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“Healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.” ~Pema Chodron
I recently went on vacation with my partner, Jett. I want to tell you it was kind of a disaster, but the truth is, it was just life. I had a lot of expectations placed on this trip (I have a lot of expectations, period), and I thought my issues wouldn’t follow me to Mexico.
We left the chores and the kids and the pets behind, but we still brought ourselves. We were both currently in therapy, working through childhood trauma. It was a lot, so we were both raw and easily triggered. Throw in jet lag, misunderstandings about plans for the trip, and chronic pain for both of us (exacerbated by the teeny tiny seats we were crammed into for the entire flight), and it was not a recipe for success.
We didn’t sleep the first night. After our flight landed and we got settled in our rooms, we went to find me some CBD to treat my anxiety. Even though it doesn’t make you high, it is still cannabis, and I couldn’t bring it with me on the flight. We were in our rental car and couldn’t find parking close to the dispensary.
After ten to twenty minutes of this, my partner asked if I would be okay waiting in the car while he ran in.
My C-PTSD is related to not being kept safe as a child. My partner and I had been working on this issue because I need my safety to be a priority in my relationships in order to feel, well, safe. He tends to be more laid-back about things.
So when he asked me if I would be okay staying in the rental car alone, at night, in Mexico, where I don’t speak the language, I just stared at him in horror.
He immediately took it back, saying that it was just a stupid idea, he wouldn’t have actually left me there alone, etc. I hadn’t eaten in hours and hours. I had no CBD in my system, and that was the thing I relied upon to stay steady. It had been a long flight, and I was exhausted, so I burst into tears.
“No one, literally no one,” said part of me, “cares what happens to you.”
He apologized profusely. I continued to cry. We eventually found a parking space and got my CBD.
I didn’t sleep at all that night. My nervous system went haywire, in a state of panic that I could’ve been left to fend for myself. Anger and sadness scalded like hot pavement on bare feet.
Jett eventually fell asleep. I sat on the patio and watched the sun come up over the ocean.
The second day was hard for both of us. I sat in the private cabana Jett had reserved. As he slept off the jetlag and exhaustion, I stared out at the water. I suddenly had this feeling that I was not alone. And these pictures sprung to mind.
A nonna with her creased face, sitting on the beach, looking out at the ocean, tears traversing her face.
A devastated man staring at the waves, hunched over and defeated.
A small child sitting in the sand, with the water chilling their toes, head thrown back in a wail.
A bride, still in her white dress, looking out at grey water, feeling nothing but emptiness.
I’m not saying these people really existed. But picturing them—all the people throughout all of time, across the entire planet, who had sat crying in front of the ocean—made me feel less alone. I had this strong sense of connection that is hard to explain. It was a deep thrumming in my soul. My pain was not unique. It was universal. I got goosebumps.
The rest of the trip was beautiful. We walked along the beach, we lay by the pool, we went in the ocean, we checked out the local wildlife. We went to a cenote, and floated in the shallow pools, just the two of us. We saw fireworks and fire dancers.
The rest of the trip was challenging. We had hard conversations. I cried. He cried. Even though we had no work or chores to do, my partner still barely slept each night. We had hoped this vacation would help with his insomnia. But it didn’t.
We had ten days of beauty and struggle. We only left our tasks behind, not our problems. Our trauma came too, though it was not invited.
Life follows you. Some trips will be happy. Some will be sad. Most will be a little bit of everything.
Sitting on the beach or at the lodge with your heart bruised? Here’s what I’ve learned about how to be sad on vacation.
1. Stare out at the sea/mountains/canyon (etc.)…
…and think of all the other shattered people who have looked out at this view before you.
2. Let the weather—be it rain, sun or flurries—wash over you, filling your senses.
Do you smell flowers? Sea salt? Snow?
3. If a sad-cation was not what you had in mind, and things have gone awry, practice radical acceptance of the situation.
It is what it is. Yes, I just used that cliche. Because we can’t always change our situation, but we can usually find some way to make it more bearable. Make the vacation about something—the wildlife, the local music scene, or journaling each day of the trip. Make it about something other than the thing you wish it was, but that it isn’t.
4. Be ready for something or someone to make you laugh out loud.
Let it happen. It’s okay to feel many things at once. Laughing doesn’t mean your pain doesn’t matter.
5. Make friends.
Feeling lonely? Keep an eye out for some other travelers in similar situations and find some common ground. Vacation friendships can last a lifetime.
6. Be adventurous!
Rent jet skis, go hang-gliding, or take skiing lessons. Sometimes a little adrenaline is the best medicine. It lets us know we’re still alive.
7. Cry, scream, run—anything to get that pain out of your body.
If you’re an artist, paint or draw. If you don’t have your supplies, find somewhere to buy some. If you’re a photographer, challenge yourself to capture scenes in your own unique way.
8. Eat and sleep as well as you can.
Jet lag and low blood sugar are not a recipe for an enjoyable day. Don’t add “hanger” to your list of problems!
9. Stay present.
Wherever you are, be there fully. Thinking about the past, the future, or even what we believe should be happening in the present means we don’t get to experience what is happening right now.
10. Traveling with kids? Don’t feel you have to keep a constantly happy face.
It’s okay for kids to know that parents have feelings, especially when they get to see their parent managing those feelings in a healthy way. If there’s a kids’ club at your resort, use it! Even a couple of hours to zone out or reflect in peace can make you a more present parent when you see your kids again. Even clunking them down with a sand, pale, and shovels can give you some much-needed respite.
And if your feelings get overwhelming at times, understand that just like this vacation will pass, so will your sadness. Life will always include all of the feelings, so all we can really do is accept them all and make the best of it.
About Miranda J. Ireland
Miranda J. Ireland is a writer, speaker, and artist living on Vancouver Island, Canada. If she’s not writing, performing or collaborating an art show, you can find her on the beach, looking out at the ocean.
