Chaos Ensues
Welcome back, lovelies and beau’s, to another New Beginnings & Transformations Series post! If you haven’t had a chance to dive into the first two parts of this series, I highly recommend starting there. The first post, “Tale of Two Lives,” sets the stage, while “The Adventure Awaits” begins to unravel the threads of what’s to come. Trust me, it’s worth catching up!
You know how some books or podcasts start slow but then suddenly pull you in, leaving you completely hooked? That’s exactly what this series is building toward. The first two posts laid the groundwork for what’s set to unfold, but today, we’re diving into the heart of the story—the messy, emotional, and utterly chaotic moments that defined this transformation. Get ready to uncover the twists, turns, and raw truths that bring this journey to life. Let’s dive in!
Day 4
The next morning, as we discussed the plans for the day, it was decided that we’d make our way over to the Dunes. While figuring out the carpooling situation, my sister-in-law mentioned that my brother wanted us to travel together to “get to know each other better.” Meanwhile, everyone else would ride with my niece. Although the idea wasn’t bad, I wasn’t in the right mindset. After the tension from the night before, I just wanted some space to collect myself. To me, things still felt uneasy. I also couldn’t help but feel disappointed because I had been looking forward to spending time with my everyone. The trip, in my mind, was about all of us enjoying time together, but that sense of togetherness seemed to be slipping away. Ever since I had mentioned my fear of the mountains, it felt like it had been blown out of proportion, turned into a bigger deal than it was. In reality, I think my initial reaction was just surprise at the sheer height of it all—it was a new and overwhelming experience for me.
After that first night, though, I had already started to adjust. The fear I felt before had faded away. What I hadn’t adjusted to yet were the physical effects I was experiencing. I still dealt with what I believe to be altitude sickness: headaches, shortness of breath, and persistent insomnia. While I was doing my best to acclimate, it felt like my body and emotions were on two different wavelengths.
Once we were on the road, my brother and I had the chance to talk. At first, the conversation felt awkward. I couldn’t help but reflect on how differently I had imagined this trip going. I hadn’t anticipated feeling so emotionally mixed and physically drained. It felt like every time I adjusted to one thing, another challenge came up. As we talked, my brother revisited several topics, one of which was from the night before—his suggestion that I can’t live my life in fear. While I understood where he was coming from, I realized I had misspoken. It’s not that I’m afraid of fire—I simply don’t like them. What truly scares me are wildfires—those uncontrollable, destructive forces like the devastating California wildfires that have made headlines—to donate, click here. Bonfires, on the other hand, just aren’t something I enjoy. I don’t like the smell of smoke lingering on me, and they’re not something I actively seek out. If I were at home, I might join one and just take a shower afterward, but in this situation, it felt different.
What didn’t help was that I’m naturally the quietest and shyest person in our family. I’m not into parties, and I prefer more low-key moments with a small group of people I feel close to. I tend to take my time warming up to new people, and that added another layer of stress. I wasn’t at ease, and the combination of unfamiliar surroundings, new people, and lingering tension made it even harder to fully engage. On top of that, my routine was completely thrown off—my sleep, my eating habits, and my general sense of stability all felt out of sync. I’m not saying this as an excuse, but the adjustment period was particularly tough for me. Plans seemed to change constantly. I’d prepare for one thing, only to find out something else had shifted. It often felt like I was the last to know what was happening. I didn’t need to be involved in every decision, but I wanted to feel included, like I was part of the family dynamic. Instead, I often felt like I didn’t quite fit in, which only amplified the sense of isolation.
After driving through small towns and the open countryside, we finally arrived at a campground tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by flat grasslands, the distant Dunes and mountains loomed straight ahead, creating a sense of isolation, as though we were in a desert with no clear way back. Upon checking in, the plans quickly shifted. The Dunes would now be saved for tomorrow. In the meantime, the group decided to enjoy the pool—or what I thought was just a regular pool.
