Resting Along the Way: Sickness, Expectations, and Roadblocks

Mar 14, 2025

No one posts a story of themselves lying in bed at a nice hotel, shivering with fever. Or of how their family keeps traveling while they’re stuck in a room. So I’m writing about it. Because this is a huge part of my journey—the moments when my body simply says, Enough.

And also—let’s be honest—the moments when the people I love start suggesting what I should write about, as if they’re the editors-in-chief of my life.

📍 January 26, 2023 | Bangkok, Thailand

The Weight of Expectations

On the Struggle of Expecting Nothing from Anyone

I didn’t write yesterday. I couldn’t. My fever spiked, and all I did was toss and turn in bed, sweating. My family went on with their plans—because they were healthy, because they were in Thailand—and I felt lonelier than ever.

Someone once told me they don’t expect anything from people, so they never get disappointed. At the time, that sounded bleak and depressing to me, and I tried to convince them that expectations bring joy and excitement. But I couldn’t even articulate what I was really trying to say. And suddenly, in one moment, I realized—I had no case. They were probably right.

That was years ago, and I still remember that conversation. I understand what they meant. And yet—I still can’t help but expect things from people. I wish I could.

I’m in bed, haven’t eaten anything except more and more medicine, and I keep wondering if something is seriously wrong with my body—if it’s shutting down every two weeks. My family suggested it’s because I travel so much, spending time in crowded places, exposed to endless bacteria, constantly shifting between climates—my body struggling to keep up.

Tomorrow morning, I fly to Singapore, where I’ll spend a full day before taking a night flight to Australia. I crossed my fingers that I’d make it, that they’d let me board despite the little lie I told on my health declaration.

In the morning, I woke up feeling slightly better. The fever was gone. I got on the plane.

Goodbye, Thailand. Goodbye, family. I have no idea when I’ll see them again.

Everyone keeps asking if I’m scared about Australia. The answer is no. I even think I should be more excited—or at least feel something. But right now, the only thing I can think about is that I need to rest. I just want to feel okay.

What’s the point of this whole journey, all this courage, all this chasing of dreams—if I can’t even feel excited? If I can’t enjoy it because I don’t feel well?

📍 January 29, 2023 | Melbourne, Australia

"You Should Write About This in Your Post"

When My Family Decides to Be the Editors-in-Chief of My Life

I haven’t really started yet. Most of my time is spent sleeping, drinking tea, and blowing my nose. Yesterday, I barely made it to the supermarket for a few groceries before feeling even worse.

The nights are rough—whether it’s the cold, the cough, or the jet lag—some kind of cocktail designed to keep me stuck inside. I thought I’d feel better today, finally go out and explore the city I was so excited to see. But the truth is, I’ve been here for three days and haven’t even crossed the street.

Until I have something new to share, here’s something I wrote back in Thailand:

I wondered if spending three weeks with my family would be too intense, especially after being on my own for four months. Turns out, sometimes it was. I needed my space, and so did they. We mostly split up in the evenings (after all, they’re couples), taking a breather from all the togetherness.

At first, it felt a little strange—after all, we traveled all this way to be together. And I kept thinking, I don’t really know when we’ll all be in the same place again.

But we’re all adults, and sometimes, we can be a bit too much. Especially me. So yes, we all needed to breathe in order to make it work. And honestly, everyone put in the effort.

There were moments during the trip when my family would "suggest" things for me to write about—like when we had an amazing cake or visited a beautiful place. It felt like the newspaper owner stepping in to tell the writers what to publish. (Their words, not mine! Wait… so they actually succeeded?)

I explained that my perspective is my own. Maybe they want me to write about something, but to me, it’s just not worth writing about. Or sometimes, something slightly interesting happens, and someone immediately blurts out: "There! You should write about this in your post!"

It cracks me up.

Or how, at breakfast, they’ll casually say, "Nice post yesterday." It feels like a fan meetup—except it’s my own family.

They’re probably not used to this side of me. And I’m not used to exposing it like this. It’s much easier behind a keyboard. Suddenly, when people talk to me about my posts, it feels a little awkward. A little weird.

When I got sick in Bangkok, I was sure it would ruin my entire experience in Australia. How could I start a new journey if I couldn’t even get out of bed? I arrived in Melbourne and, for three days, I couldn’t even cross the street.

But something about those days of forced rest taught me to slow down. To understand that not everything depends on my expectations, and that even in moments of weakness, there’s something to learn.

Now I know—every journey has its own rhythm. And this time, letting my body decide is just as important as the moments when I’m jumping off a cliff.

Resting Along the Way: Sickness, Expectations, and Roadblocks

The Weight of Expectations

On the Struggle of Expecting Nothing from Anyone

"You Should Write About This in Your Post"

When My Family Decides to Be the Editors-in-Chief of My Life

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