I am blessed. Health, finances, and time are of no concern. I have the freedom to do anything I can think of. Yet it all seems like a chore.
I want to rot in bed. Reinstall all the social media I’ve given up. Order an exorbitant amount of calories. Drink until the day is done.
I have already walked down all the interesting streets. The restaurants look disappointing. I am in no mood to talk to anyone. What would I even do if I went outside?
These thoughts occur daily, and I’ve been giving in. But today, today I scrounge together a modicum of strength. I have no plan, but I think I can make it out the door. As I get dressed, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In my head, I have gained 200 pounds and all my gym gains are gone, but in reality, I look alright.
As I step outside, I am greeted by the warmth of the setting sun. The AC has been blasting, and I didn’t realize how cold I’d been. I walk to the beach and watch the sun as it disappears behind the sea. It’s serene. I can’t believe I’ve been here a week and this is my first time watching the sunset.
The self-loathing starts receding. The urge to run back inside dies down. Maybe I’ll finally give the local restaurant a try.
I’ve walked past this place before. The signage is sun-bleached. Scooters are piled by the entrance. The tables and chairs are low to the ground and made of plastic, so flimsy that I’m worried I’ll break them.
Do I grab a seat or wait? Is there a menu, or do the locals just know what they want? Do I go up to pay or wait for a bill? At my lowest, I am crippled by these questions. In my head, everyone is watching me. They wait for me to make a mistake so they can pounce. In reality, no one cares.
I walk in, and immediately a waiter looks over at me. I hold up one finger, and she gestures to a table. I have been brought a menu and my order has been taken. As I wait for my food, I notice the person at the table next to me is also a foreigner. I strike up a conversation.
We talk of how long we’ve been in the country and what we’ve been up to. We talk about where we’re from and what we do for work. We slowly discover that we have lots in common. As the meal winds down, we make plans to meet up tomorrow.
Back at the hotel, I realize this is the best I’ve felt in weeks. The sun was refreshing. The food was much better than the delivery slop. And I hadn’t realized how starved of conversation I was.
Today could have been another step down the spiral. It would have been easier. I could have given in to the anxiety. I could have done nothing again. Instead, I started climbing out. I wish I had done it sooner. All I had to do was literally anything.