Dear Mom,

After taking an entire week off from writing, I’m finding it challenging to start again. I’m not sure why. It could be my exhaustion following a week of epic adventuring in the rainforest. Or perhaps it’s the three-hour urgent care visit on Monday with my two feral children followed by one kid home from school on Tuesday and the other on Wednesday. Or maybe it’s that I took too long off and now I’ve forgotten how to write. Most likely, it’s that my brain is so full from my trip that I don’t even know where to begin. How to begin. How do I sum up the best trip of my life in a single letter to you? I’m not sure it’s even possible.

Mom, I went on the trip of your dreams last week. Deep into the rainforest in Costa Rica. Along with fourteen other families from school. Twenty-seven kids in total. Three excursions, two on site tours, and swimming pool shenanigans lasting close to 12 hours a day. The best food I’ve ever eaten. Salsa dancing lessons that would make you so proud. We came home with memories of a lifetime as well as a whole lot of bruises, scratches, mosquito bites, and ear infections that were totally worth it.

I overreacted as a parent. I underreacted as a parent. I worried too much about what my kids ate and worried too little about where they were at all times. I said yes more than usual but also failed at picking my battles. I regret not saying yes to that third soda can on the catamaran. Could’ve avoided the horribly dramatic and very public meltdown. I regret not saying yes to more smoothies. I regret being too scared to go ziplining. I regret alerting the staff about the trail of ants close to our room.

Beyond all of that, I have no other regrets. I learned new things about the world and about myself. I showed myself how capable I am of going with the flow. Of waking up with the creatures of the rainforest. Of staying up past my bedtime and not feeling guilty about it. I strengthened friendships. I connected with new adults and with nature. I adapted.

The hardest part of going on trips like this one, similar to the trip I took to Vietnam as a teenager, is coming home. I didn’t want the adventure to end. I didn’t want to come back to life. To monotony. To security. To routine. I wish I could stay in the rainforest forever. I wish I could treat life as an adventure. I wish I could live my life more fully. To jump blindly into a lake instead of staying dry on the boat. To go ziplining instead of opting for the safer excursion.

I wonder, can I live my life as if I were still hiking through the rainforest? Can I treat my safe city life as an adventure? Can I continue to surprise myself?

Long ago, I looked at life as an adventure. I had a ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ or ‘you only live once’ outlook on life. I enjoyed diving headfirst into each experience. I was younger back then. Didn’t have kids yet. Didn’t have real responsibilities. Am I more cautious now because I have a family? Am I more careful because I’m thinking about the future instead of living in the moment?

Or is it because I’m sober now? Is it a coincidence that I lived life so fully while also drinking like a fish? I used to say yes to everything while inebriated. Am I only capable of living life to the fullest while under the influence?

I must admit I worried going into this vacation that I’d ruin the fun by being the one sober parent. I worried that people would look at me as strange or as a buzzkill. I wasn’t sure if I could face the adventure while sober. Well, this last week proved to me that I can.

While on vacation, I managed to have a great time even without alcohol to help loosen me up. I stayed up late partying each night with the other parents. I said yes to things I would normally worry about. I didn’t worry about the pending bill, or the lunch of Oreos and Tostitos on that last day. I didn’t let the break from writing, or the zero pages read get under my skin. I allowed myself to fully experience the vacation. To fully live. And I did it while sober. It made me realize that I am capable of living my life as an adventure. Even without a drink in my hand.

Having this knowledge has opened a new doorway for me. It’s as if a new level of life has been unlocked. The level where I am fully alive. And I know I can’t avoid the restrictions my bank account brings. I can’t avoid the need to work. I can’t avoid the education my kids still need. But I can find the small moments in between to seek adventure. I can explore the world and seek out new thrilling experiences. I can try new foods and say yes to extreme sports that scare me. I can allow myself to depart from my comfort zone in an effort to live life more fully.

All I have to do is say yes. There is nothing holding me back. Not even my sobriety. And I’ve got to say, I am more than ready for my next adventure. Even if I’m totally exhausted.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel