2 Weeks in Cartagena: What I Learned About Myself

 Two weeks in Cartagena taught me just how much my mental illness limits me. So boom, I did my almost annual international birthday trip and decided to really challenge myself this time. After multiple covid infections plus a concussion, I have been worried about cognitive decline and struggling with anything involving memorization and concentration. So instead of my four days to one week of birthday travel, I decided to spend two weeks in Cartagena, Colombia for leisure and to attend immersive Spanish classes. This ended up being the worst international trip that I’ve taken thus far. All of the negative parts about this trip had nothing to do with the country of Colombia and everything to do with how debilitating my bipolar disorder and ADHD are. Also living with yet-to-be-fully-diagnosed chronic illnesses that contribute to me just not feeling well/ myself didn’t help.

I was hoping that attending an immersive Spanish class would eliminate the issues I have with self-lead language learning. Those issues include an inability to focus and remain consistent due to lack of structure and how easily distracted I am. But I haven’t been in a classroom in over a decade and underestimated how difficult this would be for me. Then on top of the overall struggles of jumping back into a learning environment, the humidity and air quality of Cartagena caused me to develop a severe sinus infection that made it feel like, I was moving through mud cognitively. Not only could I not fully enjoy my time in a new country, but I also couldn’t accomplish the overall task of going to class for about 4 hours each day. 

Whether I was engaging in an activity for fun or education, I couldn’t enjoy myself or absorb the information I was learning because so much of my energy was either used to keep myself fed and hydrated or it just wasn’t “in the tank.” Everything I did took a toll on me emotionally and/ or physically. So much so that despite there being some bright spots in the trip, I overall regretted going entirely. There were days that I could not leave my Airbnb because I was drowning in anxiety and my depression was like an anchor.

My partner joined me the second week of my trip, and I ended up having a day where I had a complete nonverbal shutdown and I couldn’t speak. I tried and my mouth would move, but no sound came out. Every time I tried to speak I was on the verge of tears. This was after we argued about my being inconsiderate (which opened a whole other can of worms for me and how I am really bad at understanding social cues and how others view my behavior). 

I ended up having to text him everything I needed to tell him. When I forced myself to leave the apartment I had to have him order food for me at restaurants. I honestly just could not fathom doing anything other than lying in bed. I also couldn’t sleep for shit while I was there so on top of everything else I was sleep deprived. I ended up fighting every day to get my money’s worth and enjoy the experience, but I feel like I shouldn’t have had to. I felt burnt out from my vacation. 

Cartagena, Colombia was also a sensory overload for me. Lights, sounds, being mindful of cars since traffic laws seem to be merely a suggestion, having to be hyper-aware of where I was walking because the ground wasn’t the smoothest or best maintained, the heat, the humidity, constantly being sold things, etc. I tried to go skating outside one time and had a full-blown panic attack, that led me to be super embarrassed because I had a tantrum and threw my skates. Just a complete meltdown. Imagine me, 39 years old being so overwhelmed and unable to express those feelings verbally that I regressed to my childhood self. I felt not just embarrassed, but guilty because I was ruining my partner’s vacation as well. 

I know I was doing a lot of masking of my neurodivergence, but it didn’t occur to me that I haven’t had to mask at that level since I don’t know when. Between the language barriers, the stress of never being able to go out in public and be left alone because someone was always trying to sell me something and they don’t take no for an answer, being hypervigilant because I’m a solo, female traveler in a foreign country, and trying to hide my anxiety, depression, and ADHD symptoms; I didn’t just burn the candle at both ends, I threw the candle into a bonfire. 

I’m thankfully back in the States now. Back in my sensory-friendly apartment where the lights aren’t too bright, the sounds aren’t too loud, and I don’t have to interact with people at nearly the same rate. This has eased the anxiety I was feeling while abroad, but other than that I’m still depressed and exhausted. I need a vacation, from my vacation. 

This trip was a stark reminder that I cannot manage life like everybody else. I cannot do the same things that other people do, in the same ways they do it.  I need a lot more downtime and accommodation than the average person. Being reminded of all of this hurts. I’m disappointed and angry with myself, and I question every improvement I thought I had made over the years. 

This trip also added to another layer of worry for me, particularly after having Covid and a concussion from a car accident. Am I in a more rapid state of cognitive decline? Is my physical health also continuing to decline? Am I ready and able to reach out to doctors with these questions and be told that it’s all in my head and that the tests are all “normal?” Do I really want to fight to get a diagnosis that still won’t be taken seriously?  

On top of trying to grab what little moments of joy I could on this trip, I was also feeling immense grief and guilt that multiple ongoing genocides were happening. The overwhelming insignificance of who I am on the large scale of human existence and not being able to provide any tangible help or solutions has been troubling. My voice doesn’t matter concerning my own life and it doesn’t matter in relation to wanting other people to have a better life. So what purpose does my life serve? 

This whole trip opened a can of worms for me that I didn’t know existed or rather I thought I had kind of closed the lid on. It’s left me with more insecurities than before I left. It has me questioning every relationship, friendship, and social interaction I’ve ever had. It has me questioning why I bother to keep trying to keep going. It’s left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. While some people will tell you that’s part of the point of traveling internationally, getting out of your comfort zone, and being uncomfortable, this is far from what I ever wanted or intended.