Every year, in the weeks leading up to my annual trip to Taiwan, the dread starts to set in. It’s almost part of the entire routine and ritual now… a foreboding precursor before I meet my parents again. For some reason, the anxiety felt a little heavier this time. I suspect the weight of it had something to do with me feeling more accepting of my personal limitations and shortcomings. Is it self-acceptance, or is it more an acquiescence or resignation even? I’m not sure, but this time I felt a real fear of losing my temper with them.

In the past, my rage would unfurl at the drop of a pin, with an intensity that took no prisoners. But now that I’m older and their fragility is so much more apparent, I really want to keep my cool and composure. I know the triggers run deep, but I have to do better.

So in my typical fashion, ahead of the visit, I spent time planning logistics: what items needed to be brought back (printer cartridges, new phones, gifts), what gifts to take, what activities to schedule, tasks in advance and during, who to see, where to go, yada, yada. Due to J’s work schedule and Bentley care (always an issue), I was going solo this time, and the 11 days was going to be an eternity.

For most people, that doesn’t sound like an exorbitant amount of time, but keep in mind, I do not even vacation for longer than 5-7 days. Yes, I am that fucking uptight. I think I’ve gone on maybe only two or three trips with J that went longer than 8 days. Needless to say, I was concerned (as were many of my friends) about this duration with my family. In preparation, I scheduled two therapy sessions plus a pedicure and a massage… all to get my bucket topped up. Sure, there were stressors and the usual bullshit that arose at work, but I really tried my damnedest to be in optimal form.

Then, mistake 1: I decided to get my relatives some last-minute gifts necessitating a trip to the mall DURING HOLIDAY SEASON. High risk behavior. Fucking A. Mistake 2: J started exhibiting symptoms but we didn’t give it too much thought, bc he’d been having asthma issues for a bit. Mistake 3: I booked a Thanksgiving week flight– bursting at the damn seams.

And so my journey began… 22-freaking-hrs door-to-door. The flight itself, as I mentioned being the week of Thanksgiving, was of course crazy. Maxed out. The airline kept dangling promos asking passengers to volunteer getting bumped. Despite my propensity for dealios, I resisted. I tried to make the best of a long haul.

Immediately on touchdown, J informed me he tested positive for Covid. Great. Nothing to do about it now, so I hopped the metro, train, and car ride to my parents’ home in Kaohsiung, I didn’t feel so hot on arrival– sniffly nose, burning eyes, headache… then again, I had just traveled for 22 hrs. I took the test. Negative.

In true task master fashion, I very quickly unveiled to Dad my newest strategy for giving him autonomy and control over his matters (Google Fi phone). He gave it a few test runs and after I got his printer back online and working again (you have NO idea how damn buggy all his tech is), he was back in business printing out statements and paperwork– happy as a clam.

A few hours later, I was in bed though, and the fever started ramping up. Yup, an awful start to the dreaded trip. To be candid, I def didn’t do my body any favors with all the pre-trip anxiety and worry. The day after arrival, I knew I was sick… for the first time since 2019 if you can imagine! The test came back a solid positive. Coughing, fever, congestion.

I will say, thankfully, it’s not the sickest I’ve ever been and for that, I am thankful to have received the recent boosters in late October. I’m now in Day 4 of a 5-day quarantine, aka a “forced rest.” Clearly, I’m not good at letting my body take a break. I need to learn some new healthy habits pronto.