Before joining them, I needed a moment to gather myself. The car ride had left me feeling a bit car sick.. It felt as though my blood pressure seemed to drop or something, and I was overcome with nausea, weakness, and a feeling like I might faint. It came on suddenly and without warning. My sister-in-law insisted I open the window behind me, but I lacked the energy to do anything. I tried to explain, but the weakness made it hard to speak. Frustrated, she opened the window for me. I stepped outside for a bit of fresh air, hoping it would help. After a few moments, I felt better and was able to change.
We all made our way inside, and I was greeted by the sight of a large rectangular pool filled with shouting kids, a puppy or two, and adults and families alike taking scenery. Nearby was a snack bar. I followed our group to the back and walked down a hallway that angled slightly downwards, illuminated with bright lighting. At the end of the hall were doors leading to a restricted area, only accessible to those 21 and older. Luckily, we met the age requirement, but I realized I had forgotten my ID in the RV. My sister-in-law kindly joined me as we walked back to retrieve it.
Once we returned, we entered through the doors to find a long, narrow pool with a tiny waterfall at one end, surrounded by chairs. The area was calm and serene compared to the chaos outside. There were other sections to explore, including a grassy area and more doors leading to the outdoors. Four hot tubs, each set to a different temperature, lined the space. It was then I learned that this wasn’t just a regular pool, but natural hot springs. People came here specifically for the therapeutic benefits of the water, to heal and rejuvenate their bodies.
While the group headed straight into the pool, I needed a moment to regroup. I was still feeling light-headed, so I took my time to relax and regain my composure. Once I felt better, I joined them, and it was nothing short of magical. I immediately fell in love with the experience. Growing up, I was always a water lover, even competing as a swimmer for a time. I’ve always enjoyed hot temperatures—whether it’s the weather, a warm shower, or the temperature of the pool. So this opportunity was by all means perfect for me. The warmth and peacefulness of the water allowed me to drift into a state of pure tranquility.
At one point, my brother and I ordered drinks, and he struck up a conversation with the bartender, who mixed up a delicious concoction. I can't recall exactly what was in it, but it was amazing. My niece and her best friend also tried a sip and loved it, so they ordered a couple for themselves. As we sipped on our drinks and enjoyed some snacks, we spent time talking and exploring the area.
Eventually, my niece, her best friend, and my sister-in-law headed back to the RV to do some laundry. My brother and I decided to stay behind and meet some new people. My brother quickly made friends with a guy who told us about a waterfall located in the opposite direction from the Dunes and chatted about his business. When he left, the girls returned, but we were surprised to find out they had already eaten dinner without us. Both my brother and I had been expressing our hunger the whole time, so it was a bit of a shock. We’d ordered jalapeño poppers to tide us over until dinner, expecting to have a meal together later.
As my brother and I made our way to the RV to do laundry, he decided to grab a bite to eat. I was already full from the appetizers, so I wasn’t hungry anymore and figured I’d wait until I felt like eating. So, I left and rejoined the group back at the pool.
Later in the evening, my brother and I decided to visit the hot tubs. In one, we met a few people who had traveled from all over just to be there. They were chatting with my brother about properties, as he was considering buying land, among other topics. As we moved to another hot tub, we joined a couple who were visiting from Ireland. They were friendly and laid-back, and we had some great conversations with them.
While we were talking, a police search team arrived and started scanning the area. The Irish gentleman made a comment, but the officers didn’t respond. They went outside and used flashlights to search the area, then came back inside and swept the entire premises. Nothing seemed to come from it but it was an interesting part of the night.
There was another guy sitting in the hottest hot tub with ease, while my brother and I could only manage a few minutes at a time before needing to cool off. We stayed in the hot tubs until the place closed, feeling relaxed and at peace.
When we returned to the RV, the rest of the group was already back. We talked a little before discussing the plans for the next day. I expressed interest in visiting the Dunes, but everyone else seemed to want to skip it and do other activities. As I shifted my attention to playing a game on my phone, I'm not sure if my behavior irritated anyone, but we ended up in a disagreement about my eating habits. In front of everyone, I was confronted that in order to avoid getting car sick, I needed to eat. Except after the appetizers I had, I just wasn’t hungry. I knew if I forced myself to eat, I would feel sick as well. It was a lose-lose situation. But yet again, my brother wouldn't let it go. He kept arguing with me. My niece also got upset, emphasizing that I don’t know what is needed (appetite-wise) for the activities we were doing. Maybe I didn’t, but I knew my own body. I was eating enough for me, and this just wasn’t a week where I was that hungry. I am self-aware. I know my body and I could tell the difference between being hungry and the other symptoms I was experiencing. The more outspoken and frustrated they became, the more upset I felt. Every time I tried to speak up, it felt like my experience was ignored and I was challenged at every turn.
