Things continue to fall apart

Last night I went home and Angie was mad. Delta had changed our Merida flights in October. This is the second time they've done it. The first time caused us to book a hotel room in Miami because we were going to have to stay overnight because the layover got so long.

Now we were going to have a nine hour layover in Minneapolis, too.

I told her to call Delta and maybe they'd offer to pay for our Miami hotel or at least bump us up to first class or give us some extra miles or something. She wanted to call Travelocity, where she booked through, but I told her they couldn't do anything. Call Delta directly. And if worse comes to worse, it's really not the end of the world.

I was so tired after we ate and went to lay down for a bit.

When I got up and walked back in the living room she blasted me with the news. "I cancelled."

Did she call Delta? I asked. No, just Travelocity and then she cancelled. Now we'd have to cancel our rental in Merida and everything else.

I was a little overwhelmed by the news. And I didn't act the best. It was the only thing I was looking forward to this year and it was gone, because of a long layover.

I was quiet and I went into the garage to work on some things. Things that didn't need working on at the time, but I had to get out.

Angie came out and asked what my problem was and I erupted, telling her that her terrible anxiety that had developed lately was the real cause for cancelling this trip, and not the layover. Why didn't she call Delta first?

She's cancelled, or attempted to cancel, trips with her sisters over the last year and a half because her anxiety gets the best of her and she would come up with an excuse to cancel that clears her conscience. That might have been the case this time, too.

But she didn't deserve me accusing her of it. That wasn't going to help. I was so devastated that it was just a knee-jerk reaction. But she didn't need it now, on top of everything else.

I apologized and told her I was being a jerk and had no right to act that way. That was all true. It's embarrassing that a grown man acts like a child, but I have to be honest here. I don't want to just paint myself with a false-positive brush. I'm human and I make mistakes, and boy are they often dumb ones.

I told her I wasn't upset, it was just the shock from waking up from a nap and being hit in the face with it. No big deal. Merida wasn't going anywhere. We'd get there again. This was mostly a lie.

I was and still am crushed. I know this makes me sound childish, and I am, of course. What follows is not an excuse as much as an explanation.

Part of the reason I started this blog was because I have nobody else to really talk to about it. And I know that it is unlikely anyone will ever read this besides myself, but I just need to get it out there. Maybe releasing it will help me understand everything that has happened better, too.

The reason I have nobody else to talk to about this is that my Merida dream is largely a secret. We have never told Angie's family about it because they are extremely conservative, scared of Mexico (and the world at large) and would hate it and think we were terrible fools for even considering it. And Angie doesn't want to get the family guilt trips and sermons associated with it.

We don't tell our friends because often that brings about feelings of, I don't know if it's jealousy or what a better term would be. Sometimes we felt it in our travels around the world. The "must be nice" reactions and attitudes. We were spoiled or overly privileged, and that's not untrue to some extent. But we're not rich.

Angie has had one dream. Travel before we're old and can't travel well, or before something happens that causes us not to travel. And I have had one dream. Retire early to a warm place without snow, probably to a country with a lower cost of living, since we're not rich.

Of course, we've been blessed by having great families that have supported us through all the ups and downs of our lives. We're very spoiled in that.

But we also haven't had children, we drive the same vehicles we had when we started dating, we live in a small house that we have slowly fixed up over the last eight years, we don't buy or own a lot of clothes or jewelry, don't generally drink or socialize out at bars or clubs and are just fairly frugal, without being cheap.

It looks cool when we're climbing the dunes of the Sossusvlei, like we're somehow rich, but we've sacrificed a lot of things for it.

All of that said, when we decided we would buy a house in Merida we agreed we would not tell other people. Someday they would find out, sure. But not now.

I have a couple friends who know it's a dream of mine, but even they don't know exactly how passionate I am about it and how close we've come.

So, the only one I have to talk to about any of this is you.

All of the events over the last year and a half: All of the terribleness with my dad, I've said 'goodbye' to him at least three times because we thought he was going to die. Thankfully he's been pretty stubborn and keeps kicking ass. Having to put my dog to sleep. Dealing with Angie's new and worsening anxiety. Thinking I bought two houses in Merida that ended up falling through. Angie losing her job.

Through it all, I've had to pretend to be confident and 'strong' for everyone. For my dad and mom, for Angie, for myself. Try to be sunshine and positivity.

"Everything is going to be fine and work out, you'll see."

And so I don't want to show my cracks and I can't explain to people how I feel because I can't tell them why I'm hurt or sad. I feel crushed, but feel like I need try to stand and keep the veneer.

So, yeah, losing the trip to Merida was a big blow. I still had no right to be mean to Angie about it, and I'm glad I apologized, but I am now honestly unsure what the future holds.

When I started this blog, two weeks ago or so, I was trying to buy into my positive attitude and was sure that it wouldn't be long in the future I'd start to have good news to post. And in a couple months I'd have photos and tales of our latest trip to Merida.

Now I just don't know. Today I am on the verge of giving up and just accepting it's not going to happen. Maybe it's just the sadness talking, but I feel like waving goodbye to Merida forever.

But I know tomorrow I'll be better. And the sun will rise and I'll be happy and ready to fight for my dream again. Because what value does a dream possess if you're not going to fight for it? And won't it feel even sweeter once it's accomplished since you've traversed the bumps and bruises along the way? I hope so.

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