I’ve been on the road for the past week but I’m home now.
And for me, it’s so nice to be home.
I used to be much better at traveling. In fact, I used to love it. Packing up my suitcase and going on a little adventure could really get me excited. But ever since The Imposition Tour forced me to live out of a suitcase for such a long time, I’m officially ruined when it comes to travel, I think. Even when I’m traveling to somewhere amazing, or seeing people I adore, I’m just too tricky inside now to really appreciate the value of a good trip.
On this particular trip, the focus was business, and the fact is, I feel engaged and pumped about all of the things in the mix for Lou and me these days. So the trip started out well — especially because I got to see my very best friend, Julie, for a couple of days! I absolutely soaked in every minute of my days with her, and when it was time for Lou and me to go, I felt full, happy, and really, really loved.
But things started to unravel for me a bit on this trip when Lou and I moved on from Julie’s safe and comforting home to the Air B&B we rented for the remaining three days of our trip. We had a really difficult time finding a place to stay because we were in South Florida, and a) it’s “season,” and, b) it was the week before the Super Bowl in Miami. So we really didn’t have the luxury of being super choosey.
Anyway.
The picture of the house Lou found on the VRBO app made the place seem like it was going to be alright, I guess, and descriptors like “art deco” and “charming” admittedly of lured me in a little. And the fact that it was available for the days we needed it, and, it was a really good price, kind of sealed the deal for me. And, in the photos, the outside of the house was super cute, and…the living room and kitchen looked like they had at least been updated sometime in the ’90s. But as soon as I saw the place in person, I realized that the words used to describe this house were just a clever way to say “old and skanky” and “delusional” in an online description.
Lou, of course, loved it.
As you know, his spirit animal is a happy-go-lucky Golden Retriever. So as soon as he walked into the place, he plopped down on the obviously dog-friendly-looking sofa, took off his shoes, and scratched his own belly. But my spirit animal — Juanita, the OCD Chihuahua — instantly recoiled as shockwaves of anxiety ricocheted through my being. And as soon as I took one look at the carpet in the bedroom, my feet started to burn inside of my shoes. The carpet was a gray-colored shag situation that had dark brown stains on it, and I could actually feel heat building up around my exposed ankles as soon as I entered the room.
The bathroom was also a major trigger for me. It was so small and tight that the back of my calves lightly brushed the toilet (ew!) when I stepped in to wash my hands, and the swirly blue shower curtain was actually touching my shoulder! When I looked down at my feet, I noticed I was stepping on a dingy brown bathmat that sincerely looked as if it had never been washed, and when I pulled the shower curtain back to see how big the actual shower was, I instantly alerted to another gray, water-logged, in-shower foot mat stretched out like a dead bacteria-laden beast on the bottom of the tub.
You probably can’t tell how hard I’ve been working to overcome my OCD issues, but I really have! I’ve been listening to guided meditations and spending time on my hikes praying for God to release me from my sometimes debilitating fear of germs and other things I can’t see or control. And most days, I feel like I’ve made some progress. But just being in that little house for one minute sent me down to a very bad place inside of me, and my body took on a rigidity that didn’t go away for three whole days.
I did my best to shove my fears and irrational feelings down as far as they could go, but I could always feel my jittery spirit animal struggling to keep it together. On the first morning, after I took a totally upsetting shower where I tried to figure out how to straddle that nasty foot mat (that was permanently suctioned to the bottom of the tub), I couldn’t find Lou anywhere in the little house. So I pulled open the sliding glass door, and just like the friendly Gold Retriever he is, Lou was outside exploring and looking for a neighbor to meet.
I wish I could be more like Lou.
When Lou is at his best, he is so much more lovable than I am, and that house kept reminding me of that fact. I wanted more than anything to figure out how to be OK with how terrifying my environment was making me feel, but there’s no switch to flip in me that turns off my inner Juanita… I hardly slept any of the nights we spent in that little house — mostly because I kept worrying that some part of my skin might touch the dingy bedspread without the protective buffer of the top sheet that I mentally ordered myself to believe had been washed in Tide Original. But I was also so troubled by how my mind works.
I tried to explain it to Lou as best I could. But if you don’t experience these types of anxieties the way I do, the words used to explain how it feels probably make as much sense as explaining the finer points of organic chemistry to a lovable dog who just wants to play. And as much as I “wanted” to play, I could never let myself fully relax in that rental house. In fact, it wasn’t until we got home last night, and I took a very hot shower and totally scrubbed the crap out of my feet that I finally felt safe and whole. I felt overcome with relief, and as soon as my germ-recoiling muscles were finally able to relax…