Frustrated and emotionally drained, I left the RV. I sat at the picnic table in my pajamas, under the rain, between two RVs. I was visibly shaken, and at that moment, I was done with the trip. I was done feeling unheard, unseen, and like I didn’t belong with my own family. It honestly felt like the worst I had ever been made to feel by them. I even considered hitchhiking home, but I knew we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dark, vast emptiness. Instead, I texted a family member who my brother had described as compassionate during a previous disagreement. I just wanted understanding and, honestly, some compassion. While I didn’t receive complete empathy, at least I felt heard, and that was something.
After a while, I moved to the car to get out of the rain. Eventually, my brother came out to find me. He confronted me again, expressing that he wouldn’t let me stay out there and asked me to come inside. I told him I didn’t feel safe, though I couldn’t find the words to fully express it. I knew, deep down, that I felt emotionally and mentally attacked, physically trapped with no space to retreat too. There had been comments made throughout the trip that, although I tried to brush them off, still hurt. It felt like everyone else was was in the group, and I was on the outside. It felt intentional—like my family was excluding me. I was confused. I had always been supportive and proud of them, but this behavior was a huge shock. I didn’t understand where it was coming from, especially since it seemed to start at the very beginning of the trip.
I felt emotionally and emotionally unsafe and physically trapped. I trusted their experiences and rationales without question. What I wished for, though, was that they could have approached the situation from a place of understanding. In hindsight, I realize emotions were running high, but all I really wanted was for someone to acknowledge how I was feeling. It didn’t mean they had to agree with me, but I needed to feel heard. Instead, it felt like I was being attacked, even though they may have been trying to help. Yelling at me only severed ties more. To me, it came across as controlling and belittling, even if that wasn’t the intention. It made me scared to share my feelings and be myself, and enjoy the trip.
Not long after agreeing to return to the RV, I asked my brother to grab my pillow and blanket from the back room. Whether he forgot or got sidetracked, he never brought them. I mentioned it to my niece and her friend, but nothing came of that either. Without my pillow, I curled up in the corner of the couch, trying to get some sleep. I eventually found another blanket to use, but still no pillow, so I didn’t sleep well that night.
Day 5
The next morning, once everyone was awake, we got ready and had breakfast. I kept it simple, eating meat, cheese, and crackers to settle my stomach.
However, that morning, another disagreement unfolded. My sister-in-law, clearly noticing my discomfort and strained demeanor, pulled me aside and gently suggested that I look for flights home. Her words, though well-meaning, hit me hard, amplifying my internal conflict. I nodded, silently opening my phone to search for options, hoping to find some clarity.
As I scrolled through flight listings, my brother suggested, his tone casual but firm. “Try this site,” he said, naming a discount service he thought might help. His input added another layer to the already overwhelming situation, but I complied. The prices weren’t significantly different, yet it didn’t matter. I purchased a one-way ticket anyway, my hands trembling slightly as I confirmed the booking.
The moment the confirmation email hit my inbox, a wave of relief washed over me. It felt as if the invisible weight I’d been carrying finally eased. Suddenly, I wasn’t trapped anymore. The sense of being stuck in an emotional spiral lifted, and for the first time in days, I could breathe. Knowing there was a way out made everything feel less turbulent, giving me a renewed sense of control in a trip that had spun so wildly off course.
Before heading to the Dunes, we decided to check out the waterfall a Coloradan had recommended. On the drive there, I still felt car sick, but I managed it by taking things slow and sipping water until I felt better. When we arrived, the climb to the waterfall was steep, so I paced myself while staying close enough to the group to avoid any wildlife encounters. At the top, my brother encouraged me to check out the waterfall. However, after seeing others struggle despite having proper water shoes, I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead, I explored the surrounding area.
