My Mind is Being Consumed
Yesterday we celebrated being here for one year. Roatanniversary. Today, being the 366th day of my new life in Roatan, I must get real with myself - at least here - and tell the truth.
Am I delighted to have escaped the minutiae of Florida-living? Yes, of course. This brand new life in a difficult third-world country gives me a certain kind of thrill. The challenge is pronounced and I am grateful for this opportunity to push myself.
Physically, at age 65 and in good health except for being 40# overweight, it is a delight to discover I can do so much more than sit in my recliner and drink wine.
Having a rustic house built right on the beach is a life-long dream coming true. Soaking in the Caribbean Sea at least once a day never gets old.
I have hiked up the sides of these mountains and felt like near-death, struggling to cool down and catch my breath. I've stood very still in the ultra-humid jungle, listening to rivers of sweat run down my body.
There have been days I barely moved, lucky to get 1,000 steps in, glued to the monitor of my computer. Other days I can't stop moving. Toward a new experience or away from one that scares me a little.
Mentally, however, I seem to be failing myself. I live with fear. In fear. Surrounded by fear. The kind that sharply wakes me up in the middle of the night, and imposes itself heavily on my heart as my eyes drift open in the morning.
My mind is consumed with worry that something will happen to my husband, Mike. An injury or life-threatening illness. I can't call 911 for an ambulance here. Even getting to a hospital requires a sound-mind plan.
What will I do?