We are moving to Belize! T and I have mulled over where to move to, when to move there, and how to make it happen. We have spent countless hours pouring over YouTube, Facebook, personal blogs, and official government websites. We have sold our Jeep and purchased an appropriate vehicle to make the trip. We have purged our belongings and pressed through the renovations on our home in anticipation of selling it. We have bought paddle boards, new swimsuits and new sunglasses. We think, we talk, we dream, and we write about Belize. Its an enthralling recreation, and it is easy to get caught up in the hype of researching, planning, and preparing. We are less than two months from getting in the car and driving south, and now I am hearing a little voice in my head that is asking if this is a good idea.
I am an idealist. I look for the good in everything. I am also a dreamer. I believe all is possible and will work out perfectly. And yet I am a worrier. Perhaps that comes from being a mom. On any given day I can go from upbeat and optimistic, to doubting and being afraid. I have been battling this throughout our retirement journey but have been pretty good about staying positive and pushing down any negative thoughts. Now that we are getting closer to launch, and the plans have been made, I have more time to consider what scares me about our decision.
Image by ErikaWittlieb from Pixabay
Because of my dog, Ozzie, we resolved that driving to Belize was the only good option of getting there. We are also anticipating moving around the country and will be using the car a fair bit. Driving to Belize consists of navigating through four countries and crossing three international borders. One of those countries is Mexico. Thoughts of vacationing in Mexico bring to mind white beaches, blue oceans, and colorfully dressed locals. Thoughts on driving through Mexico suggest corrupt police shakedowns, cartel car jackings, and murders and kidnappings. It is easy to find people who say there are no dangers as long as you take a few precautions and are aware of your surroundings, similar to how you would act in your home country. It is also easy to find people who tell horror stories of their own ordeals, and those floating around the internet, who warn that no one should try to make such a trip. T and I have tried to use common sense and be practical about the risks versus the need to drive a vehicle down. As you know, we have decided to do it. But that doesn’t mean that I am not feeling cautious. Sometimes I feel like I am being overly worried, sometimes I feel like I am not being worried enough! We have carefully chosen our vehicle as one that should not attract too much attention. We have chosen our route according to those who have gone before us and will monitor reports from them as we cross into Mexico to help choose which is the safest border crossing at that time. We are currently planning to have long driving days to avoid spending too many days on the road, but have back up overnight locations in case our itinerary is interrupted. We have prepared ourselves for the inevitable police check points. And we have discussed appropriate actions in case of other troubles. We hope that we will have a very smooth and uneventful drive and not need any of this preparation. But the thoughts of “What if…?” still work their way into my mind occasionally.
Image by Mario Schmidt from Pixabay
Having Ozzie on this holiday will be a blessing for me. If a person and a dog can be soul mates, then he and I are just that. From the moment Oz was placed in my arms, shivering from fear and covered in urine, we have been each others comfort. I cannot imagine being separated from him had we tried to find him a place to stay while we are gone. Since he is originally from the Caribbean, he should adjust just fine to living in Belize. He goes on road trips with us, he loves to run beside my bike, he kayaks with me, and he loves the heat. Although we will need to make concessions in our adventure because we have a dog, I know we will find a way to make it work and I’m sure he will enjoy his new life. But I worry about him anyway. What if we have trouble at the border crossings because his paperwork isn’t what is wanted? What if I cannot find a nutritious diet for him? What is he gets sick or injured and cannot make the long journey to a veterinary hospital? What if he gets bitten by a snake or licks a cane toad or gets attacked by local dogs or gets poisoned? Just like a mama bear, I am uber protective of my boy, but I know we have prepared as much as we can to bring him with us.
T and I talk about how excited we are to be someplace hot. We discuss how amazing it will be to wake up in the mooring and put on a t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops. But what if we actually can’t tolerate the heat when there is no relief? We love the ocean and ocean sports, but what if my fear of sharks interferes with my ability to enjoy the water? (There was just a horrific shark attack on a 15-year-old girl near Half Moon Caye in Belize this month, but this incident is extremely rare.) We are excited about a new lifestyle, but what if I discover I can’t adjust to the culture, the lack of amenities, or the laissez-faire attitude? What will happen if one of us needs emergency medical care, and we are significantly far from a hospital? There are a number of concerns that rove through my mind when I am unable to sleep at night. There are moments when I wonder why we think we can do this.
What causes me the most apprehension? Where does my mind go time and time again when I am feeling anxious? What gives me cold feet? I am distressed about leaving my family. T and I have aging parents. All three are in their eighties. We are fortunate to have siblings living near them so we know they will not be alone. But it is still hard to be away for a lengthy period of time. We have extended family and friends who will be missed as well. We won’t be able to just meet for lunch or drive to their place for a visit. We will have to work harder to maintain relationships. However, my heart breaks over one thought…leaving our children.
I have been told that we are not leaving our children but giving them a chance to grow. That without Mom and Dad to bail them out of situations, they will blossom into the capable young adults that they were meant to be. (Not that they aren’t already very capable young adults!) I have heard that us going on our adventure could ultimately be a good thing for them. I do get that, but its hard to not feel selfish. We don’t know anyone who has moved countries away from their children. This isn’t a scenario we have seen before. We don’t have experience here. This is new ground. And this is my biggest challenge. I am getting better at quietening my panicked inner voice that asks “What are you thinking? What kind of parents just leave?”. I have talked to the Girl and the Boy to understand how they are feeling and have been reassured by them both that they will be fine. I console myself that we are only a text, a phone call, a video chat, or in an emergency, a direct flight away. And I try to think about additional benefits this move could have for our kids. They will have a consistent and inexpensive place to vacation. A place where they only need to pay for a flight to find themselves at what will basically be a private all-inclusive resort. They can come whenever they like, and we hope they will send or leave grandchildren with us when they are old enough. If we stay as long as we hope to, there will most likely be a legacy property for them in Belize. And we anticipate that we will be spending weeks at a time in Canada during the summers for our own holidays. These are the logical thoughts I force myself to think about in times of trepidation.
Camping during a family reunion July 2024
Do I have cold feet? Maybe. Am I overthinking things? Perhaps. Would I be remiss if I ignored these thoughts and just plunged in with both feet? Probably. When we talk about an adventure, for us, this truly is an adventure, and I am apprehensive. But I recently read a quote posted by a friend on Facebook. It was written by an 84-year-old man living in an Australian nursing home. The final paragraph is this:
“In this warm, cozy room, I am safe, but the price of this safety is a stifling boredom. It is a delicate balance, this life of security tinged with monotony. I am grateful for the comfort, yet I can’t help but long for a touch of the unpredictability that once made life so exhilarating.”
We are choosing to face our fears and brave the unpredictable in our search for an exhilarating life. (But to be clear I will be content if this new life is only mildly exhilarating! Wishing us a pleasant journey and a happy landing with no big surprises!)