Not long after, I started to feel an ache in my stomach, so I let my niece know I was heading back to the trailhead to use the bathroom. After rehydrating and taking a moment to regroup, I began climbing back up to meet the rest of the group. As luck would have it, I ran into them on their way down and joined them. From there, we got in the car and headed toward the Dunes. This time, they drove more cautiously, taking turns and bumps slowly, which made a huge difference. By the time we arrived, I didn’t feel car sick at all.
At the Dunes, we split into two groups. My brother and I decided to climb the dunes together, knowing we had an hour to explore. Though we weren’t entirely confident we could make it to the top and back down in time, we were determined to give it our best shot. Climbing up the Dunes was unlike any workout I’d ever done before. I had been running and walking at this point, but running uphill on sand was a completely different challenge. A fun one, but still a challenge. About a third of the way up, we came across a massive hill. Both of us made attempts to run up it. My brother decided to keep pushing forward, while I turned back to take a breather. I stood at the base of the hill and watched as he made his way to the top.
If there was one thing to take away from this moment, it was how impressive he was under a time crunch. He was determined and didn’t waste a second. I, on the other hand, operate a little differently in those situations. Still, watching him reach the top was inspiring.
Once he made his way back down, we both realized we needed to run back quickly if we were going to make it to the shop before it closed. When we reached the bottom and regrouped, we still had some time. So, we took a moment to enjoy the creek, letting the cool water help us recover from the heat and sand. Afterward, we drove over to the shop where I bought a shirt to remember the experience. Visiting the Dunes was easily one of my favorite parts of the trip. It was one of the few times I felt truly included, connected, and part of something bigger than myself.
From there, we made our way to our next destination: Pagosa Springs. Along the drive, we were treated to a stunning sunset. While the rest of the group had the chance to stop and take photos, I was stuck in the RV. With its slow and steady pace and no safe option to pull over on the shoulder, I had to make do. As I was experiencing some FOMO, I tried my best to capture the beauty of the sunset through the window as we made our way down the mountain.
By the time we arrived in Pagosa Springs, night had already fallen. We found an open parking lot to settle in for the night. But before turning in, we decided to grab some dinner. We found a Mexican restaurant, and I ordered a vegetarian enchilada plate with refried beans and rice. It was delicious and filling—the perfect way to end the long day of travel.
Day 6:
The next morning turned out to be one of the craziest days I’ve ever experienced—though at the time, I had no idea how chaotic it would become. It all started when I went outside to grab clothes from the car. As I stepped onto the ground, I slipped in the mud. I managed to catch myself with my hand, but not without a couple of minor scrapes and a sore wrist that would bother me for the rest of the day. My shoes, however, took the worst of it and were completely covered in mud. Frustrated, I took them off before stepping back into the RV and set them aside in the car, knowing I would have to figure something out later on.
Once we arrived at the Riverwalk/Downtown area of Pagosa Springs, my brother suggested I rinse off my shoes in the river. It made sense, so I took his advice and stayed behind while the group went ahead, agreeing to catch up with them once I was finished. Cleaning the mud off took longer than I expected, but I eventually put my shoes in the car and texted to ask if they wanted me to lock it. After receiving confirmation, I followed their directions and made my way down the trail.
They told me they were at Root House Coffee and Shop, but I wasn’t entirely sure where that was and how to get there. After wandering around a bit, I finally figured it out. When I arrived, there was a long line, and the group had already ordered and received their items. I grabbed a coffee and a breakfast snack, but just as I sat down to join them, they got up to leave. Feeling rushed, I told them to go ahead without me—I needed a moment to sit and eat. My sister-in-law stayed behind with me, while my niece and her friend wandered off. Meanwhile, my brother went back inside to grab a snack of his own.
I tried to eat and drink quickly so no one would have to wait too long. Once we were all ready, we took a walk along the path, stopping to admire the shops and learn more about Pagosa Springs. As it turns out, this town is home to the deepest natural hot spring in the world, located right in the river. That same river is also used for white-water rafting, which made it all the more fascinating.
