#Sevendays to go

I have to admit: this is not where I wanted to be, seven days before my adventure (which, let’s face it, in my mind has DonaldJTrumped itself into a Pilgrimage by now).

Three weeks ago, just back from Namibia and ready to take on the world, I had visions of a 21 day -3-days-per-chakra-preparation phase that would prime me physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually to take this “next step on my path”.

But here I am – sick, sore, unable to get out of bed. I never learn, do I?

Let me catch you up: 3 weeks ago, I finally received a diagnosis that explains the collection of oddball symptoms I’ve come to refer to as psychosomatica dramaticus. A diagnosis I find “acceptable”, which was confirmed by actual blood tests and is not hypochondria or a blanket sentence called depression.

Here’s something I never really realised before: an acceptable diagnosis does not equal a cure.

I’m still sick. I’m having immune responses from treatment. And the pressure to be better adds new levels of striving and disappointment.

So now, one week before I leave, I find myself in limbo.

I’m ill, I’m unprepared, I haven’t read my books, I’ve overspent by a mile. I don’t speak Lao yet, and I don’t know the first thing about teaching English grammar.

I’m ready to not be here, but I’m not yet ready to be there.

I have #sevendays to make the transition.