (or one of those old-timey AA dudes, it gets so confusing) was riding a subway home one night and that a voice in his head told him how some cockamamie plan was a great idea. But when he got home and told his wife and friends about it, they were like, “That’s a terrible idea.”
I know all about that voice on the subway. It’s the same one that used to tell me to pour just one more glass of wine each night and to let Netflix roll me into the next episode of whatever it was I had lost myself to at the end of each day.
I raised my hand at the meeting that morning and told the group how that voice on the subway had told me I should go to Punta Cana, and everybody laughed. I said I listened to that voice, even though the smaller one I could hear in my chest was saying, “Really? Do you think that’s the best thing to do right now?”
That small voice was the same one that had been telling me to end my marriage and that I was struggling with alcohol. I don’t always want to hear that come-to-Jesus voice, but it’s the one that never pulls any punches. It also wants the best for me. The voice on the subway? Not so much.
When I finished sharing, the loveliest woman sitting next to me who’s about 15 years my senior and someone I so admire, leaned over and said, “Doesn’t it feel good to tell on yourself?”
In the end, the trip was terrific. A 10 out of 10, checking all of my boxes. I sat on my butt for three full days and read two books. And yes, I felt lots and lots of sun on my face and saw plenty of clear blue sky. We played a lot of cards and Rummikub, ate our fill of croissants and pastries, and I had a virgin pina colada every afternoon that to me, tastes like vacation.
Was it worth it? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Nope. Was it the best decision of my life? Probably not. But I feel energized and refreshed and ready to get back to my demanding job and even writing here, because it’s fun.
As my dear sponsor always reminds me, we’re allowed to be human. We can make mistakes and accept our human-ness. It helps us accept the human-ness of others, too. That we’re all just doing the best we can and sometimes, we mess up.
As mistakes go, this wasn’t the worst. It might have added a few more bucks to my debt load and created a temporary distraction from some of the more important things in my life right now. But it sounded like palm leaves rustling in the breeze. And it tasted just like coconuts.
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SUNDAY SHARES: Read, watch, cook, buy
I've read and listened to a ton of books lately. I finished The Anomaly, which is about a Paris to New York flight that hits terrible turbulence along the way, and then weird things start to happen. Coincidentally, coming home from the Dominican Republic we also hit really scary turbulence. Like, our flight attendant later said in the eight years she’d been flying, she’d had two terrible experiences with turbulence and our flight was one of them. So far, nothing weird has happened to me, so fingers crossed.
I also read It Ends With Us on the trip. Fast. Easy. My college pal, Miss Meg, recommended and as usual, she was right. (She was also right about The Tender Bar movie, which I watched last night with my 19yo and while I did not like it half as much as the book, it was a great movie to watch with my son).
I recently listened to the memoir Crying in H Mart and absolutely loved hearing the author read her story about losing her mother and how they’d been able to bridge gaps in their relationship through Korean food. My 24yo daughter read it on the trip and she loved it as well (she also read and loved People We Meet on Vacation).
Obviously, when you book a trip to Punta Cana, you'll need some new clothes to go with it. Sigh. This Target bathing suit is awesome. These Freedom Moses plastic sandal knockoffs are super comfy. And they had really cute cover-ups like this and this. Old Navy has linen pants that will be good for work if it ever gets warm enough and stop snowing here in NJ. And this skirt had a definite island vibe.
A shout out to Barbara, the owner of Healthy Glow in Little Silver, who gave my white, pasty body a hint of the islands, before my plane even landed.
Finally, I totally have those old lady crinkles and also, prefer them to the alternative.
Wow. Thanks for reading. Seriously, you're the best.
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