While my brother and sister-in-law explored a shop, the three of us stayed outside with the puppy, talking and enjoying the day. Before eventually wrapping up, we headed back to the RV, and packed everything up. From there, we set off toward Durango to take me to the airport so I could fly home. At this point, it seemed like a fairly normal day. But that was about to change.
While we were driving, I realized with growing dread that I had booked my flight for the wrong date—it wasn’t scheduled for another couple of days. My heart sank. There was no way I could wait that long, and I knew I had to admit my mistake, which I dreaded more than anything. I braced myself for the worst. To my surprise, my sister-in-law remained calm, though my brother was understandably frustrated. I was frustrated with myself, too—I couldn’t believe I had made such a careless mistake. We pulled over so I could join my brother in the RV, and he helped me try to resolve the issue.
Unfortunately, we were driving through areas with poor signal, which made the process even more stressful. I managed to find a much more expensive flight, but just as I was about to book it, the system informed me that my credit card was declined. Panicking, I tried my debit card, but it was declined as well. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
My brother then suggested I call the bank to figure out why both my cards were being declined. Just as we’d get someone on the line to assist, the call would disconnect. It was maddening. We tried several times, but the same thing kept happening. Frustration was building rapidly, and it felt like we were hitting one dead end after another. There had to be a way to fix this.
Eventually, we reached a town where the signal was stronger, and I finally managed to stay connected with both the bank and the airline. As it turned out, my cards were declined due to the original flight I booked. This only made everything more complicated. While trying to cancel that flight and get reimbursed, I was still trying to figure out how to book a flight with only a couple hours to spare, if that.
When I reached out to my parents for help with the flight—especially since my cards had been declined and another was waiting to be reimbursed—my brother insisted that I call our dad and mom in front of him. He wanted to listen to the entire conversation, as though he didn’t trust me. It felt controlling, as if he was afraid I might mention how he had been treating me. The whole situation felt intimidating, when all I was really seeking was comfort and support during this time crunch.
Once that was settled, I focused on contacting the bank and airline at the same time. But I still couldn’t make the payment go through. To make matters worse, by the time we resolved the card issue, the last available seats on the flight were gone. I was devastated. I thought I’d finally secured a way to get home, to escape the stress and exhaustion that had built up over the past few days. Instead, I was faced with the prospect of staying on this trip for another week, stuck in an endless cycle of frustration and emotional strain.
My brother, clearly stressed himself, pointed out that there were no other airports nearby and suggested that I might as well finish out the trip. I could hardly process his words. The idea of powering through another week like this felt unbearable. When I went to share the update with the rest of the group, my disappointment and frustration were written all over my face. They tried to stay positive, but I couldn’t match their optimism. I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown.
The accumulation of everything I’d been dealing with—sleepless nights, disrupted eating habits, altitude sickness, constant car sickness, allergies, and now this financial mess—was overwhelming. I felt completely unsupported, like I was drowning in responsibilities and challenges with no relief in sight. It was too much to bear, so I called my parents in utter despair. I needed someone to hear me, to care, to offer the kind of comfort I hadn’t found during this trip.
Looking back now, I can see just how much I was struggling. It’s difficult to reflect on that time because there are so many emotions tied to it—frustration, sadness, helplessness, confusion, shock and even anger. The stress I carried on that trip was monumental, and the lack of understanding and support made it all the harder to endure. It’s clear to me now that I wasn’t in a good place, emotionally or physically, and I wish I’d had the space and support to manage it better.
As I sat crying, feeling defeated and overwhelmed, my brother came to me with unexpected news—they had found a solution. All of a sudden, things were moving forward again, and I had another shot at making it home. However, there was one catch: my sister-in-law would now have to race us to the airport to ensure I made the flight. Determined, we set off, sticking to the speed limit but pushing the limits of time.
We arrived just in the nick of time. As I hurried up to the counter, my heart still racing, the airline agent greeted me. She informed me that I would need to pay a bag fee before I could board. I hesitated, knowing there was a good chance my cards still wouldn’t work. When I explained the situation to her, she surprised me with something I hadn’t experienced much on this trip: empathy. With a warm and understanding tone, she reassured me. “If your cards don’t work,” she said, “we’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure you get on that flight.” Her words felt like a lifeline in the middle of a storm. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone was kind, someone saw my struggle, and someone cared enough to offer support. It was a small moment, but it felt so enlightening—a reminder that not all hope was lost.
To give you an idea of just how small this airport was, there was only one other person in the security line. It had just one terminal and three gates—easily the smallest airport I’ve ever been to. It’s considered a regional airport for the Four Corners region, but that didn't change how tiny it felt.
After going to the bathroom near my gate, I returned to find I was called to the front. The staff member informed me that there were three tickets listed under my name. Once I explained the whole chaotic ordeal, she was able to fix the issue with ease. I sat back down, feeling a slight sense of relief. After a few short minutes passed, the flight began boarding. And let me tell you, this was the smallest plane I’d ever been on. It was a regional jet, with a capacity of just 50 to 76 seats. The flight was from Durango to Denver International Airport.
While the view of the mountains from the plane was stunning, the ride was far from smooth. The turbulence was intense, and given the light weight of the aircraft, it felt even more jolting than I was used to. At times, it was so unsettling that I found myself praying for the best case scenario. Someway, somehow, I made it through the flight—another challenge to check off on my list of "surviving this trip."
Once I arrived at Denver International Airport, I decided to take a walk around to explore and find my next gate. It was my first time at this airport, my first layover, and it was a long one—a 6-hour wait. The lengthy gap actually turned out to be a blessing. It gave me time to look around, stretch my legs, and figure out how to navigate the airport.
It took me two loops in Terminal B before I realized I needed to head to Terminal A. If you’ve never been to Denver International, here's a tip: go to the bottom floor where the subway is. From there, you can take the subway to the terminal you're looking for. Once I figured that out, my next mission was food. During the flight, a woman had mentioned there was a Chick-Fil-A in the airport, so naturally, that’s where I set my sights.
But finding it was a little more challenging than I anticipated. I ended up asking a pilot for directions, and after ordering my food, the next hurdle was finding a place to sit. It took a while, but once I found an open table, I was just grateful to sit down and enjoy my meal.
Afterward, I continued walking around the terminal. I had fun on the escalators, determined to get my steps in while passing the time. Eventually, I made my way toward my gate, but since it was still early, Chicago wasn’t even listed yet. Instead, I found a table with a plug to charge my phone and settled in.
That’s when I struck up a conversation with two friendly men who were also waiting for their flights to Ontario, California. As we chatted, I kept getting confused—thinking they were talking about Ontario, Canada. It wasn’t until they mentioned something about California that I finally realized there was, in fact, an Ontario in California. They gave me some great advice, and after we parted ways, I went to my gate area to await my flight.
Upon finally boarding my flight home, I found myself in the middle seat. It wasn’t my first choice, but it meant I was on my way home. As the plane began to lift off, the girl sitting next to me started filming the sunset on the horizon. We struck up a conversation, and before I knew it, we were chatting the entire flight. She even sent me a video of the sunset, and we’ve kept in touch ever since.
Once we landed in Chicago, I helped my new friend find her way to the train station before we said our goodbyes. When I met my parents at the airport, I felt a wave of relief. I couldn’t wait to be back in my own bed. I was so exhausted in every which way. All I had been dreaming about was to be back home in my comfy bed with my normal routine. And it finally happened.
I returned on a Friday but I made plans with my new friend on the Sunday. As it had turned out, she was visiting Chicago for the weekend. We agreed to meet up with no specific timeframe but I had hoped to join her earlier in the day rather than the afternoon. However, my body needed to catch up on sleep and I ended up oversleeping. When I awoke, I quickly took a shower and got ready. Originally, I had planned to drive over but the Pride Parade was happening outside so I made the most of it and walked to meet her. It was a pretty far walk and only delayed meeting up a bit more but it was well worth the experience.
I walked from the Peggy Nature Musuem and met her at the bottom of the John Hancock building. While I was waiting at the bottom, I grabbed a Starbucks drink and hungout. Once we greeted each other and caught up for a few minutes, we made our way over to Lou Malnati’s for some Deep Dish pizza. I tried to help initiate her into the Chicago traditions straight away. During our meal, we planned our next moves, I suggested showing her a few spots including: Lincoln Park Zoo, North Avenue Beach but once she voiced that she was interested in seeing the Chicago Theater, it was decided that was where we would head to next. After all, she only had a few days in the city. She had already made so much good use of her time by seeing the sights, I wanted to make sure to got to see everything that was on her wishlist. On our walk over, we sat along the Riverwalk and took a couple photos. She told me about some of the historical facts she had learned during her architectural tour. The reason for the stairs along the riverwalk was so that there could be movie nights. I informed her that Art on the Mart also happens in this location as well.
From there, we were only a few blocks away. However, the time she had remaining was ticking. So, we started heading to the theater. Once we got there, she took some of her own photos and I took a couple of her in front of the theater. After chatting a little bit more, we figured out which “L” stop she needed and rushed to get her there. It had been a while since I had personally taken the “L” so at first, I directed her to the exit side and then we had to find the entrance. Just as we did, a train pulled up to the station. So, we said our quick goodbyes and went our separate ways. Honestly, it all felt so surreal. Particularly after the trip I just returned from, meeting this new friend, and then, going on out a limb and making plans while they were still in town. Even though the plans were delayed a bit. I felt as though at that very moment, I was living life in the fast lane and loving every second of it.
All in all, the trip turned out to be far more stressful than I ever could have imagined. I’m sure that with all my personal issues—car sickness, altitude sickness, and allergies, it didn’t make things any easier. But even without those, it was a challenge. I felt like I was being pulled in every direction without a clear sense of where I was going. I didn’t know the plans for the day, what constituted a "proper" meal, how to live properly on the road and in an RV, or how incredibly difficult it was to take a shower in one. There were so many unexpected lessons along the way. It was nothing like the vacation I had envisioned, or the quality family time I had hoped for.
But if there was anything I learned, it was to expect the unexpected. Perhaps, it should be my new life motto. Because I thought the trip would go in another completely different direction than it did. I was shocked—and, I’m still at a loss of words for how everything turned out. I felt betrayed by my own family. Family I looked up to for years. All the memories we made before this trip, were always positive in my mind. They supported my gameboard idea as I did with their other business ideas. While the hurt and pain remained long after the trip ended, the love and care never faded. I will always wish the best for them even if our relationship is not where I wish it would be. I do NOT wish harm or negativity their way.
Instead, I chose to live life with compassion, with understanding that there is more than one perspective to an experience, and a willingness to consider views and opinions other than my own even when it hurts. I prefer honesty over deception, kindness over humiliation, and loyalty and care of those closest to me. Unfortunarely, the trip seemed to put a strain on the relationships. I’ve tried reaching out. I’ve apologized for my part, I’ve given time and space as well as expressing my own discontent but things aren’t the same, and I’m not sure if they will ever be.
Because I made a quick exit from the trip, I also left a few items behind. I have reached out several times, but I haven’t received any response. The last I heard from my brother, he mentioned wanting to take me out for lunch. I suggested something quick and casual, like coffee instead. I didn’t want to feel trapped again, and meeting for coffee felt like a safer, more comfortable option—one that would also give us the chance to slowly rebuild our relationship, if we were ever going to get back to the place we were once at.
The family trip through Colorado was meant to be a time of connection and adventure, but instead, it brought a whirlwind of chaos, tension, and emotional strain. What should have been a chance to create happy memories became a test of patience, trust, and resilience. The stress of miscommunications, the weight of unresolved emotions, and the toll of navigating such difficult dynamics left their mark. Yet, even in the midst of the turmoil, there were moments of reflection—moments that revealed the importance of boundaries, healing, and finding strength within. While the journey was far from what anyone expected, it left behind lessons that may one day lead to growth and understanding.
Looking ahead, the next post in this series will be published on Monday, February 3rd, 2025. I’ll also be sharing an updated posting schedule for February soon, so stay tuned!
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
**These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.**
